I almost laughed in hateful mirth, when I saw your shoulders tremble in fear. Because we both knew you had every reason to fear me.

.

.

.

Until I realized that beasts are more dangerous when afraid.

You're an adult?
You're family?
You're wealthy?
You're famous?
You're smart?
You're poor?
You're insecure?
You're athletic?
You--?

You expect my automatic respect?

No.

*******.

You don't get my respect.

You earn it.

I don't care who you are or what your problems are,
you don't disrespect me and then expect me to
say nothing and just respect you because
of your status or state.

This is the year in which
no one can speak their opinion
without being singled out or hated on.

This is the year in which
racial tension has increased tenfold
- a raw and pure discrimination.

This is the year in which
anyone who tries to help another
they are looked upon with criticism.

This is the year in which
two different generations clash
- hate and rage spreading everywhere.

This is the year in which
media brings death and pain into our screens
and makes the world seem like such a horrible place.

This is the year in which
no political candidate seems adequate enough
to satisfy the angry People.

This is the year in which
I fear that I'll look back upon when I'm older and
think, "It was a huge mess, that started an even bigger mess."

.
.
.

I saw a video of a man stabbing another man
with a knife multiple times; the scene was gruesome
and I felt sick to my stomach - I watched
as the victim struggled (I lost count of
how many times he was stabbed, all I could see
was the blood on the floor and his flailing limbs).

I read newspaper articles about the deaths
of colored people by the hands of our untrained law
and I read how both sides are growing in hate -
"he should've kept his hands up!" or "it's because I'm black!"

I tried to be one of the people who pushes for peace,
stating that All Lives Matter, only to be cursed out
and humiliated - "saying All Lives Matter is a bunch of bull!"
or "you're stupid!" or "you're useless!"

.
.
.

This is 2016 and it's full of more crap
than any other year of my entire life.

It seems to me that as time passes, our society
and morals just deteriorate more and more.

The King conjures melody through an electric storm.

"Sensual." Whisper the audience;
and they dance, carving paths into themselves,
arriving at the core of their humanity:
a clearing, a small space where the air is untainted.

Loss of the self, bliss.
Bliss via sound.

"Sensual melancholy." Whisper the artists;
observing from a distance:
No matter how close, no matter how delicate their touch,
each time they pick up a brush, they will dip it in your veins-
they will paint with your blood.

They will smile at a tragedy.

"Melancholy." Cries the boy- but silently,
like ghosts who stifle their cries
lest they scare away their only company.

How he wishes he could speak,
empty his lungs and heart of every sound, every cry.
His throat bleeds through the unstable screeching
and they dance.

They always dance.

"Melancholy. I am melancholy
and you will never cradle my broken heart;
you will never know my pain
for I will never speak of it.

Alas,
I am so very alone
and you- you who are so unaware-
you are my only company."

Cries the King.

Tonight he will die again- as he has so many times before-

and this is his threnody;

the screaming of his storm,
the cries they do not hear.