The tales of a man once loved,
He who resorted to misstreating others.
Turned vial, turned dark.
He tore through hearts as if they were a craved meal.
Pulling and shredding souls with words so unforgivable to young minds.
Pushing them towards suicide he felt at ease.
A bully of minds with a cowardly heart.
They will remember him
They won't forgive him
Someday when he passes there will be no audience to his demise,
There will be no tolerance for he who is certain he is above all else.
He is a bully of the worst kind.
One who bullied a young girls mind.

-Kathia Mariana Landeros

The ocean is a tough judge,
granting no one a pardon
for the things they have done.
Sympathy is limited, and
floats on the surface of the waves.
Once you duck underneath,
you're on your own.

I take a glimpse,
at the future of the States,
Trump will destroy them.

I see Donald Trump,
Suddenly very proud to be
In my Canada.

Please excuse me for my days of doubt
On these days I have to write it out

Otherwise these feelings stay inside
Get down in my soul and hide

Then eat away all my will
In this these feelings are very skilled

The foster thoughts of death and release
They are definitely a cunning thief

But when I write on these days, it's not for sympathy
It's just to get out all the intensity

So what's it like to be you?
As I stand here in the rain
The only question in my head
That slices through the pain

The image in my head is of
A girl I know at school
Talked to her about my life today
She seemed pretty cool

Listened to her talk about her own life
And we were pretty similar
Her father is in the defence force too
And that was the common topic, in particular

How often our fathers were gone,
Might I intervene and say my dad retired
Twenty years or so in the Army
Of which he grew sick and tired

But she also mentioned sickness
And how some family had cancer
I felt sorry for her, she's much worse off
I didn't try to understand her

Instead I gave my sympathies
And my apologies

So what's it like to be you?
I think to myself in the rain
I know your story but don't understand
How you dealt with all the pain

I have a friend, his name is Death
We like to play, though we never hold hands
We like to sing and run in the fields,
and sometimes he touches a bird.
Sometimes he touches a cow
Sometimes he touches a man
Sometimes he touches a mother

I have friend, his name is Death
We tell each other secrets
We know each other’s feelings
He doesn’t like what he was born to do, he says
And I long to give him a hug as he weeps
But I cannot touch him, you see
Not because death would take me
But because Death would take me

I am not afraid of Death
Or the Afterlife I've glimpsed in my mind
I am not afraid of Death
Or the sound sleep he often describes
I am not afraid of Death

No

I am afraid for Death
I have seen the pain as he took another
I have seen the regret as he touched a mother
I have heard his cry that he would rather
That he would never

I am afraid for Death
Because he must live with himself
Because he must live by himself
Because he must give all that he wants

And I would never that he was forced to give it to me

I came down to make brunch,
Early on
In the afternoon.
I cracked the eggs
And lit the stove,
My dog limped up beside me.
A three legged beast of
Enormous size
Humbled by
The lack of limbs.
I fried the bacon,
But threw no scraps,
Though I was her support.

There is an emotional graveyard in my back yard
It's for all the feelings that die, and I discard

Innocence was the first to fall
But isn't it always that one for us all

Happiness fallowed soon after that
Because my life quickly turned to crap

Trust was the next to bite the dust
For self preservation it was a must

Ignorance was the very next one
I swiftly learned life's lessons
Under the gun

Love has entered and been dug up from the ground
But each time I bury it a little father down

Sympathy can also out there be found
It's right over there it's the biggest mound

Desire and all the stuff I crave
Is right here in this shallow grave

Lust that I mistook for love one to many times
Deep is it's hole it was such a vicious crime

Joy also has it's place among the markers
It couldn't be saved by the therapist or doctors

Anger was the last that went underground
I just couldn't take any more of it's horrific sound

You'll notice pain, agony, and strife
Very much still have lots of life
So also is fear and my darkness
I have placed their markers after all I'm heartless

And that last little plot way over there
Under the Weeping Willow dug with such care
It's stone only has dates and dashes
That's for my shell when it finally crashes
For it will be hollow void of all emotion
To lie in that grave will be such a promotion