To be what they want
Is to win a battle
To be who you are
Is to win a war

Some people only open the door
to slam it harder.

Yesterday

a momma dreamt
of rocking her little girl
while she read sweet stories
of a fairy tale world

a father dreamt of smiling
while he shook his sons hand
the day that little boy
became an honorable man

a big brother dreamt
of the day that his mother
would finally bring home
his new baby brother

Today
a momma's rocking
her precious little girl
afraid come tomorrow
she'll no longer be in this world

a father is crying
while he holds his own hand
for his perfect little boy
will never grow into a man.

our children are dying,
at least seven a day
their siblings are lying
saying they'll be okay.

tubes like little serpents
cover their beds
they’ve little to no hair
on their sweet little heads

September is here
now our voices will be heard
our words will reach
every inch of this earth.

-ARI

I can smell him on my sheets
      I can taste him in my dreams
             I can still feel every inch where he's touched me
I hear his laughter echoing in the walls
             I can still see him in all these pictures I saved for
           memories

But this bed is bare
My dream's a nightmare
       I can't hear
             His laughter
       He's not near
             Enough to touch
My eyes are blinded by tears
He's killed my senses,  
      I'm no longer aware

Everything around me,  slowly fading away
His face, his scent, his laughter,  his touch
Maybe I'll just pop a few pills and sleep away the day
At least he's in my nightmares, the pain of reality is too much

In the blank pages
Where my feelings flow freely
Once suppressed within my heart
The ink overflows with emotions
Across the white canvas
Where the nomadic mind gets respite
From constant supervision of the world
The blank pages offer a tranquil retreat
Healing the soul of all travails

The lies were silent
And the unassuming heart unaware
Accepting them as truth
That did not believe the truth anymore

How many faces you wish?
For you are not true to your own
Can you bear the burden of many?
Posing as everyone, but you
Even the mirror will be flummoxed
Ashamed to show the real you
Maybe a face forgotten long ago
Waging a war against yourself
An army of many faces adopted
Will bring you to the gallows
That will be the end to your identity
When you will be unmasked