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 Dec 2013 Matthew Walker
Sir B
"What weapons may I use?"
He asked,
"Anyone and anything you like,
knives are in the front,
guns in the back"
He replied.

"Knives.."
"They are the sharpest,
can cut through steel."
"...knives..."
"Sir, I believe something is wrong.
Please..., be quick"
".......knives"

He said and then fainted
Shopkeeper put him on a bed
and found scars on the boy's arm
long scars,
going from shoulder to wrist..
..they were on both hands
and the part between the wrist and elbow
were scarred so bad,
you were scared to touch the skin
then.. it hit him
The boy wanted to run away
from this world
and he didn't know where to stop and lay his head down
and he had chosen the shop
to symbolize that it had given him
relief in times of stress and horrible emotions
he wanted to be back from where he started
thus, he had laid, fallen, while talking
and there was nothing that could be done
-Speechless-
Tuesdays are my
good days
safe days
happy days

they are the most routine,
the most reliable,
the steadiest

when I wake up and know that
I will go to school
and will have my lightest workload
of the week
and therefore the least stress

and then after school
I will go to piano lessons
run some errands
then go to the library
to pick up a few books to read that week
and later, go to youth group

but both this week and last,
as I stepped into my favorite part of routine,
I was met by your cold black eyes
looking at me from between the bookshelves
and the awful sensation that lingers afterward for so many hours

I'm beginning to think Tuesdays aren't so safe anymore.
*tuesdays are the days I am least likely to have panic attacks for some reason so I think of them as safe days
here's the thing:
I know I am needy and jealous,
and my skin is only pretty in the summer,
and my hair frizzes more often than not,
and my nose is too big for conventional beauty

I know that I talk funny a lot,
and my body is disproportionate
(just like my music taste),
and I never really know what I'm talking about,
and my hands are always cold and clammy

I know that I apologize too much (sorry),
and that I usually make a big deal out of nothing,
and that I usually look angry,
even when I'm happy

I know that my exuberance is hard to handle,
and that I am easy to disappoint
and easy to be disappointed in,
and that I lose motivation too quickly,
and that my smile is too often late and clumsy

I know all these things aren't so great,
(and I know of many more),
but I know that
I am caring and loyal
and my skin gets tan
and warm and filled with sunlight
and my eyelashes are long and full
and when I smile for real,
it is sincere and warm and genuine

I know that I hold myself to higher standards,
and that I get very passionate about little things,
and that I read a lot more than most

I know that I am compassionate and considerate,
and find happiness in the smallest details

And I know that I am hardworking
(when I need to be),
but I also know how to relax,
and I can handle my own burdens
(as well as some of yours)

so between the pros and cons,
I hope someone will someday
find it in their heart
to fall in love with me
as I have done with you
winter is the loneliest season

because with every day
the fog of my breath becomes clearer
-a reminder that i have no one to share it with-

and every day
my hands grow colder
-a reminder that i have no one to hold them-

and every day
becomes more beautiful
-a reminder that i have no one to appreciate it with.
 Dec 2013 Matthew Walker
Emily
I was sitting on a train and it was pitch black except for the occasional light we passed embedded in the tunnel. I don't know why we were in the tunnel. I don't know why I was in a train.
   I was with a man who was older, maybe early 60's, slightly frail looking with a beard and a bowler hat and cane that bled elegance. Although he was frail you could tell he used to be strong.
   A younger man stood to his left, a man that was the image of the older one in his youth. His son I guessed. Same hat, similar clothes, clean shaven and thin, but looking at him there was no doubt he was strong.
   Two children sat on either side of me, very small children. With the same blue eyes, the same golden curls, the same innocent faces. They were twins. A boy and a girl. They weren't completely identical, you could look into their eyes and see the differences inside, but their appearances were an exact match.
   Another woman was with us all, but I don't know exactly what she looked like. I don't know how I saw anyone else for that matter, the train was pitch black. But her name was Anna, and she must have been beautiful, because her voice sounded like music. When she spoke you wanted to smile, I wish I had seen her face.
  
   The train was moving fast. So fast you couldn't feel it. It moved like a ghost. Through that tunnel in the dark, we were just flying.
  
   I couldn't see very well, but sometimes I could see little lights in my eyes of names and things. Flashing in front of my eyes, sometimes. The people around me are tense. As if something's just happened that no one will explain to me.
   The woman walks to the back, calls the children to her with her angels voice and they run to her, giggling maniacally. I get a bad feeling but brush it off as I watch them run off in the dark...
   The two men start to argue in whispered tones. About something serious. I can't understand them but it makes me uneasy. I hear them both scuffling in the corner. But at this point I can't see a thing. I hear a bit of a struggle, and one of them starts to quietly sob. Just a bit of a whimper at first. But it starts to grow as he cries "You promised! You promised!!" I identify the voice as the younger man, and something inside me says that his fathers hands are closed around his sons neck and slowly tightening. But the boy simply continues to cry.
   The woman, Anna, stood at the back of the train in her torn dress and veil with dried blood still on her hands. How I knew this I'll never know, there hadn't been lights in the tunnel for miles. So in the midst of the father murdering his son, Anna began to sing. She sang a song in a language no one has ever heard before. She sang keys no one has ever sang, and she was at peace.
   The children were sitting on the ground, an equal distance away from Anna and the men. They were slouched against each other as they passed a bottle of pills and a bottle of some liquid to each other. I don't know what was in the bottle, or what kind of pills they had, but I could see the life draining from them. They knew they were killing themselves too, and they laughed about it.
   The twins were close to dead and Anna continued to sing. The father continued to tighten his grip around his sons throat, and you could hear the life leaving him. His cries became softer and softer. "You promised! You promised. You promised.." Until his last cry, followed by a mumbled apology, when his father sank to the floor, held his lifeless sons body in his arms, and wept.
   The twins have now stopped drinking and started crying, they cry to me. They scratch at my legs, pull at my clothes. "Help us.. Please... It hurts so much.. Please!!"
   I look up and see Anna with her arms raised to the sky her palms up and smiling as she sings louder and with all of her spirit in it. When I realize I see her.
   I turn back around to look out the front of the train to see another train like ours but headed right for us.
   I almost feel my back break as the trains collide head on and I jolt up in my bed.
This isn't exactly a poem more of a nightmare I had last night.
 Dec 2013 Matthew Walker
Megan A
It struck a chord in me to say the least.
Your voice filled with the hurt and pain
that I experience most nights alone in my bed.
Your eyes allowing me to peak into your window
and see underneath the layers of self-confidence
where I’d find the same marks of doubt.
I should have known we were one in the same
the day you told me I was pretty
because you saw the sadness in my arms.
But instead, I dug deeper into myself
searching for love that would never arrive
and in people who wouldn’t think twice
of sailing me out to sea.
I needed someone like you who understood
how my scalding showers shed the skin
I could no longer bear to be in
and how no matter how loud I sang
the suicidal thoughts wouldn’t go away.
I never realized I needed you,
but ******* did you need me.
You viewed me as your sunshine
when I only saw myself as shade.
I’m sorry that my words are coming to you so late.
How could I have been so blind
when you could see right through me?

“How would you feel if I killed myself?”
Well,
do you ever think that butterflies
floating from flower to flower
wonder “what’s my purpose?”
Because I never thought something so beautiful
could question its existence.
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