Hatred, it seems, is plaguing my lungs
And dramatically piercing my tongue
I am hopelessly confused:
Where do these bullet shaped words come from?
What is the purpose of this deadly
Thought constructed weaponry that spills
So effortlessly from my oral cavity?
Why is it that I allow the calvary to permeate
My filter solely designed to avoid anguish?
Am I compensating for the damage inflicted upon me?
Compensating for the time I so willingly gave
To fuel my addiction to consistency?

Can I say, "******, this suffering is enough!"?

Hope, it seems, ****** my mind
With its irritating relentless plea for attention
Attention I must provide
If only because I the cry for notice
All too well; like the back of my hand
Because in a world so fueled by hate,
So fueled by the concept of good always ending
We all need to be seen
A pain of the past causes too many pains
For the future, but
Even when it seems impossible
A chin will be lifted by a hand that whispers,
"I see you
And I hear"