Please don’t make fun,
I know my thoughts ramble,
but I’m picking at pieces of my brain
storming ‘round my head like bees
threatening to sting.

The ones I love are dead-
not in body, but in soul,
and I am left to witness in silence.
Pain when felt is insufferable;
Pain when witnessed is more deeply felt.

My words may never save
nor speak truth to power,
but they are my own:
Blood of my blood, bone of my bone,
And I may learn to love their ugly shapes.