I thought I was ready to love again,
But what I thought was wrong.
I thought this time would be different.
I should've listened all along.

They listen to the ruses
Use them as excuses
For staying home and getting fat
They ***** because they’re poor
And never open the door
More than to let in the cat.

It’s a quiet existence
If you offer no resistance
When they take your rights away.
The feds commit crimes
But you get to work on time
And limp along with half your pay.

It’s a scary kind of game.
You say you know who to blame
Because you choose to ignore the facts.
You continue half blind;
You have made up your mind
No matter how the one you chose acts.

Regardless how we shout
You vote the other guy out
And leave the crooks to do their worst.
If you actually research
And quit quoting your church
You can make the right choice first.

Instead you and I suffer
And freedom stutters
Because of those who know little.
Then those who study
Get ******* by somebody
Who punishes right left and middle.

Because we are no longer
The wise, the good, the stronger
But the biggest bullies on the block.
We had things headed right
Then, in the middle of the night
You lazies hit liberty in the head with a rock.

I no longer question
The way of this world
Not that I would want to anyhow

I no longer ask
Why beggars are scorned and ignored
Even the children younger than me

I no longer ask
About Mermaids and Fairies and Elves
Nor the werewolves and vampires

I no longer ask
Where the sun and the moon came from
Or if the angels live on clouds

I no longer question
The way of this world
Not the questions that matter, at least

The worst thing to say
to someone like me,
Is to stop being sad
Is to stop the faking.

I freeze at your speech.
The venom you spit
Burn's deep in my mind.
Your so harshly ignorant!

A girl sits alone on worn, cracked steps
Not seen by any, but seeing of all
She sees the beauty, and lovely things
She sees the ugly, and tragic things

People pass by the worn steps, isolated from all
They need to see, she thinks
To see the beautiful and lovely things
To see the ugly and tragic things

Pen in hand, paper on lap
Chewing on lip, taking a breath

She writes of tenderness,
A cheeky child grinning as he embraces his mother

She writes of adrenaline,
A reckless teen screaming as he jumps off a waterfall

She writes of anguish,
An old man sobbing as he holds his lifeless dog

She writes of loneliness,
A girl sitting alone on worn, cracked steps

Stomp, stomp, stomp
Unhappy glares
He walks up the stairs
The kid is stirring up tears.
Yelling and cries
Mixed with more stomping
You told me I was unwanted,
To just go away if I wasn't helping.
You didn't even tell me what you were doing,
It's not ignoring if I can't hear you.

At what point does sadness step into depression.
Memories fade to entertaining images.
Yet havent brought a smile for some time now.
The faces that brightened up the days.
Have moved on.
Leaving small keepsakes behind.
But one dares not touch them.
In fear that they too will evaporate.
Erasing their existence all together.
Even now.
Some erode with just the mere thought.
Of what was once held so dear.
What is to become of it all.
Everyday that inches by.
Does an inevitable page tear itself away.
And submission.
Has only brought cold fingers to numb it all.
This transmutation has coiled silently around its unaware prey.
Once was their comfort found in its constricting grasp.
Even now..
Does it not seem the way it is.
For with every precious moment devoured.
Is there one less to look back on.
In melancholy.