In kindergarten we learn the alphabet,
We color and make terrible art,
And that sharing is caring.

In 1st grade we learned bigger words,
With the worst thing we had to worry about,
Was yet a simple spelling quiz on Friday.

In 5th grade we learn numbers are confusing,
And learn about the planet we live on,
We find out why the moon goes away.

In 6th grade we learn about morals and sorrows,
As we're quickly taught the horrors of our history,
Of all of the pain, torture and lost of life we caused.

you always think i'm lying
even though the truth serum
that you gave me,
(in the form of forcing myself out of my body)
has been administered in such a large dose
that it's seeping out of my eyes

there's a bright light shining in my eye
and i have taken the multiple blows from your words
some of which still leave imprints.

i tell you that i want to leave
that i want him to pack up and take me with him
because maybe then i can find some peace
in the ever turning turmoil that haunts my mind.

you just say,
"i don't care."

maybe you're too busy playing the victim
to watch me claw at my face in an attempt to get out.

I always feel too much, and
you never feel enough, like
two halves of the wrong circles
fighting to become whole.

So is this how it ends? Or we
could try and make a square.
I always care too much and
you care just the right amount,
so this one's on me.

You usually know what to say.
So we try sine and cosine.

They work. We're waves.
It's a throwaway sunset.
It's time.

The devil is dancing on
your shoulder. All the
angels are asleep on mine.

dear society:
why do you proclaim
ignorance is an easy
passage to popularity
jealousy is how to earn respect
tearing eachother down is
how to succeed
and caring takes you
on a route to failure
how does this establish
humanity when it is almost
inhumane

A treasure that can't be reached,
A blooming flower in a dying meadow,
A friend in hostile territory,
A start shining bright light up my day,
A sparkling gem glimmering in the sunlight,
A reminder who I am.

you took away all  that i had
you knocked my heart down
sharp arrow of destitution pierced through my chest
slashing my heart into two pieces of junk
which meant absolutely nothing to you
for this very end .

Mom has been gone for years
but just now I was brought to tears
from a poem about my childhood piano playing
and how she patiently listened, probably pained
Mom told me she loved hearing me play soft or loud
and ‘twas the one thing I could do to make Dad proud.

Replaying years of hurt for mistakes they made
bound me in shadows and shade,
but now late in life I again recall
the character of their care for my soul
and cherish the humanity of these two
and their suffering that got me through.