In a golden desert field  sparrows played.
The sun beamed down from heaven, there was little shade
While the ravens circled over keeping watch
The sparrows kept right on playing, they didn't stop
Along came some chipmunks to join in the game
Two squirrels in the distance wanted the same
So they came over and started a fun chase
Four brown bunnies set up to investigate
While the wind softly blowing carried the voice
Of the robins singing their song of choice
I sat there and watched in amazement
Thinking have I died and to heaven went

The buildings,
on the horizon,
are falling into the sun.

Crooked eyes,
always question,
the meaning of it all.

And corrupt minds,
will always defy,
the rules and the law.

As we await,
the wrath of,
the Gods.

The present state,
of our mother Earth,
shows we don't care,
about her worth.

The decrepit state,
of our future's minds,
will only fall apart,
over time.

We are falling,
we've fallen.

The torn wings,
of the angels,
have fallen to the ground.

The nuclear bombs,
all exploding,
barely make a sound.

And the roars,
from the rioters,
are incredibly loud.

And we await,
the wrath of,
the Gods.

Let the crooked eyes,
and corrupt minds play.
Let them play their game.

Be one with you,
and we will survive,
we are the sane.

We are falling,
we have fallen.

Karma?
I don't adhere to it
But I do believe
We reap what we sow

One cannot expect to have peace
When one has sown nothing but discord
Anymore than one can expect a golden crop of corn
When the planter has actually sown beans

And roots of bitterness will sure grow deep and destructive
When not thoroughly torn out of the ground
For a thriving garden must be rid of invading seedlings 
Of anything that does not foster, but fights its growth

To reap an abundant harvest
Sometimes, it is starting all over from scratch
For we've all been guilty of poor gardening
Have failed as farmers to one degree or another

You wanted succulent peaches
But you got shriveled prunes
You wanted wheat
But you got weeds

To produce a healthy garden
The fruit of forgiveness must grow as freely
As wildflowers in a field
Row upon row of compassion and love

An orchard of plenty for the desperate in need
Is the most rewarding harvest to reap
It will quench the terrible thirst
And satisfy the yearning soul

Did you tell them they were from a mystery man? His heart is all
locked up, no one finds entry there. 'Coz he says, there are broken
shards there that you'll step on. There anyone who enters will see
a hundred broken pieces of themselves, soon as the lights are on.
So he keeps it shut, and he's a mystery man. You'll never know
enough of him. He's just made like that, elusive, elusive. Nights,
he's awake to some unknowable pain. He just cannot bring his
thoughts to cease for a moment. Bats rush out off hidden corners
sinking into shadows as owls keep watch. He dreads deepening
nights and shrinks worn from twilight. He curls up hugging some
silken knots that sew his broken soul, your elusive, elusive man.

To whom it may concern:

I’m sure you have a million questions running through your mind, much like I did before making this decision. I’m sure that deep down inside, you are hurting, just like I was. You may never forgive me for what I did, but just know, I held on for too long. This wasn’t a decision that I made on impact because I was having a bad day. It had me thinking for quite some time and I finally came up with what I thought was best. I was tired of waking up every morning and faking my smile. I was tired of waking up with swollen eyes from crying myself to sleep. I was tired of constantly washing my pillow case from all the mascara marks that had appeared from crying myself to sleep. I was tired of telling you that nothing was wrong and that it wasn’t your fault. All that had been a lie. Everything was wrong. And it was your entire fault.

Sincerely, I’m sure you know by now.*

Imagine waking up and finding that note lying on the soft white sheets next to you. Imagine the thoughts that ran through my mind. Imagine seeing the blade covered in blood on the nightstand that belonged to your girlfriend. Imagine my heart start racing.

I looked around the room. All was quiet like any other normal Sunday morning. But instead of waking up next to Sutton, I woke up to the note that had replaced her.

Sutton had a history of depression and had cheated death only twice as far as I knew, so upon finding the note, I almost had a heart attack. She’d been released from the psychiatric hospital about a month ago. The doctors thought she was better, everyone thought she was better. Whenever I went to visit her after work, she’d seemed happy to see me. I noticed her face light up several times. I’d hold her hand, just to make sure she hadn’t cut herself again since the last time I’d been there. And as far as I could tell and see, she’d been clean. So a month later, when I got the call that I could go pick her up, I was more than thrilled.

After picking her up, we had gone out to lunch, and spent the day together. We walked around the lake, holding hands, talking about what each other had missed. I fell even more in love with her, as if I didn’t think it was possible. She was back to the girl who I’d fallen in love with my senior year of high school. Happy, smiling, enjoying herself, just the way I liked her.

I threw the covers off of me.

