A bad hand delt, a crippling hopelessness felt
In possession of a heart that can't and won't melt
Whipped unmercifully with a tanned hide belt
So often in fact it no longer leaves a welt
Only a lonely darkness under this human pelt
Always knew when the fear was near by how bad it smelt
And out of respect, or maybe terror, every time it arrived, I knelt

©2023

thoughts boggled in
as your heart thumps within
the silent waves that only you can hear
the walls have glistened as the voices arrived
it was out of nowhere
you'll feel the motion; petrified

What would it take
to make a grown man cry?
When the only thing important to him
shoots themself and dies

And nobody realized
what was going through her mind
til she loaded one in the chamber
and put it between her eyes

And her soul goes up to the skies
And everyone's asking why
She was young, loving and selfless
It wasn't her time to die

It's only when it's too late
That's when everybody tries
And it's only when it's too late
Now that's when everybody cries

So tell your loved ones they matter
and you might save their lives
'Cause it's only when it's too late
Now that's when everybody cries

A rhetorical question finds me asking
(to no one in particular) why I recall
the names of grade school teachers
approximately fifty years ago (whose
names listed below), when the need

to retrieve necessary information due
ring examinations (less time ago)
often found me seized with sudden
inability to remember any vital ants
sirs (even including my name), thus

grudgingly handing over blank test paper
analogously surrendering a vital
document gracing terms of defeat
into the scaly claws (zen nay), sans

first to sixth grade Precambrian relic
(Missus Batson, Missus Rittenhouse,
Missus Wells, Mister Stout,
Missus Shaner, or Miss Rinderle).

Invariably majority of first thru
sixth grade accorded accredited
ancient authenticated creatures.
They freely exercised diabolical

churlish ******* animalistic zeal
us yakking, wickedly unprintable
upon (unprincipled urchin) at
receiving end of fiendishly grue
some hellish instructions. Assign
ments buttressed with ultimatums

harkening back to Jurassic period
earlier in dawning primate con
sciousness. Lesson material kindled
with justifiable license in league
with garnered insignia. Heft

to bring pupils to heal predicated
via warp and weft woven wonder
fully. Wrought writs welcomed
whips with warranty whenever
recalcitrant ruffian refused

respecting reptilian rubric repre
sentative rattling (The Idler Wheel
Is Wiser Than the Driver of
the ***** and Whipping Cords

Will Serve You More Than Ropes
Will Ever Do), which loosely
rendered regularly warbled
wishy washy verse curmudgeons
freedom granted to interpret

as one decrepit, hawkish insignia
certified one beaming Eve and/
or stud deed brute soffit. Education
often relied on the weekly reader,

and letters to and/or from Aunt
Emma. Nefarious mean linkedin
kickstarter jawboning torturous
treatment tolerated, asper imps

of the pervert, mutant Ninja
Turtles duty bound antsy
youthful yokel yodelers
weathering ululating sing-song
and quintessential precepts.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Crippling depression
Is not good for you

Even though you think depression is good
The crippling makes it not very good
Jake searches up crippling depression
But then he finds that he is depression

You may think that this poem is bad
You probably wont live to see another day
So just be happy, and don't be sad

Go follow @devenpawarr on instagram to remove your possible symptoms of crippling depression