Billy Jeans
Lived next door
I was five
He was tall
He wore denim shirts
And matching jeans.
He’d squeeze me real tight
So I squirmed
And I screamed.
I kicked
And I cried
Until I was freed.

Sometimes

I wish I was Brando

To be the best

At being

Anyone
.....else.

My heart hurts but it will pass
The sting and swelling
It will not last.

But, oh at this moment,
My spirit lies low.

It's just another of
Life’s messy blows.

I am not special or
Better than anyone.

It’s just this time,
I wish I had won.

I feel it, I feel it to my core

I feel it, an empath to my bones

I feel it, not sure where to go

I feel it, the pain I know is real

I feel it, I know down deep that this is time last spent

I feel it, I want to fight it, but to what end?

I feel it, is it worth it?

This is my life, is it worth it?

Does my life justify the fight?

The demise is imminent, is it worth the fight?

The collapse is assured, if I give up, will it be alright?

Oh, America the promise, what has become of us?

No longer I pledge, my country ‘tis of thee

I feel it, as I watch the destruction of liberty

I feel it, the collapse of the “great experiment,” so they say

I feel it, the genocide and slavery of which we were born

Were we ever really different than those who came before?

We tell ourselves lies to keep from confronting  the horror we inflict

I feel it, the hate, the racism, the treatment of people born brown

I feel it, powerless to inspire, to change, to resurrect common ground

I feel it, but what does that even mean anymore?