my cousin loved to read and write
she said she liked fantasy better
she never understand the hate and fight
and i couldn’t explain through a letter

my sister said my cousin sang and sang and still could not be heard
and my mother said that in this way, she was a mockingbird

once i read a book that said
it's a sin to **** her kind
i told my father this one day
but he did not reply

she does not a thing but think beautiful thoughts
and fill others with wonder
and yet once she told me that if people were water
she would have already been pulled under

so how can i blame my cousin
when she tells me she hates these lives
because at least she knows there is no chance
of the miracle they claim arrives




*last night my cousin called me
i think she tried to say goodbye
but i could not hear myself respond
my mother heard me cry

i wish i could have stopped her
and i wish she’d had a chance
but instead she was a pretty mind
that no one gave a glance

a shadow of a person
a glimpse of sun behind the clouds
she was always half a person
she hides even now behind her shrouds

my cousin loved to read and write
and my mother always said
your cousin was a mockingbird
nobody listened and now she’s dead.

im drunk im sure
because i cant remember whose picture i burned
earlier this morning when it was still dark out
and i really dont want to

because if i start to remember
i might break my promise
that i made someone

the one i can't remember
and i might start to break myself  

and if i break
i might finally wake up after all these years
but i think that i'd really rather stay
drunk on my own tears

She left with beauty and pride
and with tragic goodbyes
that lingered a moment
before the wind carried them away
and for days she went,
without hesitation, and without mistake
and not a single seed of doubt
was planted in her peoples minds

and perhaps
it was this feeling of infallibility,
that caused her defeat,
for her peoples faith had been her destruction
and as the realization
of how wrong they had been
began to sink in
the music played on

and while the haunting cries for mercy were heard
and the whispers of childrens stories
were told calmly in the midst of chaos
the music played on
until the last ragged breath
of thousands
was let out in a broken shudder
the music played on,

and on, until it was only an echo.

i can hear them at night
and i can see them in the morning
when the sun struggles to the sky
and it’s rays flicker and dip lower than i’ve ever seen them

everything is so tired

they’re crying and they’re hungry and cold and
lost they are so lost
and they’re everywhere
burning out

there is so much regret

and i think i am the last person
who still remembers how it felt
to love the smell of the ocean
and the feel of a book coming to life in your hands

this is so wrong

right now, this moment, is the only real thing anymore i think
but i wish it wasn’t
because these people are living off their last  hope for humanity

and humanity is taking its last breath

and this cannot be real
and this pain this pain this pain cannot exist
but it is
and it does

i think.

I am a raindrop
falling falling falling
too high to believe there is an end to this journey
but too soon the ground comes into view
and i am drowning
drowning in myself
in the water i was created with
i cannot swim
and i am breaking as i fall
breaking before i even touch the surface of the earth

i shatter

and the last thought i can recall
is the disbelief that i am hated
that i am unwanted
that i am cast away with the wind
by everyone who meets me
this small broken piece of nature
that i am

and i am hated
even though i have just fallen to pieces

i have just shattered like glass

and i am still thrown away from the shelter
i so desperately need

because i am a storm,
too fragile,
always too fragile

and i have fallen.

I’m sorry

that the chills live on the bones in your spine
and that they invade the soft skin that rests upon your neck


I am sorry

that the frost finds you at night
and whispers lies in your ear, and i’m sorry you believe them

I am so sorry.

you are not damaged
and you will always matter

but you do not know that
not after they not after i told you differently

....................................................­..................

and i hate that the snow stays frozen in your pockets
the same snow that has been there for years

you are so cold, so cold
i don’t feel your stares anymore

i don’t think you feel at all

i guess you’ve been this way a while now
i can see your breath when you speak

but you don’t speak very often
not anymore

i think your heart might be stopping
i think it might’ve stopped

encased in a jail made of icicles
that i planted there

i am so sorry
i am so sorry

look at what you’ve become
a hollow body with a crippled heart

and a love so painfully numb.