heart broken but
still standing proud
in this world with
deceiving harsh mystique

Most days...
I feel like a zero,
Most days...
I pretend to be a hero.

I Used To Be an Optimistic
Child
Believing everything was black and white.
~~~~
It was the first summer in our new
home.
I was six or seven
My Father needed help in the lawn so feeling
in a helping mood, I went out.
His hands were in the dirt and his forehead
was bronzed.
He waved his arm at a small,
Delicate flower.
Go pull weeds.
Not one to question him while, he was busy,
I went over to inspect the flower- i mean ****
How could something so tiny, even more do than my hands,
be considered a ****?

My tiny mind thought weeds were
dark green and barley clinging
to life, with thorns that sliced at
other helpless plants and animals.
Almost like bad people.

I imagine it was then that
My small mind had begun
to grasp
at the idea that plants and people alike
could deceive you.

You're dancing on a pile of corpses
A pile of people succumbed to your act
An act of need, need of companionship
Need of love and compassion
Need for happiness
But an act all the same.

You're not a good actor
Or, at least not to me
I'm sitting here watching as you lie through your teeth
As you sly and swindle your way into innocent hearts
I sit and I watch searching for your trick
Your "skill"
The thing you're using to trick and deceive
Since you're tricking many
Many, except
For me.