The days are harder
When it’s bright outside
And the time has changed
You fake a smile
But you’re feeling the same

The days are harder
When you know you haven’t slept
And you open your eyes
Same eyes that have wept
Done with compromise

The days are harder
When you realize that it’s real
That pain means you can’t imagine the past,
Live a make-believe all at the same time and heal
But you tell yourself: “Today is gonna be the last”

And you wish it gets better
Or whatever comes before second best
Because if the days are harder
Then the nights must be the hardest

Instead of being activated
by what you hated
you got isolated,
so you wouldn't be triggered.

There were photos of
human agony on foreign streets,
bombed out buildings,
bleeding children,
and parents weeping.

Instead of getting outraged
by what you saw,
you went to your safe space,
so you wouldn't have to face
any troubling thoughts at all.

People softened the discourse,
slightly dulling the edge of the sword
they use to cut the safety cord
we call human rights.

The bad things kept happening
while you were napping comfortably.

You should have been
an exposed wire
sparking an arc of heart fires.
Instead of highlighting
that which was frightening
you went into hiding.

While those who were fighting
didn't get the option
to ignore the horror.

Busted up and ******,
tear gassed buddies bruised
while you used that excuse
of not wanting to deal with bad news
cause you might get triggered.

The world is on fire so,
melt that snowflake heart sister
and brother
we've got no time to waste
in helping each other;

Look and see these tragedies
and get motivated;
Rise up in outrage,
get ******* triggered,
and get to work son.

Cause anger gets **** done!!

Meet me among the numbing fields
where the cream narcissus grows.

Where my desperate human voice sings
against the flow of the autumn winds.

Do you hear the pillars of my empathy crumbling?

The wicked Imbolc has passed,
leaving me naked and sick in the light
of longer days.

Yellow-trumpeted blooms of each joss flower
are caught swaying to the emptying sounds
of my apathy.

Where I have been patiently waiting for
the flowering blood of hyacinth.

when we first came to this land,
blood was shed for our entitlement.
when we first came to this land,
we took the things that were never ours
and trampled its native growth.
when we first came to this land,
we instilled in it a sickness that may never be cured;
we tarnished sacred lands with greed we call virtue,
and when we did so, we stood on the throat of humanity.

there are some people who are doomed to repeat history.
there are some people who will trample native growth,
spread sickness,
and stand on the throats of our people.
with the heavy weight of six centuries upon our shoulders
we stand,
a hobbled nation no longer able to stride,
heads held high,
through this sea of blood without meeting challenge.

with six centuries passed, we commit genocide anew.
it is not the native growth that suffers,
but the very peddlers of greed who are infected
by the sickness of consequence.
but they alone will not suffer.
as we march through this new iteration of history
wearing death masks instead of cloth,
thousands of innocents lose their lives
in a battle of which they were never a part.

the single day that we dedicate to gratitude,
the one day of the year some remember
to give thanks in between passing heavy dishes,
is not a commemoration of discovery.
it is a commemoration of consequence and greed.
and six centuries later,
it is our own people who we will massacre with the cry of freedom.

I won’t forget the way your eyes look down upon me
The condescension in your voice
The laughs
I won’t forget the dismissal of my pain
My grief
As the horrors of my inadequacy confine me
Hurt me terribly so
But maybe you like my pain
My fright
I want to prove you wrong
That my life is as worthy as yours
But my throat closes around me
It lists me in
Turns me inside out
Exposes my innards and true dark horrors
That of which I’m nothing
Nothing
Nothing worth more
Your very existence continues to triumph mine
While my own breath wastes away
I want you to hurt
As badly as I do
But I cannot hurt you
You’re too much for me to handle
You eat me away at every core
I hate you
I hate you
Why am I not enough
Why was I cursed in this feeble body
My self pity does me no good
While yours gives you an army
Don’t look at me
I know how little you think of me
I want to cut my throat and bash my arms
Bleed all over you
Give you all of my struggles
Be free of my deference

My mourning heart
tries to speak
comprehensible words,
But it cannot overcome
its studders and slurs
For pain and grief
intertwine
as one creation
Bursting forth - tears initiation

I take full account of my past -
A great loss
As I depreratly hang
To my hope -
In the Cross

I sit, fruitlessly,
Searching for words
to reciprocate
My pain
As I slip and stutter
And mumble in vein
This vortex of sorrow
I can hardly contain

I have to lay it all down at the feet of God
TAKE MY LIFE!
I've lost it all LORD -
EVEN MY MOTHER AND WIFE!
Take the reigns LORD -
AND CARRY MY STRIFE!

I cannot carry it any longer -
I've carried it too far
LORD you are my lighthouse -
My northern star!
You have created my heart -
Loves repertoire
Now I surrender to you LORD -
And all that you are!

LORD, please,
Carry this burden,
This heavy heart
Once and for all, LORD
Let misery depart
And never, ever again
Let us be torn apart!