Aging face with boyish charm,
broad shoulders to care-free arms,
manly nave to dancers hip,
soldier's legs to a child's skip.

heavy heart through lightened words,
booming voice to deafen hurt,
eyes to sparkle wit with play,
soul set stone in subtle sway.

A seer of all to be seen,
a prodigy for stage and screen,
A star in his very own trend,
A Coatman, a true best friend.

I miss the butterflies and the trouble they would cause,
they would fly too far from me and I could never catch them all,
They would stay with the ones they flew for and wait for me to find them,
I'd keep my sights on their flights and my thoughts on their companions.

I miss the words that I would write when a fire stirred within,
be it ignited from pain or love; the beauty created was the same,
Raw, honest and true, I would pour my heart out into song,
I'd hide inside my singing until the feelings sung were lived or gone.

I miss the fleeting moments of looks and mere touches,
No words were spoken yet volumes were written on our faces.
The world fell with insignificance and the focus fell on us,
the passion lingered beneath the surface but our warm hands were enough.

I'm sure the butterflies will re-learn to dance and play,
I know I'll write the words again for my lost friends love and pain,
but the moments, touches and passion are gone forever more,
After everything I've been through, I miss you most of all.

I am a tress-passer on the land belonging to the noble.
I am a sheep in wolves clothing.
I am nothing more than a ******* child of ignorance and closed windows.
I am backwards.
I am loud.
I am wrong.
I am **Kayleigh.

In this world, they seem to adore you,
Their eyes are bug eyed and blessed.
Regardless of what I've felt from you,
It means nothing to the rest.

You deserve a universe full of hate,
my blood boils with joy from the thought.
Because the love that I gave had all gone to waste,
I gave you my heart and for what?

This town is stained with our history,
each street is another open scar.
each restaurant is like salt on my memories
another stab in the back from afar.

It seems like I can't turn anymore
without a haunting reminder to see,
I can't run away, I can't close the doors
it feels like you're everywhere to me.

Defeatist dread
sits in the pit of my stomach.
I'm weighed down,
like a brick tied to my hope
dragging me to drown.

I feel so choked
every expression is strained
strangled in my throat.
If I could sing or could scream
I would let you know.

Is it apathy,
that grounds me to despair
or the horrid prospect
that deep down
I already knew the end.

I can keep adrift,
breathe through make-shift
gills.
but I can't tread water.
webbed-less
not weightless.

the words are uninspired
but people blindly follow
I watch but don't comprehend
it appears that I wallow

in bitter, tired, seething rage
instead of embracing
that's what they've all said at least.
that I'm just unforgiving.

but when I was ten years old
I stare out the window all night
with your words in my ears
the only thing that was really mine

and I worshiped, I obsessed
became a perfect, loyal subject.
my personality grew around
the ideals you'd project

but that wasn't enough
for my lofty deity
you threw away all of the light
you'd dared to shine on me

and fused it to empty gestures,
fake sentiments and pretension
I could never come to grips
with that final deception.

so you may now rear your head,
and say that you've returned
"the second coming of our messiah!"
as far as they're concerned

but I can never trust you
my oh so self aware God
you've shown your true colours
and the light you shined has gone.

The barrel rested
between his eyes,
against his nose.

his eyes were closed.
he never dared to breathe.
he just listened.

with every shot,
earth shattering boom,
he winced.

the bodies of brothers
friends and strangers
surrounded him in bits.

and in one weak moment
of prayer,
of desperation,
he wanted his mother.

and the last thing he heard
was the shot meant for him.