How dare you make fun of my dead friend?
How dare you?
How dare you use his death as an excuse to say that you're happier than me?
How dare you?
Death isn't funny, and it's not something to use
Against someone.
How dare you?
It's not something to mess around with to gain sympathy,
Or to make yourself feel better simply because
You don't like someone.  
How. Dare. You.
The rage I'm feeling at the Universe we live in,
Is not directed at anything.
Except for the unfairness of life and how life
Takes the things we love most.
How dare you use that against me?
*H O W  D A R E  Y O U

"The next thing I was aware of was falling.
Around me, all that was familiar crumbled into dust.
And still I fell, tumbling on an endless journey to nowhere.
Then all was motionless and I was imprisoned in a void.
I had dropped to my knees, my head bowed, my wings broken and bleeding.
I couldn’t lift myself off the ground.
The light began to fade until a suffocating darkness surrounded me, so dense that when I held my hands before my face, I couldn’t make them out.
In this sepulchral world I was left alone.
I saw myself as the ultimate figure of shame, an angle fallen from grace.

A shadowy figure with blurred features was approaching.
At first my heart leapt with hope at the possibility that it might be someone come to rescue me.
But any hope was dashed away when I sensed instinctively that whatever it was should be feared.
Despite the pain in my limbs I crawled as far from it as possible.
I tried spreading my wings but they were too damaged to comply.
The figure was closer now and hovering above me.
Its features materialized just enough for me to see that the smile on its face was one of ownership.
There was nothing left to do but allow myself to be consumed by the shadows.
This was perdition. I was lost."

I see you
I see that tear burning in the back of your eyes
When you say its okay I do not care
I see the sadness that you carry
When you act strong
I hear the pain in your voice
When you speak to me and say your fine
I see the lonliness at night when you
Hold your pillow so tight
wishing your holding someone tonight

Music flows from the instruments in hand,
From the students marching in the band.
Flutes, as gently as the breeze,
With their sound so sharp, like a high pitched sneeze.
Long black and elegant are the elements of a clarinet.
The sounds so smooth, makes you want to move.
Buzz, buzz, buzz, the saxophone does.
A reed in the woodwinds will bend.
It can break or chip, even cut your lip.
Shiny and loud, who drowns out the rest,
Trumpets are certainly not the best.
Deep, low noises the tuba cries;
It’s large and heavy, which makes it hard to carry.
French horn, trombone, euphonium.
Brass instruments overpopulate the crowd.
Their heads are always up in a cloud.
Drums beat in rhythm with cymbals who clash overhead.
Snares issue to start or halt the marchers, tempo sets their speed.
Thump, thump, thump, we’re done for the day.
Soon we’ll be off to another parade.