“Sutton.” I whispered at first. Then, realizing she wouldn’t hear me, I said it louder. “Sutton.”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and got up. I went to the bathroom where the door was closed and pressed my ear against it. It was silent and I didn’t think she was in there. I tried the ****, but it was locked, proving my previous assumption had been wrong.

“Sutton.” I said into the door. “Sutton, are you okay?”

There was no answer and my heart started pounding even louder.

“Sutton.”

I went back over to the nightstand by our bed and opened my wallet, retrieving a credit card from one of the many slots. My dad had shown me this trick when I had been just a little boy. Taking the card back over to the door, I slid it through the lock on the door and heard the latch move, allowing me to twist the **** and open the door. Sutton was sitting on the side of the edge of the bathtub with her head in her hands.

“Sutton.” I whispered, opening the door wider.

She continued to remain silent.

I went and knelt in front of her. Trying to look up into her eyes, but they were closed. I reached forward to take her hands in mine and she pulled them closer to her.

“Sutton, don’t push me away.” I whispered. “What’s wrong?”

She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head the slightest bit.

“I can’t help, if you don’t talk to me.” I whispered.

She sniffled a couple times, and wiped some fresh tears away from her eyes. I took my hands slowly towards her again, and when she didn’t pull away, I softly grabbed them and held them in mine. I squeezed a little tighter and pulled her gently into my lap, wrapping my arms around her.

“Talk to me.” I whispered before I placed my lips on her forehead. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s hard to say what’s wrong when nothing is right.” She whispered.

I squeezed her tighter and started rocking her back and forth. After a couple minutes, I pulled her arm away from my chest and examined her wrist, where I discovered fresh blood from cuts that would soon turn to scars. I tilted her chin up, making her look at me. Her eyes started watering from tears that would soon begin to pour. I wrapped my arms tight around her and pulled her close to me, as I heard her begin sobbing. Rocking her back and forth, I rubbed her back.

“I need help.” She whispered into my chest.

“Shh. I know. It’s okay.”

Strangers in every day clothes continued walking back and forth in front of me, as I sat in the most uncomfortable chair there could possibly be, with my head bent in my hands like Sutton had been that day. Holding back tears turned out to be harder than what I thought. We had stood at the front desk, preparing to check her in, when she had suddenly had a change of heart.

“This is a mistake.” She said.

I looked at her, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t need this.”

“Sutton, you wanted this.” I said, “it was your idea. Remember?”

“But, I don’t want it anymore.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I just don’t.”

“Well, that’s not a good enough reason.” I explained.

“Please, don’t make me stay here.” She pleaded some more.

“I’m sorry, Sutton.” I said.

“If you love me, you won’t make me stay.”

“No, if I love you, I’ll do just that.” I explained. “You’re not healthy. You need this. It’s not permanent. You won’t be here forever. Just until you get better.”

“So you’re saying there’s something wrong with me?”

Playing the guilt trip had always been something she was good at. She had me wrapped around her skinny little fingers because I was so head over heels in love with her, but there was no way she was getting out of this one.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No denial.”

“Sutton. Stop. I love you.” I said. “I’m doing this because I love you.”

“No, you’re doing this because I’m broken.”

It's all about time and how we don't have enough of it.
It's all about money and how we need more of it.
It's all about petrol and the high price of it.
It's all about school and how we are so fed up of it.
It's all about guys and girls and how they don't seem to get 'it'.
It's all about family and how we don't feel part of it.
It's all about sleeping and how it takes ages to arrive at it.
It's all about a cigarette and how we shouldn't be smoking it.
It's all about a drug and how easily we can take it.
It's all about the bad dudes and how easily they can do it.
It's all about a gun and how simple it is to fire it.
It's all about health and how we don't look after it.
It's all about war and asking what's the point of it.
It's all about music and the messages within it.
It's all about poetry and what someone has to say in it.
It's all about ignorance and how there's too much of it.
It's all about religion and having a moan about it.
It's all about birth and how we should treasure it.
It's all about death and how we say we don't fear it.
It's all about life and how we choose to live it.

When I was a boy, about ten years old
I wanted to be a Ninja
A killer, stone cold

So I would go to my room
To practice my secret moves
Against imaginary opponents
Who were sure to lose

I would even dress all in black
For the really epic fights
Then throw my plastic Ninja stars
And quickly turn off the lights

I was a master of stealth
Ready to take on the world
Using my Ninja weapons
To save pretty girls

With wooden sword in hand
And steely guts…

I had to come back to reality
Because mom brought home doughnuts!

emotionally drained
past calling back
echoing all around
haunting and foreboding
threatening to reemerge
or is it just past expectations
past fears,
that I place over the present
though these words
are frighteningly familiar
too close to heart
to ignore
too close to past pain
past insecurities
to not worry,
not worry that it is
all too true
not worry that
the pattern will continue
that it really is cause of me -
the mine shaft is
closing all around