Our bed
One we'll
Share in the future
Where I rest my eyes
And you occasionally do too
Where the stains
Of our passion
Appear
Where our child
Shall be made
The bed they'll
Crawl into after having
A nightmare
The bed we grow older in
Each night trusting it
To be gentle
With our bodies
That are growing frail
Our bed
Where we'll leave this world
Our bed where many
Laughs
And moans
And secrets will be told
Our bed
The one to carry us through
Our journey of life.

Children between the ages of six and ten
boys not even close to being men
And you, you call yourself a man?
A man of what, of cowardice
a man of strange
of deranged
thoughts
scared faces
reduced to
scarred hearts
unable to heal
being torn apart
All the pain is too real
The eighteen children too young to know
to go to the unknown
A place set for a person no longer here
Eighteen children you robbed of their lives
put their families through all the fear
For what reason
Children no older than fingers on their hands
no younger than the time on their stands
standing graves for eighteen children
who won't know anymore of a summer breeze
or getting down on one knee
to pledge the love
the same love you took
from families
and victims alike
Causing all the strife
So you call yourself a man
when you stood before
eighteen children
That you put on their death bed
along with yourself
who couldn't listen
to his own **** head.
36 parents who have to
identify their child
who no longer roams free and wild
all because you exiled
The innocence and life
out of eighteen
bight
children
Tell me, what right
did you have
to be given the title
of a *Man

I was perched
high above the busy market streets
in the stone wall trees
across the street from your favorite cafe.

You took a seat in the patio
that overlooked the sightseers
living in the moment,
and the photographers
trying to capture the time that was moving too quickly-
knowing this moment could last forever.

I morning light was radiant
in your dark brown hair
like a glimmer of concealed hope
that you and I both share.

I glided down from my arboreal
with my wings - blemished and fragmented,
yet cheerful and warm -
dancing in the warm sea air.

I landed on the rooftop
and I sang to you,
like you've always imagined me doing.

You smiled. A sublime sight to see.
And you closed your eyes and listened,
and breathed,
realizing that time is moving too quickly,
but knowing you can capture this moment

and make it last forever.

I saw you this morning,
You made me weak at the knees
Next time I'll brace myself
For when your smile breaks my heart