we are all but the same,
a cacophony of liars pretending
we are special, we are different,
false sentiments echoing through
cavernous laboratories
where a trail of clones in white jackets listen to
Miss Boss Lady
but how is she any different?
her skin, her voice, her features--
all a jumble of the same DNA she preaches about
but what about the face of a nation,
slammed for making the hard decisions
no one else will?
how is he any different
than his self-righteous opposers,
opinions put on a pedestal
that can only be read by someone on a high horse?
how about the middle-aged mom who
decides any opposition,
any challenging of beliefs from her son is disrespectful?
is she really “in charge?”
is he really being “disrespectful?”
only a society so unmotivated by the Human Condition,
a cacophony of liars,
would think they were anything different.
-a.c.b

Have you heard of Alice,
The girl in Wonderland?
I am sure you have.
The problem, you see
lies in the words you didn't read.
The part the writer did not need.
While Alice laid upon a bed,
Her mother watched and stroked her head.
The doctors said it was psychosis
And so they gave her higher doses.
She's over-stressed,
She is a mess,
But every day she takes her meds.
She can't find Wonderland again
And so she uses pad and pen
To write some poems, oh so sad
But they help others feel less bad
And that will help her feel less ******,
The closest thing she feels to happy.

Our backs hold stories
Not even the spine
On a book can handle

Years ago
We stayed up till
3 am talking,
And today
I don’t even know
How to say hi,

"I'm an open book"
She says

Written in
code.

my mother told me she'd never been hurt by a man as much as i had been hurt by you
never been treated as horrifically as you treated me
she asked me what that kind of pain felt like because she couldn't understand
and as she watched my own child break in front of her eyes
i replied "mum, it's the kind of pain that you only feel every so often, when all the air has been taken from your lungs and you feel as if nothing is real. and you feel as if you are a ghost among the living, barely existing. and the worst thing is, it always comes from the opposite direction that the winds are to blow, the storm comes from nowhere."
she asked me how i knew what this pain was to remind her how i got here, and i told her, i loved someone more than i had ever, and then one day, they decide to play their cards against your odds and the memories still haunt you at 3 am when you're alone and all you can think of is how they used to make you feel and you make up excuses to still be with them, in any way you can, until it physically makes you ill and you unconsciously start to **** yourself from the pain. and eventually, the feeling becomes so natural, that you forget what it's like to feel normal and you call the pain love and let it live on.