so i will take your hand
and you will take mine
and we will stand.
sometimes still and sometimes grieving,
sometimes silent, sometimes numb -
there is a time to mourn and a time to heal.
We will recover kindness from the debris
not to **** with,
but to bring life.
gather the things we've lost and rebuild
again
and again
and again.
yes, we will all die one day
but on all the other days, we will not.

i hate her.
i hate the way she talks,
the way it's always the wrong thing,
the way her voice is always uneven.
i hate the way she slouches;
is it apathy she feels, or the weight of the world?
she can never seem to decide.
i hate that she isn't smarter,
that she isn't calmer,
that she isn't motivated,
that she isn't kind.
i hate that she trusts too much or too little.
i hate that she makes everything a big deal.
i hate her fickleness.
i hate her anger that she has no right to feel,
and the sadness she doesn't understand,
and her stupid ticks
and stupid fights
and stupid feelings.
i hate that she likes feeling sad
just to feel anything at all.
i hate her cliche words.
i hate her clumsiness.
i hate that she loves attention.
i hate that she tries to drag everyone into her problems,
ignoring the way they're hurting,
in some sort of warped cry for help.
i hate that she likes the way fire feels against her skin,
but most of all,
i hate that she can still face herself in the mirror day after day.

We are nothing but an empty shell,
Filling our voids with warm things to feel alive,
A composition of ravished corpses of once
Living beings that will warm our dead inside.

We are nothing but animals,
Playing human every day, faking empathy and emotion,
Playing God every day, ravaging and killing our host,
Beautiful lands left with nothing but corruption.

We are nothing but greed,
A broken people cutting their skin with green paper,
Pretending this is what true happiness means,
Killing each other for the bliss of coins.

Desperately fighting my rotten ego,
I pour blood into this empty vessel, the cage of my soul,
The core of a virus pretending to live righteously,
Yet I know that this version of me is indifferent.
A parasite.

my candle ignites
and the wax begins to wane
i, too, start to melt

For days flooded with sun and days shining with rain
For suffocating joy and blinding pain
For hallways left empty, for rooms full of laughter
For dark raging storms and the light that comes after
For the pounding music that leaves pounding aches
For frustration and accidents and every mistake
For walls that tell stories and the stories not told
For jokes between friends that never grow old
For bright blues of the day and dark blacks of the night
For little things, big things, and in-between things alike
For those brought together and those torn apart
For stars in our eyes and love in our hearts.