For all the time I've know you
You've worn a mask upon your face
It appeared beautiful, perfect, and friendly
But now I realize that wasn't the case

For hiding underneath that mask
Was a soldier bent on destruction
Posing as a comrade fighting for good
But following the other side's instruction

You wormed your way into our ranks
And we accepted you as one of our own
But all of us were unaware
Your true intentions had not yet been shown

When an opportunity presented itself
You struck without any hesitation
Our troops started dropping left and right
Without any sign of infiltration

You knew you only had so long though
Before your actions got you caught
So you moved to abolish your final target
A tougher task than you had thought

That night, when you attacked me
You allowed your mask to fall
And as you fled, I caught a glance
Of the real person beneath it all

Well, "What doesn't **** you makes you stronger"
And you make me tougher every day
Which is why no matter what you do
I refuse to let you stand in my way

I learned some valuable lessons
About how you fight this war
And now those same old boring tactics
Won't work here any more

So thank you for the knife
That you embedded in my back
For you just gave me the tool I need
To defend against any future attack.

A teachers heart is one of learning.
Of constant modification.
Lending pieces of it at the sound of a child's voice.

What is not seen  
Are the broken parts.
The times when my heart falls out of my chest.

My child, I am sorry
My child, you don't deserve it
My child, here is safe

A heart of protection.
Showing each student their worth
Value more valuable than the words of this poem

Without you my child
My heart
Would simply

collapse

Each time it diminishes, I know it's not gone forever.
It will always return.
Anger pushes me deeper into my corrupted, compromised brain.

Painless agony that hides behind a veil of apathy
I physically hurt from emotional agony.
There is no tangible reason.

I'm fighting myself, and no matter who wins, I will always lose.

I am a zombie–
Neither dead nor alive, but merely walking around, bringing others down.

Writers are brave
for every time they write,
they rip their chests open,
and let the world know
what is inside their hearts.

A poem a day
Keeps the doctor away
Two he may need to be called

Three poems a day
The doctor’s on his way
No way could his coming be stalled!

Four poems a day
The doctor has to stay
Five and tough is his work

If the number are six
The doctor’s in a fix
How could he stop the flying spark!

Poems by the hour
Is beyond the doctor’s power
Poems by the minute is his bane

It’s where he loses self
Badly needs a help
To be declared utterly insane!

Yehudit paused
momentarily
on her way
to the store

her husband
at her side

she looked over
it was him
by the fountain
sitting there

older now like she
but still he
Benny

she tried to take in
what she could

the Elvis quiff of hair
had gone
and what was left
was greying close

he had a stick
holding it
against him

her husband
looked around
but didn't comprehend
the rush of blood
to her head
her quickening
of pulse

she walked on
Benny had seen
and smiled
and she smiled back

almost within
that school girl again
seeing him
and that first kiss
that Christmas
many decades before
moonlight
clouds
grey

some were singing carols
but he and she
ah yes
that was something else
she recalled

but no more
and she
and her husband
entered the store.