When I’m sad
When I’m sad I don’t want you to tell me to remember happier times
when I’m sad I don’t want you to tell me it gets better
When I’m sad I don’t want you to tell me ill be fine
When I’m sad I don’t want you to tell me to stop being blue
When I’m sad I want you to tell me that it is okay to be sad
That you’ve felt it too
I want you to let me
f
e
   e
      l
Until it gets better
Until I am reliving the happier times
Until I can say I’m fine with a smile
Until the blue leaves my body and fills the sky

290 people killed in a mass bombing epidemic in Sri Lanka, 2019
255 people killed in a suicide bombing in Syria, 2019
148 people killed in a suicide bombing in Pakistan, 2018

and you're telling me that all you're going to do is send your 'thoughts' and tell your Instagram followers that you are 'praying'?
You sit healthily, happily in your perfectly built house,
find a photo of perhaps a
broken down building,
a crying family,
caption it with a prayer emoji and a heart
and then what?
Do you forget about it? do you carry on with your day?
Thank you for your thoughts and thank you for your prayers, they are signs of hope
but
People are DYING.

These are the kinds of things you see on the news and think, well ****. This is heartbreaking,
horrific,
but we just see it as something that happens.
We don't really know what is happening until it happens to us.
And it could.
What if it did? would you want thoughts and prayers? or would you want action?

Let this be our wakeup call, to do not only what is wanted of us, but also expected of us as humans.

Take action.
Make a difference.
See a change.

A gentle breeze rustled the last remaining leaves off the trees. Naked, twisted branches stretched across the blue lit sky; the sun propelled itself through the thick cirrus clouds. The lacy waves crashed the shore like a drumbeat that echoes my heart, the soft breeze blows the tension right out of my body, making me forget everything in this world except the present.

-                              
                               sometimes I wish you didn't exist
  because you stab knives in My back
                  and bend me until I break.
                                 the feelingS i feel
                                 cannot be Substituted or
                                             allaYed, mitigated;
            the weapon and the wOund are both
               permanently etched Under my skin.

the limit of proportionality
is the is the point beyond which Hooke's law is no longer true

where the material you are stretching
becomes permanently stretched
so that the material does not return to its
original shape

and i guess people are like that too

you can only stretch for so long
until you reach a point where you break

physically.
emotionally.
psychologically.

                                                               ­        Broken

Sometimes
I stop myself
from whispering the word
As if leaving my mouth
Habitually
Might wear it down

****