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Maerius J Porter May 2014
Learn this:

while I am alive,

you,

hateful death,

are coming.
Fight or flight?
I'm not a bird, so fight it is.
But, I fight with words
they hurt more
they stay, like parasites,
every little
syllable repeats on a loop
until you not I give up.
Fight me I dare you,
that childish rhyme
"Sticks and stones may
break my bones but
words will never hurt me"
Total *******,
a platitude given out by
elders that know words
hurt, take longer to heal
leave mental squeals
of pain.
******, alpha, grammar
Will break you mentally
will return at close of day to
torment you.
There are no monsters under the bed
they are in your head, planted by me.
© JLB
Anger is an emotional response related to one's psychological interpretation of having been threatened.
Daylight 4U2C May 2014
People diein' on the streets.
****** puddles at our feets.

But we could be a family.
We could be a whole.
We could be together.
But no one could be cold.

If we could live on an island,
no hate,
no guns,
no war.
We'd look back and wonder,
what was it all for?

People diein' on the streets.
****** puddles at our feets.

Gangs,
tempts,
nudes,
exempts.

We sit at desk,
eating or eaten.
we laughed at or laughing.
beating or bleedin'.

We know the truth, but call it cruel.
The cruel one is we, the blind fool.

People diein' on the streets
****** puddles at our feets.

Who shot the most guns?
Who then killed them all?
Who didn't mind a casualty?
Who could be responsible?

"Not me!" we cry,
"I'm a good soul."
But even if we declined,
can I be told where they go?
No one WANTS to die. For someone to do it, there will be an opponent. A THREAT.    That's what this poem is about.

— The End —