Am I weak for crying?
Am I strong for mourning?
Last night is so blurry
Yet I remember it vividly
I filled my head with music
And my heart with pleading
I tried to reassure my mind
“Leave it all in the past, behind”
But it always seemed to flee the spaces
The cage opened by my stubbornness
How many tears were they?
Does it even matter anyway?
Have you ever cried for me?
I know you mostly have
But I’ll decide to just ignore it
And just fill my head with a lie,
“You would never weep for someone as cruel as me”

I never lied to you
Just never said the whole truth
So I would make a mask
And everything would be OK
But once you left I couldn’t anymore
My mask then shattered to the floor
Were you scared that day?
I don’t remember your face
Do you blame yourself?
Or just prosecute the fiend?
Whatever your response may be
Thank you for believing in me

“Aren’t you cold?”
I used to wonder
As you grabbed the snow
The white complimented you
And it kissed your face
As the cold flushed it
You crafted sculptures
And fairytale stories
With you kindness
And gentleness
You stuck those faces
On our school’s walls
And I always took pictures
I wish I had kept them
They would’ve comforted me
But they’re forgotten now
In that freshly fallen snow

In the clearing
where lambs graze
our daughters also
walk at their leisure
toward school
...
there are no fences here
the shepherds allegedly
keep watch in the darkest of hours
but when steps from
an intersecting path
lunge forth as
the unsuspecting wolf
a twisted creature
upon our precious girls
these herdsmen are
certifiably blind and mute
neglectful staffs
striking the air
...
listen closely now
to the gathering winds
their transformation is actually
echoes of our own children's
eternal cries

I’m a single heartbeat
The blinking of an eye
A crash of lightning
A single drop of rain falling
Will you miss me?
Or forget me?

We may ink, or pen,
          or be vocal on the
        
                                   words,

that turn to emotions.

                Invoking our
                                fear,
                         love,
                    sight..

Beyond the view that
            we never realised
that even if our legacy is
                               momentary.

If we can move one,
                move a moment,


then we know that we have
               meant something.

       That's helped someone connect
to our emotional state when we,
                                     I wrote this
                                                         piece..

Driving by the beautiful woods,
I see them every night.
Standing tall and peaceful words at last,
its truly a poignant sight.

I think to myself,
all through the night.
what would mine say?
perhaps a few words of righteous might?

When the time comes,
need I let the world know?
or as the time flies,
do I let the world know me?

Flying like a butterfly,
Spreading your wings willfully,
Shining through your smile truthfully,
Speaking a few niceties naturally, and
Building paragraphs of legacy.
Surely, Epitaph will be no new fancy,
and written for you in permanency.
Not in a stone but in the hearts,
you touched in regular frequency.

I think to myself,
all through the night.
Why then,
should it say anything?
I suppose, its neither wrong nor right.

“I miss her! I miss her!”

I fall to the ground..as well does heavy tears

“The Hummingbird IS Gone!”

“I miss it’s visit and song”

where does one fill these empty halls

where this girl made her voice boom for so long?!

Even though it was not yesterday that the evil ones took her from the world

I became the Joker… My anarchy and laughs

Were forces ,now, to unfurl .

He reminds himself to spread her legacy through your own artistic hand

True love filled a once empty heart.

As well as music’s wedding band.

I must do my best to spread my words, her messages, from her songs

In my pages of Photos,Sketches, and Poetic Verse

As her spirit smiles, next to me, arms around my neck…

She hears my soul and heart perform in every moment

of my artistic strength that my pen or music starts to rehearse.




Dedicated to two fallen angels. Selena Quintanilla-Perez and My Sweet Christina Grimmie