In the dark of the night
and in the silence of my room
torn between sleep and reality
I often scream at you.
******* its all your fault,
I don't miss you anymore
My brain plays out your part as well
A fight that can't be ignored.
You aren't a special person
I hate that I wasted time on you
Things I'll never say out loud,
Though that doesn't make them untrue.

I don't go out of the house much anymore
If I do it's for work or food
or a walk with the dog
maybe through the woods
Just not for people
I've grown tired
of looking into their eyes
of seeing how they look at you
sizing you up
deciding what little box
to stuff you into
before moving on by
The eyes can tell you
in the space of a second or two
if a person's heart's in the right place
if they want something good for the world
or just for themselves
So I don't go out much anymore
I've learned that most others
just can't see past their own worlds

This roof over our heads can't make us a family.

"you like him."
she said it like it was a statement, not a question.
"uh...not really?"
I tried to be nonchalant, convincing.
"you do. I can see it in your eyes.
when you feel like no one's looking,     you look at him
and absorb all his features, and the smallest of smiles appears on your face.
and when he is looking-at you in specific-
your whole face glows. it's like he's the sun,
and you temporarily share all his warmth and light.
it's beautiful."

Mother,
Tell me why people
Hurt each other
Why father tears you apart
Yet you smile in pain

Mother,
Remember the time
When a homeless man
Was a filth
In a woman's eyes?
A curse even in his helplessness?

Mother,
Why do the kids in school
Despise a color?
Is black all that bad?
I happen to like that boy,
why can't they?

Mother,
Why did cousin die
Just because
She wore the wrong clothes
Acted funny
When she was having fun by herself?

Mother,
Why do people hurt each other?
Make me understand
Please,please
My chest feels weird
When I see tears and black and blue
And scars, too
I hate seeing people sad
Don't you hate it too?

Sometimes life stands still,
Like the moment before a breath.
Inhale, exhale, repeat.
Potential behind each beat.

The reflection of the rain at night
Mirrors our tiny lives.
Blurred and seemingly unending,
But washed away by morning light.

I am joyful, when I realize,

though I often do forget,

that nothing really matters,

you just have to make the most of it.