At night they gather on the roof
Frolicking around while I dream in bed
Watching closely, yet still aloof
I think they're only in my head.  

They always stay near in hand
And all my poetry they have read
Their presence is always grand
I think they're only in my head.

The six of them have hearts of gold
And the blood flowing is even red
Yet their type is still untold
I think they're only in my head.

At night they gather on the roof
I think they're only in my head.

If I had a mom
I will, on this day, write her a poem
But she is been long gone
Suffice it to say, in the stock of moms
She is certainly the best of them all.

My first song
And my first love
My first breath
And my first step

When the world disappeared
She was the one that was there
When everyone was gone
She was the one that said "no need to be alone"

If the world were a gift store
A mother is the best thing in stock
The gift of a mother
Is like being given the whole of Hawaii in a gift wrapper.

Though my mom is gone
This is my most happy poem
So if you still have a mom
Do your most to show her love
The value of what you have is best known when it is gone.

My late mom and the moms in the world
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY with much love.

My thoughts are slow
My words are stale
But I continue to write
These words don't rhyme
These lines don't fit
But I continue to write
These metaphors are used
These feelings aren't unique
Yet I continue to write

I know the pain you feel is deep,
your want from life is simple peace.
And though I cannot guarantee,
please listen closely, as I speak.

Presently you stroll alone,
searching for a hand to hold.
You feel your sorrow in your bones,
in harshest sun, you still feel cold.

Pre - dawn, however, is darkest night
that must be followed by morning light.
I pray you won't give up the fight,
the universe will set things right.

I know at times, it seems unclear
that happiness is always near.
But wholly I believe my dear,
someday soon, you'll find some cheer.

"Close your eyes" you said.

Maybe it will all go away
but still I feel it all.
I can feel your hands in all of the places they are not supposed to be.
I can hear all of the words you're not supposed to say.

Closing my eyes was no safe place at all.

At least when they were open you weren't a monster made up in my 8 year old mind.

You were a person.
Another human being.

Yet still a monster doing all these things monsters do.

Like a nightmare when you do everything in your power to scream but no sound comes out.

A living nightmare with my eyes wide open.