Around this time of the year,
when the moon rises with the sun,
when I pretend that my breath is a cloud of smoke,
when fewer and fewer people leave their homes...
Around this time is when violence ends and forgiveness begins,
when people stand up for what they believe in,
when people speak their minds...
Around this time, I surround myself with the kindest people,
to fill the loneliness of my heart,
when I ponder and ponder,
how I became me,
and why I am where I stand,
I am filled with a myriad of emotions.
sadness. joy. regret. love.
I reminisce about these moments,
so that I may never forget,
that no matter where life takes us,
or what fate we await,
whether it be an adventure or a mission,
to fight for life,
to stop the killings...
And as we stand in the eye of the storm,
I remind myself,
that our life is an unbreakable force that pulls us together.
even during these darkest times,
I know that the light is just at the end of this tunnel.

Dark skies.
Possibly rain.
Only one thing on my mind remains.
This view
This life
Me...
How long before it gets old?
Till it grows mold?
Birds chirping.
I see no sun.
Only a book.
Not filled with words of wisdom
Or lyrics of poetry,
But an itinerary.
A schedule to follow.
A routine.
That's what how I live life.
How morbidly boring.

I can't fall asleep.
I keep thinking about the way you weep.
Crying in front of her grave.
With your hair down, you look just like her.
Letting those tears fall that you tried to save.
2 years since we've met have been a blur.
I think we were meant to meet.
To help each other to beat.
The demons and the monsters that creep.
Inside the crooks of our mind.
Together, we vow to take that leap.
To help each other find.
The life in the sunshine.
The life that we want to call mine.
Stay with me until I bleed.
Promise me this deed.
I never want you to be in front of my grave.
Or writing about the love that you crave.
Because love will always be there for you.
Those who care will always remain true.
When the time comes that I die: laugh, drink, and move on.
Leave my grave, I know you are sad, but don't cry for me, be strong.

I wish I could sing the pain away.
I wish that hugs and kisses healed wounds.
I wish that shooting stars could grant wishes and erase our scars.
I wish that good things would happen to good people.
I wish that cancer was a crab and not an incurable disease.
I wish a broken heart could be fixed.
I wish we all knew the mysteries of this world.
I wish that life was fair.
I wish wishes came true...
I wish I could be with you.

The lights are off. The dark shades me from the world. No one can see me. The light, does it exist? Do I exist? I wish to be invisible, but is it worth it? I want to be loved, to be liked, and most importantly to be missed. I cower under these covers and they are my fort. What I cannot see will not hurt me, but sadly, we do not need eyes to feel pain. We do not need a heart to feel pain. It is natural: a chaos that festers from birth and then kills us.

As I sit on this desk,
I'm in hurry...
To finish studying.
To finish this test.
To prepare for tonight.
To prepare for tomorrow.
This cycle never ends.
And I begin to worry.
I fear for my life.
I am aging.
I am changing.
I am growing.
But I look up to see little people in bright yellow and marvel red.
I see children.
They smile.
They have energy.
They are curious.
They have hope.
Oh, how glad I am to see these tiny moments.
I love to watch the future grow
And reminisce about those days.
As an adult,
I am their future.
But soon, they will be my future.
From youth to elderly,
We will revert back to our original figures,
To our old selves.
Where we sleep all day.
Where we have no cares about our schedule.
Where we can only fix the past and try our best to create a better future.
That's what this cycle of life is all about.
To think that I figured this out in a library...
I guess it's true what they say about books.
They are more than words.
They are the stories of our elderly,
the desires of our youth,
and the lessons learned of our fathers.
We are one.
I have nothing to fear.
I have no worries.
My future is in their hands.
A generation filled with hope.

We shook hands.
To say hello.
We shared a kiss.
To say goodnight.

I fell for
His freckles.
His corny smile.
His monkey ears.
Which magnified his tender heart.
He was kind, oh, so very kind.
His heart was an open book.
It told no secrets to share or
Regrets to ponder on.

Everybody loved him.

And he loved everyone and everything.
except for me…

But I loved him anyways.

Summer.
is a time of Happiness.
When Smiles.
and Laughter.
come with Old friends.
and New.
where Joy.
can be experienced by crying at Weddings.
and cuddles and story-telling during Bonfires.
where Fireworks bring devious pranks and silly danger.
when the beautiful Flowers bloom.
and the Beach is calling your name.
a time when the Water feels good on your feet.
and the Sun warms your skin.
a time when Love is in the air.
and Strangers become lovers.
where Home is a destination.
and Adventure is the key motivation.

The fog is sweet. It envelopes my being, and it calms my nerves. Its obscurity awakens my senses. Always on my toes, I am alert. This mist, it refreshes my soul. Once more, I am young in search of danger. The fog, it draws me in. I cannot fight it and I won’t. It beckons my name, and it knows who I am. The shroud opens. I enter it, the fog. It swallows me whole. I will never return. For in this abyss, I feel alive. I crave life and life craves me.

I know it’s in me, this word called hate.
It creeps and crawls. It dwells within the
tip of my heart and it blackens my soul.

I can feel it.
Claws out, it tears at my thoughts and it slashes my dreams.
It needs to get out.
I weep in pain, in agony, and in fear of this word called hate.
It is a babe without a heartbeat.
It is a mother without children.
It is a friend with no one to call friend.
It is a lover in need of love.
It is the monster we call ourselves.

This hate is in me.

My trust broken.
My senses numb.
My life stolen before me.
My almost lover lost.

Hate.

Rage.

Fury.

This darkness is all I see. It has a form, whatever it maybe. It differs from each person. It is what we don’t want it to be.

You and I stand
While I’m
Grasping a whiskey bottle in hand
A cigarette in between your fingers
A beret in your hair
The puff of smoke lingers
With this, we swear
To fill our empty hearts
In times of sin
To calm our nerves
Before we lose or win
To light the fire
During peace or danger
To love ourselves
Even the strangers
This is our vow
Our reminder to care
to fight, to love, and to share
Till the smoke in our lungs
**** us and our livers fail
Then we are left alone to die, to be hung.