White walls always closing in,
too bright lights make it impossible to see hope,
prayers hang suspended in the air,
never coming, never going,
the walls have taken them prisoner as well,
each second is more painful than the last,
wondering if this could be the last time,
I see the glimmer in your eyes,
and constantly fearing the moment
when I will learn to tell the difference
between slumber and death,
guilt is always present,
loitering in the corners of the too bright walls,
faults that cannot be proven,
but they are given all the same,
children walk with tired feet,
and at times it is almost easy to see their hearts slowing down,
along with their will to fight,
these too bright walls are a sad imitation
of the energy and cleanliness they supposedly represent,
because this place, is filled with the weakest people I have ever seen,
and every day the moment comes,
when in these small white rooms,
the beat goes still in a heart that has already given up,
and the thoughts leave a mind that was already long lost,
and everyday another arrives to take the last one’s empty spot,
and it is only a race to see who can outlast who,
and who has the desire to try at all.

I have sat still at night
and watched the stars
hazy and only half there
because of the city lights
that seem to shine a little brighter

and often i have paced
back and forth at 2am
listening to the quiet drone of rain
that is drowned out by the cars
driving people to places they don’t want to be

and once in awhile
i wake up to soft light bleeding into my room
casting shadows on my walls
but the curtain that is drawn
blocks the morning rays
and it is not enough to wake me up

and it is not enough
to glimpse the stars
and have reason to believe
it is not a star at all
but only a mere reflection

and it is not enough
to see the rain fall
but without sound
like a silent serenade
overrun by loud machinery
that doesn’t hold the same grace

and these ******* curtains
that we hang from our windows
they’re killing us
we are not awake
and we are becoming blind
and adjusting to the darkness

it is not enough
not for me
this world is not enough

and the saddest moment
i have ever experienced
is the realization
that the world is not the problem

but we are

and we will be the ruin of ourselves
and everything around us.

The land that has long ago forgotten the smell of dampened Earth
is the land that I call mine
and it is on this land that I was raised and taught that there is no such thing as miracles
but it is on this land that I have wished on an infinite amount of stars to witness just one

My mama used to say the bible was her savior
and she read it to me every night before I fell asleep
but now mama’s bible sits on a dusty shelf rotting away
along with everything else she gave up on

I can still remember the story of Jesus though,
and how He loved us enough to die
and I cannot think of a braver thing to do,
so I pray, and hope for a miracle

but as the weeks passed
the heat began to creep into my mind
and I could not hear my heartbeat over the sound of the war that dictated our little town
desperate for a single drop of reassurance

but it would not come
and we all knew it
so we began to hate each other
and the life we did not choose
and perhaps it was all this hate
that caused the day to come
the day we had prayed for,
for so long that we had forgotten it was still a possibility
the day we looked up to the sky
and saw the shadow fall over our land
the day we looked past our little war
was the day God began to cry

Tears like jewels from heaven fell
shattering us out of our daze
and this was the day
I witnessed a miracle

and after the shouts of thanks had passed
all I could think about was
how ironic it all is
that we are saved, only because of the pain we create.