#bystander
Your arms
ripping at the seams,
as your pain pours into
ordered lines.
Red warning tape.
I say nothing
as each night
you add another tally
to your rising score.
I don't want to make you uncomfortable.
Silent acknowledgement
hides in the gaps between glances
as you ask me
if the short sleeves are okay.
I tell you no one will notice,
that no one will care,
as my heart rises
to the back of my throat
and your arms
blur into a wet red.
We tread together but I
can't hold your hand.
Should I say something?
Should I ask up front?
Should I look at your eyes
and confront it?
Or is that a betrayal of the
comfort in my silence.
The silence of support or
a bystander's shame?
Is it all the same?
Reaching out, a lifeline,
a baseline of decency.
You underscore every emotion
in vermillion, powered by
something only you
can deal with. When you lean on me
to root you in place I can't move.
I am helpless against you.
I hold tissues to your
fissures and figure out the best
of the worst, and test the boundaries
of where it hurts.
Mar 9, 2025
Mar 9, 2025 at 10:06 PM UTC
Just act like you never knew
Sleep to the sounds of hurt at night
And in wake have not a clue
Wear that bright smile
Like you always do
Keeping it in is most important
As long as it doesn't affect you.
Feb 23, 2025
Feb 23, 2025 at 9:02 PM UTC
Trending upload:
saturized,
desensitized
Caught in the inner workings,
those ducks in a pond
The sound of clicks in rapid
s-t-a-c-c-a-t-o
Don't run or fall, but film
Send us transmission
A moment in a fish bowl,
looking out at life on a screen
It didn't come bundled
with the phone
The gulf of dissonance
started long before
Jun 16, 2023
Jun 16, 2023 at 2:02 PM UTC
Wind howling in my ears,
Sand slicing, biting, through my skin,
The faces plaguing my dreams of fear.
Their mouths all in a maniacal grin.
Pain flashing; arm burning;
Tumbling through the air.
An arm falling in my lap,
It's not mine but his.
My friend.
My driver.
The back I promised to watch.
The family man I know him to be.
No dont look at me that way!
Stop... please...
It's not my fault I survived.
It's not my fault you died.
No dont leave... please...
You're all I have left,
You're my last memory of him.
Stay... please...
The cracking of barrels,
Whizzing of bullets,
I'm sorry I have to go.
My other brothers need me.
You're eyes are already dead,
You're blood has run cold.
But they aren't gone yet,
Their blood is still warm.
A shot runs through my shoulder,
Strange voices coming from everywhere,
One saying to get back,
Another saying it's happening again...
What's happening?
What do you mean again?
Head hurting, splitting, painful.
Everything around me is fading...
No dont leave... please...
This is all I have left of them...
My friends who fell,
My brothers by creed not blood.
White lights, white clothe.
Strange voices speaking strange words.
A man in blue and white,
Red spatters of blood on his shirt.
It makes sense,
For now I see,
I was rescued.
One out of four.
I'm alive...
I survived...
It should've been them.
Why couldn't it have been them.
Apr 23, 2020
Apr 23, 2020 at 12:11 AM UTC
You're so quiet now
But they say silence is golden,
So I'll just leave you alone.
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 10:01 AM UTC
Sometimes,
I just fake it
Cause
It’s easier
Yes,
The test was hard
Even though,
I got a 98%
Yes,
He has a bad personality
Even though,
He’s been nothing less
Than polite
To me
Yes,
She’s so amazing at it
Even though,
I’m not too far behind
Yes,
Their relationship is going to fail
Even though,
I think it’s rude
To gossip
Behind their
Backs
These things...
And more,
It doesn’t
Change
Anything
Even if I explain
Will people even listen?
Care?
So...
I let it be
It’s Easier
I mean,
Not when it directly hurts
Others
I do have a bottom line
But otherwise...
With shades of gray
Difficult,
To differentiate
Between
Right
Wrong
Good
Bad
...
I guess...
I’ll let it be
After all,
It’s
Easier?
Nov 22, 2018
Nov 22, 2018 at 7:20 PM UTC
She handpicked the hearts as fruit
And never said whom she would choose
But torn they were from their vines
Oblivious to their use
In making finest timeless wine
And only history would know
This taste that would endure the flow
Of time, of memory, and mortal minds,
One destiny, herself, designed
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 4:16 AM UTC
Silence locks you in a room full of darkness,
blinding you from the nightmare outside.
