To all of my fellow classmates,
In the hateful sixth grade,
Thank you for the experience,
I am grateful for your autumnal inconvenience,
Thank you for letting me live alone,
Carving my own bejeweled gravestone,
Morality gone,
Boundaries blurred,
Began with that one curse word,
Why does adolescence,
Have to take someone’s innocence?
Weren’t we all blooming and beloved,
Poplars of the snow,
In the shadows,
Of distant meadows?

Shattered dreams,
Splattered streams,
Souls lost forever,
Never have I ever,
Imagined that life was not held dear,
A mother and a wife’s rarest tear,
Chernobyl’s sweet children gone,
Borders crossed, never drawn,
9/11’s forgotten brothers and fathers,
Orphaned toddlers,
Roam NYC,
Here, I stand in solidarity,
Never forget Chernobyl and 9/11,
May the trees of heaven,
Bless the victims,
Peace be with you dear inflicted

I wish to experience sober the bravery of drunk
I wish to experience adult the immediacy of childhood
I wish to experience the unconstrained love of the innocent and unbroken
I wish to emerge myself in the hope of he who has never suffered disappointment
We all get the possibility to live life at its fullest
Why do we aim for satisfaction and settle for even less?
Mediocracy is a principle of averageness, but ought never to be a goal in itself
Unique. Human. Individuals.
Do not forget your pride
Do not underestimate the value of true joy
I do believe in charity
Do I believe in Me?

.
We were as downy birds,
Sky once had names for us,
Rain pooled into faery wells,
Supernatural was our blood.

We saw each with opened eyes,
And touch was permanent as sun,
Light swooned about our keeping
And the earth was without tomb.

But time soon railed its perishments
And a star turned with pointed wind,
We lost the sun raise of innocence
And the glass of truth broke in a jar.

Now, lovers roam in the still hollows
And reminisce only on stoney banks,
A great ocean of peace was drowned
And to childish walls, a castle of sands.
.

This is the melancholy of Innocence, so do sit and have a glass. Drink slowly, and savour the taste friends; for innocence shortly lasts. She is as a flower, most beautiful at bloom, but, we must not forget now; that flowers must wither too.

So what is the sadness... the melancholy of Innocence, if all things must pass away? Perhaps it is the longing then, that one's innocence did remain. Yes, the melancholy of Innocence; is that deepest longing, day after day. The longing for something, you know well that you can't regain.

I’ve grown numb
And accustomed to
Whatever that was deemed
Extraordinary.
Does this make me dull
If the complexity of the universe
Has become
Ordinary?
No longer a stranger or an enigma
To my inner experience?
Does this make me boring
If I no longer find joy
In discovering something
Unsurprising?
For when you
Constantly dwell and live
In the unknown
Is it really a big deal
To find something unexpected?
I mean... what did you expect anyway?

I am more interested in human interactions
In the consequences
And the causes
Of my actions
And I have internalised the outside world
And the outside wonders and
Discipline and harmony
Has become my quest and
My childish discovery.

I can see all the messes
In my life
The ones I made long ago
And the ones
Other people made
Of my life
Of my innocence
Of my trust
And I want to scream
With the injustice
Or perhaps exact revenge
But those chances are long past
Covered over by years of secrets
Lies, and therapy
I really have moved beyond
The pain
But every now and then
The trigger will come
My skin will crawl
And I’ll despise you
All over again