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Jo Swan 1d
Mum plays a game of hide and seek!
A dangerous game of survival
Where she can not show she is weak,
Even though there’s blood on saliva.
She carries me to a safe house
to flee from an abusive spouse.

In her arms, I sense her despair
For we live in uncertainty.
Must this be the burden we bare?
Always running in urgency
to avoid mum being a battered wife.
Must this be the game of our life
When we play hide and seek!

(c) Jo Swan
dear brother,
today is just another day, like any other.
the sun warms the grass on our front lawn.
we're low on groceries, so our parents are gone.
today’s the first day that you'll put your hands ‘round my neck,
and tell me that i was what made you do it.
no one here, not around, not a single person to check,
only me to console you when you say that you rue it.
and when they return, no pain shall be found,
because you're a good boy when others abound.

dear brother, i know
that you let your hurt show
by shifting to me. no one else understands
the weight of your looks, the strength of your hands.
push me down stairs, throw me at walls,
try to decipher this confusing world
by drowning out help and starting our brawls.
i'll try not to listen to the fear that you've hurled
at me because i understand that this is a wave
lapping at the peace you so desperately crave.

dear brother, it seems that you are odd.
when others hurt others, we say they are flawed,
but you just can't help the things that you do.
i used to blame hate, but i know that's not true.
i'll never comprehend the life that you live
because i'm neurotypical. ease is all that i know.
but you are not me and have nothing to give
when society asks you to not let it show.
so fists and fury will give you your vice,
even though our joined suffering is its final price.

dear brother, we never were born to be strong,
but i've been for you through these fights all along,
because i can mend my mind when it needs healing,
but yours is too different to cope with the feeling
of lost, of love, of clothes that you wear,
and maybe it's true. maybe this is too much
for me to sacrifice but you know that my care
is all that i offer when you lose your touch
with reality. i stand to have much to lose,
but we've found out who's more likely to bruise.

dear brother, perhaps i never will be
able to say the right words and let you run free
from the memories i've grown and the nights i have lost,
because all i can think is how much it would cost
to give you some medicine, make everything gone.
you tell me you're broken and must lose this life.
i promise you this, i will wait for your dawn,
and the day will come that you no longer have strife.
because, in the end, who cares who started what
when all that matters is who's in the rut?

dear brother, i'm no saint and i'm certainly no safety.
i overthink things and am often too hasty
to judge and to jump to conclusions about you,
but at times like this, whenever i drew
those lines in the sand, trying to push you out,
were not because i don't love you or **** you for joy.
i did not understand what you were trying to shout:
that your fights and your frights were your version of troy.
you hid all the unsure under abuse and absence,
and now, forevermore, i'll break down your fence.
(our shared blue-steel eyes, our disheveled brown hair.
i will try, dearest brother, to finally be fair.)
ME 3d
The Queen in castle
Surrounded by an army
Men of styrofoam

The army floated in tears
Hovered in the sky, at her sigh
Still, they had the guts
Hit her in the eye

If The Queen is broken
So it will be her army
Men of styrofoam
Fragile and breakable
To every female blooming in a dark garden
12 more people dead today
Did it have to be this way
Heard it on the news today
It's a very sad day
Someone's just lost a loved one
Father, mother, daughter son
What could motivate someone
To shoot up everyone
What's wrong with society
What's wrong with our country
Need to change priorities
The truth we need to see
Time to say enough’s enough
Time for lies to be rebuffed
Time for us to end this stuff
If you don't like it tough
How many more dead loved ones
Til we control our guns
Written after the latest mass shootong
Ammar 6d
Mental instability
Is like being strapped to a chair
On a sinking ship.
And I've managed to cut myself loose.
She listens to the sound of the door opening
there’s anger behind his eyes
she has displeased him as she has many times before
there’s no room left for compromise

The whiskey lays heavy on his breath tonight
the belts wrapped tightly around his wrist
he grabs her by the hair
she’ll take the beating it’s best not to resist

she welcomes the feel of the hot leather because
she knows that she has to keep it together
as she begins to apologize she closes her eyes
the pain has begun to paralyze

she will never again know how
to humanize herself in her own mind
once the bruises begin to fade
unseen scars will forever be tattooed in their place

she will learn to grow inside this pain
she’ll mature someday in vain
When you said I was **** I laughed and thought you were joking.

When you said I couldn't talk to my bestfriend anymore I made up reasons and soon she wasn't a problem anymore.

When my eyes were black and blue it hurt when I walked I told everyone I was clumsy.

When I was in the hospital it was my fault and I'm the only one who can control you.

After that you were kind and gave me flowers I reminded myself why I love you.

When I stopped breathing was the only time I could leave you.
if you experience abuse or if you have a crisis. You can call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
He told me I  begged for a black eye

I had it coming

It was my Fault

Black eye, broken cheek bone

I'm trash

I volunteer at a shelter home for battered women

It's so ******* clear

Swallow me push me down  

I don't care if you can't breathe

You feel slipped on the cats *****

Lost a tooth

"How dumb can you be not to catch yourself when I push you from behind?"

I want to say I don't have eyes in the back of my head

If I did I would know you where a worthless *******
His Sweet love notes how I love thee. Sweetest guy I have ever been with.
Ron Gavalik Nov 3
After the most abhorrent violence,
during times of misery and sorrow,
a wise man will sit in a dark room
and reflect on his truths.
In rage, he will curl his fingers
into the tightest fists.
In sadness, he will weep
for all that has been lost.
In his chair, the wise man will drink
his whiskey, and then he will stand up
and fight back against the hate.

-Ron Gavalik
My city. My community. My life and my love.
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