Nobody talks
of love
thrown into a gutter.*

There is no glory in leaves
rotted to mulch,
turned with dirt.
They drain
and clog.

One look begins our pain,
one sweep ends their suffering.

We attend
at all times
a need to strive
and tend our strife.
To clear the heap,
we burn,

return to ourselves in a corridor of light,
and make do with the bareness of our hands.

The mind follows,
the will carries.
We reach

and let go.
Our smoke
glides the current,

for dreams do not die,
only granted
to the passing-by.

Have you ever wanted to speak out,
And tell your view,
To let someone hear,
To let someone though,
The cracks in your shell,
Let the light come in,
To let them understand,
What you are feeling within,
To finally let out a breath,
For your secret's out,
Because now someone will understand,
Someone knows what you are about,
They know your desires,
Your Feelings, Your thoughts,
What you want to become,
Why people know you nought.
But if you tell the wrong person,
Your life might become hell,
For some people don't have empathy,
Or guilt as well.
They might tattletale your secrets,
Betray your trust,
Tease you day by day,
Eventhough it is unjust.
Just tell the right people,
Or none at all,
Which is why humans could be better,
To help people who call.

Free the heart of prejudice
Unleash the mind from impaling thoughts
River of life, poisoned with lethal ideas
Do not bleed unto death
A stoic existence, between the dark alleys
Life will never be the same
Give freedom a chance, breathe the exuberance