Does the world know when to cry?
Avidly, the decision of cold...
Could, is a word to the wise
Marveling at a tear one day, could love share a final goal?

Many ways, with a single idea
Mere to fore, the day of vanity...
Sat in high regard, but with sharing as a trophy
Little faces; renown is a pace of charity...

Devoted to peace, a savior will say:
In my heart, with obscurity as a gift...
Measure upon now, new is to be may?
A swallow of pride, with an eye to lift?

From due, we are a family...
For youth, we intend to be free...
More who, than we know; is a key...
Or soon, patience will keep time for me...

With the eyes of truth
Means to an end, is a waking deem
Silent as sent, but met with seeming couth
Simple might, we took; from the world's dreams...

You told me to jump,  
take the risk,
take the leap of faith.
I jumped out of trust,
expecting to fall right into your arms.
Instead I met hard ground,
a thin layer of rocks.
Cuts, bruises, and wounds
Crushing, suffocating pain
Yet I only cried the moment I realized you betrayed me.

////It’s a subtle reminder;
a constantly temporary kind of repeat
—sometimes I cry myself to sleep,
and think to myself, “Hey, was it all
just another beautiful dream”

the scar is big
it is bleeding
the wound is real
it is aching
i haven't reach fifty
i feel like sinking
i always thought i am fine
but no i am not okay
it is bad to blame
it is hard to be ashamed
those scars where really there
you just made up
another
or it is burning up

a cigarette tastes good after this drink, but I know at some point through the night I’m going to look at myself as tears fall in the bathroom sink.