You can listen with hope,
  or listen in pain

But listen you shall,
  as my words will explain

“You were left in a tree trunk,
  neither hollow nor full

With a decision impending,
  a test of your will

Your words will define,
  what you praise or deny

Will they now come together,
  in the truth or a lie
  
Do you burrow on blindly,
  or tunnel beyond

What your comfort will dictate,
  what the blackness desponds

One choice lands in darkness,
  one reaches for light

My tracks through the shadows,
  your fear cannot light

It’s down to that moment,
  one last choice that defines

Will your soul choose redemption,
—or stay hidden unrhymed”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)

Children cry and sometimes get lost.
Bumps, bruises, scars, and sickness.
If your lucky parents are there to kiss you.
Dreams and Innocence.
Disney Princess.
Dolls.
No worry in the world.
Playing Barbie’s on the porch.
Riding bikes in the street.
Life is good.
Then you get older and things get hard, sometimes if your lucky things are still ok.
That wasn’t the case for me.

Never in my life
Have I've heard
Anything good
Escape your mouth
In regards to me

I am a **** stained smear  
At the bottom of your loafers
Bird **** droppings atop
Your prized buntal brim

Your eyes for me
Holds no sparkle
Or joy or love
For that matter

Only contempt
At the thought
That I am your seed

You spit phlegm
In spite
Of my existence
A regurgitated reminder
Of you

There are no complexities
In truth of procreation

I am the
Mirrored continuance
Of your self-hate
At war with myself

In a battle
Where no one
The victor

Covered in
**** stained shame
A biblical ***
Resign
To live life
Shunned

At the bottom
Of your
Shiny
Brand
New
Shoes