Existence.
It's such a weird thing to have.
We don't ask for it,
We don't all want it,
And yet we have it.
Some are given the "gift" of existence because they were created to be loved.
We are given life through the intimacy of others.
We didn't ask to be here.
Put on this earth to suffer until we finally give up or give in.
We give up this beautiful life that we are given by neglecting all of the beautiful things we are capable of.
We give in to being dull and gray.
Each day we go to the same place, do the same thing, and see the same sights.
This makes us weak and emotionless.
Broken beings that have lost that beauty of existence.
We give in to the destroying and demeaning words from strangers.
We let them destroy this beauty inside of us,
We let them **** our hope.
But why?

"You killed a man"
They say over and over
In his head
"You killed a man."
They repeat to him
Until he knows they can not be wrong.

He walks the streets
wondering if the eyes that glance him over
while they walk on by
know that on average
a person walks past a murderer
36 times
in their life.
"You killed a man"
He expects one of them to scream.

She is different
He knows this from they day they first meet
The voices go quiet
Almost allowing him to sleep.

He takes her on dates,
tells her
his hopes and dreams
though it is not until the night
they decide to combine their resources
in a cramped damp apartment
with a view of the sunset against the skyline
that he decides to tell her
the words that once were on
replay
inside his mind.

"I killed a man."
He whispers to her.
His voice bright
In direct contrast to the darkness
of the night.
As his hands tap the covers
Twice then once then twice again.

Her eyes caress him,
touching him in ways he knows can not be done
with hands
as he repeats
"I killed a man."
His eyes fixed on the ceiling,
Counting the tiles
To be sure
that 101
has not changed to 102
and the stain in the 81'st hasn't shifted to 22'nd.

He jumps at the feeling of her touch

Voice sharp
Hands soft.
"Tell me."
The demand
so quiet
he wonders if it was just the sound
of settling dust.

He turns to her,
Finds the question in her eyes.
It's a drastic change
from the haunted look he expected
if only to reflect
what he sees in the mirror every day.

"I killed a man." He says once again,
For the millionth time in his life
though only
the third
outside of his head.

Her fingers trace his face.
Thumb running across his lips.
She opens her mouth,
and quietly whispers the words he never dared to
even consider
"The man you killed,
was yourself."

I anxiously await tomorrow
Not because of any big thing
But one thing that makes my day
You
I see you in the morning
A few minutes
15 or 20
It's not long
But to even be in your presence
I am able to make it through the day
Because I see you at the end too.
You are my motivation
My bonus for completing the level
And you make it meaningful to go somewhere
I really wouldn't like to go.
I don't wake up early for school
I wake up early for you
Though I wish it was next to you.

I love you my child
I don't know how to help you anymore
You continue to die your slow death
It's painful for us both
To watch you killing yourself with no way to stop
To see you so all alone
Living your life from hell
Watching you living with demons
I curse the devil and his minions
To watch you convice yourself to give up and die
It kills me inside
I love you child
I've always loved you and always will
I don't think you're long for this earth
The slow mental and physical deterioration
has accelerated
The doctors give you one short year
I cry for the hurt in your heart
I cry for the torture in your soul
I cry for the pain in your unhealthy body
I cry because you think I don't love you
Don't give up and die my little one
I physically ache for loving and losing you
Living a life I would never have chosen for you
I love you my child
Please see a glimpse of the light in my soul
Let it guide you to peace
Non reversible is your disease
I'm tormented with the fear of losing you
I can't watch anymore
I can't see you do this to yourself
Don't die my sweet little girl
Don't leave me behind
My love for you is insurmountable
Your love for yourself is long gone
Let's love eachother for the time you have left
I love you more than theses mere words express
I love you more than my own life
Don't cry little one for I am here

Trial of homelessness strikes close to my heart
It's s difficult to put down in part
My poor baby daughter a ghost on the street
For a bottle, a meal, she'd ***** men she'd meet

This is such a sad and dangerous way
To live a desperate life everyday
The hardest part was watching her die
Not the life I'd have chosen, wonder why?

She was a very hostile and hurtful drunk
True tough love on my part, how low I had sunk
Muscular Dystrophy was part of her plight
She saw only darkness, was too tired to fight

She seized even while downing her *****
Early scerosis, extended abuse
I cried for her at night, worried all day
She called from jail, detox and a hospital stay

I once had to search for her as Jane Doe
In a panic I found her, back out shed go
I felt so mad, sad and **** confused
My sarah was out there, with who I mused

Homeless are people with heart and soul
Whether they choose or not to live this role
I know from experience that this is true
Sarah is loving, giving.....caring too

She had cried to me that I loved her no more
I wrote her a poem to convince and implore
Her to live and I loved her, I swore

I read her that poem in her hospital bed
We both cried, she'd get help,she actually said
She's now a month sober, attending AA
Happily sarah has a safe place to stay
I pray to the Lord that she finds her way

Those who love will never find it.
Those who love will write odes to crisp fall mornings
And hear symphonies crunched out of the yellow leaves beneath their feet.
Those who love will smile, even though they know
it will give them away
They will offer themselves up as if they had never given the mirror a second glance,
Let themselves be beaten like drums,
And a drum is just a bucket of silence
until you beat something out of it,
Beat something out of it.


Those who love will find poetry in the steam of their coffee
And beauty in even the worst of times;
Leave names like kristallnacht in our history books because they know that broken glass looks like stars,
And when a person truly loves there is nothing, nothing that can stop them from hoping.
People are like buckets of silence
Until you make something out of them,
Make something beautiful.


People who love know that tears
are the same as rain, and they are ready for monsoons
Because loving is lonely,
and for every drop out of shining eye
there are hundreds more waiting in the sky
and the people who love will dance in the downpour,
Collect every drop they can hold where the silence once was because drums can hold tears too,
and they will still be silent until you splash
and make something out of it,
make something beautiful.