The way she looks at her reflection.
A feedback of shimmer around the corner.
She is undeniably beautiful.
But she is torn from her own thoughts.
She is not well-made as a structure.
She is afraid to be shattered into pieces.
Crying deep inside with unsaid feelings.
A little worry she thought it will eventually disappear.
They say, “make mistakes, perfection is a fiction”
Her smile is a facade of happiness.
And just being tired surrounded by unreal elements.
She has to leave without hesitation.
She’s waiting for a just reason.
Honestly, she doesn’t have to create her own argument.
A release from a deep sigh.
She wants to see her real smile.
A smile that touches her soul.
A smile without hidden agenda.
A smile that will keep her through until the dark night.
She is currently on her lowest degree.
And figuring out where to flee.
But don’t worry she will continue to be brave.
Negativity becomes rampant she will never be a slave.
She will carry herself with an assumption that her smile is a lethal weapon.

I used to be a Glock 40,
my aim impeccable.
I made the decision,
I pulled the trigger,
I hit my target.
Lately, I've been a musket shot;
unpredictable,
and somehow even more dangerous than usual.
I miss the center and wind up somewhere in the corner of the paper.
Dust flies from the shrapnel
where I used to have a single trail of smoke indicating the bullet, crumpled but whole,
placing a hole where I wanted it to,
and one unbroken shell, slightly charred,
dropping near my feet.
But here I am watching people take cover
as my pieces go flying, destroyed by my own chaos,
tearing anything and everything apart in its path.
I used to be deadly but precise.
Now I'm not sure what I am.
I'm certainly causing damage,
but more to myself than anyone else...
I confuse and startle people more than strike fear in them,
and that's insufficient...
I want to be better,
but I keep going off without warning,
and people avoid me to avoid getting hit,
but they're not scared,
they're simply learning,
and I don't know how I feel about that,
maybe I'm not a gun anymore,
maybe I'm the target,
I certainly feel like a piece of paper,
flimsy and vulnerable against the onslaught of lead,
blown to bits and drifting off in the cloud of dust...
maybe I don't want to be a gun anymore.
I certainly don't want to be a target.
Maybe I don't want to be a pistol
or a musket
or a bow or a knife or a clenched fist,
maybe I want to be a person.

I gave him a weapon
A weapon called trust
He holds for the first time a weapon
Will he shoot me or protect us from our enemies?
I will not know it yet...
But I know
That one day he will pull the trigger.

Love unites two warm hearts
But love can do more than just that
It can shoot a heart and
Make someone´s heart to bleed.

i was young...
      well, younger than now----
   it was when it first struck me
it struck me hard.
          it struck me like reality...
       but more like
         reality when reality comes
    in the face of your
             family
        all in chains...
     then, reality looks like dreams altogether;
            no not fantasy----
              not exactly a nightmare either
                         more like
                  ----ecstasy-----
      "you are a special weapon"
           "something of great potential"
        "and massive power"
              "but you only have one shot"
          mom always used to say.
                   i even once thought
                       she stashed some kind of
           deathray or sting ray or something
           in my arm----
    ----it won't be the first thing
                 she stuffed in me anyway...
              i was eight years old when she
                     finally continued the sentence.
           before total silence.
                  "make it count."
       "cause whether you hit"
         "or even if you miss..."
           "you would be broken"
            "shattered-----"
            "torn to pieces-----"
            "torn apart."
                                 "so please"
                               "don't"
                        "break"
                         ­   "yourself"
                                "shooting"
        ­                            "for"
                      "nothing.­"
                  she never taught me
                  how to use
                  the weapon
                  myself-----
       she just fragmented
           in tears before splintering
                  tearing to shards herself
         it took me til 15
               that i was afraid
                      to yet touch
     even stare
               even think
        nothing.
                  i never knew
           what i was capable of
                      i never knew how
              to control
       to even activate
                 all i knew was that
i was powerful
i don't know what of
but i have to save it
           keep it         live it      nurture it
       store it               amass it                  seep it
             savor it                understand it
    study it            feel it
             polish it                         train it                      
              let it breathe
   let it sing
               i could hear it sing
    i could feel it whisper-----
          and i was so afraid...
                    all i saw of my mother was
      that she was in pieces
             long before i knew her.
                 shambles
                 and
                 shackles
         and i don't want to be that when i fire----
it wasn't supposed to strike me
      but it did, and it struck me hard
   reality
           i was 16 when i
       first made the discovery
                 ----love-----
          all at once
                and much, much too completely----       all off guard.
         it was like
                    you suddenly turned
                a blinding light
      on something that had always been
                 half a shadow
        that's how it struck me...
            that's how it shattered me...
    it's like a full flashback
           of my mother saying
      'i told you so'
                  except she never did.
               and it struck me.
      like i hit the right target at the wrong time
      or the opposite of it
          but truth is
             i just hit
      a poltergeist
           way too soon
                 and it wasn't like
        it was the wind that was hit----
    that's how it struck me,
              love
          and that's how it tore me apart.
                 ----fragmented----
and it did not take me long
to realise what glass cannons we were...
          all my life
      i never tried to
         activate my strength
and when i did
              it imploded.
                               it was a long time...
and i was blinded----
         it wasn't the hit
             nor was it the miss
that tore me apart
                        it was love that broke me
     because shattered pieces
                    are not
                all that bad
                            splinters...
                   shards...
                       fragments...
                                    blades...
      ­       one shot was all it took
        to break my heart
                    and so suddenly...
                    every part of me...
                              was a weapon
                         everyone who held me
                                 hurt
                                 bled
                              cried
                        ­    pained
                        burned
                    wai­led
               enraged
      agonized
                   they turned to anger
          then turned to hate
                            they turned to each other
                                 pretty soon turning to waste
          it was then that it struck me
               what a glass cannon is----
and it was until now that i was eluded...
                        for that long a time
       i thought shards were
       all love could offer...
       fragments were
       all romance could be
                     i met
            your father
            your father
            your father
            your father
    and your father
    all through different shards
                      until i saw what i had
                 all in shambles
                 and
                 all in shackles
     just like my mother
             that's when it struck me
        ---ecstasy---
                       cause looking into your eyes
              my children
                     i love you
         as a whole
                  not like with your fathers
            or like with the guys before them
        or like the guys before the other guys
                         i wanted more than ever
                    to love you
                more than
                      a few shards
                  all tainted
              with blood
          or with anger
                  or with both----
                  that's when it hit me
           and it hit me with so much pain...
           what my mother really should have said.
being a glass cannon
     doesn't mean being
          a weapon to hurt others-----
                    it means one day,
              no one knows when,
       but it will surely come
          like a thief in the night...
                 love
  and you will give your all
  even if it shatters you to pieces
               and even if you are already in pieces
       because you know love
       can make you again whole.

the United Nations
ever and again call to raise billions
to help countries devastated by war
or other mostly man-made catastrophes

I suggest we operate by the causality principle:

the countries who sell all those arms
    and military support to the warring parties
    or leave the natives no land to grow their own food
simply use the money gained from their sales and appropriations
to help the refugees they created
    build up all the cities their weapons destroyed
    provide a living for the farmers whose lands
         have been sold to agrobusinesses
    pay for the education of all the children
         unable to have schooling
    reconstruct the societies their greedy actions destroyed

sounds like a fair proposal

doesn‘t it??