It pulls the trigger on the gun,
while vowing it’s okay because you didn’t load it.
It watches as the world burns around the unfortunate
while claiming you didn’t strike the match.
It is too late in the evening to continue to stay
in the shackles of this silence.
The sun is setting, and you can no longer
ignore the irreversible night that threatens
to drown us in its pressing darkness.
We must allow ourselves to shatter its silence.
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
There's a boy being beaten
By with nails and weapons
For no reason
He was only a little different
He was innocent
Yet what do people do about it?
Do they run to help and see what's wrong?
THEY HIDE!
THEY HIDE BEHIND TVS
THEY HIDE BEHIND RADIOS
THEY HIDE BEHIND CAMERAS
VIDEO TAPES AND PHONES
THEU JUST HIDE
AND DONT DO A THING
What about that girl in the video?
Telling stories on paper
With a marker as her voice
Her eyes of sadness
Hidden behind the frame
As she cries
And begs for help
She's dead now
Becuase no one told her
Things would be ok
No one stopped the torment
The embarrassment
The shame
Are you embarrassed now?
Good thing it reminds me of death
Because six million died
BUT NO ONE DID A THING
THEY COULD BE LIVING
THEY COULD BE HAPPY
BUT WE ALL HID
BEHIND RADIOS
AND NEWSPAPERS
AND NOBODY DARED
TO TAKE A STAND
AGAINST THE BULLY
THE MONSTER
THE MURDERER WHO DID THIS
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC
Why do you call them ugly
Why do you put them down
Why does nobody help
Why does no one make a sound
Why do you think you can judge them
Why do you sneer at them in the hall
Why do you treat them so cruelly
When you don't know them at all
Why do you spread rumors
When you know they are not true
Why don't you ever think about
How you would hate it if it were you
Why are you too ignorant
To care how you make them feel
Why are you a heartless thief
Why is it their happiness you steal
Why must you behave this way
You strike others down to build yourself up
Why can't you find other outlets
Why does sadism fill your cup
Why must you take your pain out on others
Why must you hurt people to feel good
Why don't you turn the other cheek
If you opened your eyes you could
Why can't you see their epitaph
And know you'll have no one but yourself to blame
Why don't you realize your wrongdoing
Before it is too late
Why do you think you're untouchable
You don't predict reprisal from those you are nasty toward
I really hope you change your ways
For being a bully will have its just rewards
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 8:14 PM UTC
Here in this little tale
That I am going tell
Is a simple scenario with three main roles
Starring
A bully, a victim and a bystander
The victim is walking down the hall
And thinking about his life
He lost his father in the lake of sorrow
While his mother fell off it's bridge
The bully is being abused
Which is giving him an excuse
To roam the halls like a prison warden
Or a ghost in a haunted home
The bully sees the victim
They catch each other's eye
An evil glare comes out of the bully's eye
The victim tries to escape
Yet he's caught before he can
And now blood is dripping down
upon the hallway floors
The victim is screaming ****** ******
And begging for mercy
The bully laughs and hits him harder
No remorse or regret
What's the role of the bystander?
Does he run for help?
Does he call out for a teacher?
Does he run and save the victim?
Does he do a thing?
The sad answer is no
He only stands there and stares
More heartless than a body
Made of solid stone
Will you be the victim's hero?
Will you help him out?
Will you join the bully's side?
Will you beat him up?
Will you be a bystander
and not do a thing?
It's up to you
You decide
Who are you going to be?
The hero, the bystander or the bully.
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 3:59 AM UTC
There are still lessons to be learned.
His love tightens around her throat,
While his words take stabs to her heart.
Unconditional love makes up for her pain.
She's forgiving.
He's sick.
And I can't take it anymore.
I'm unfamiliar with the art of protecting and defending.
I, too, choke on my words.
As actions speak louder,
She will cry again.
I will give pass her a knowing look.
They will speak redundancy.
How much more can she take?
No more scoffs and oh's
She's the source of my stubbornness.
She's the only beginning I know.
She'll curse me to the pits for thinking like this,
Death can't come any quicker,
To this ugly fat f*cker.
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 3:30 PM UTC
Sometimes
I see a picture.
A picture of a woman
in a kitchen.
Her hair is tied back. But sometimes
it’s not.
Sometimes she winks at me.
A knowing
smile and twitch
of an eyelid.
Sometimes.
Sometimes she’s angry.
Drenched
in the sweat of steamed
broccoli and cauliflower.
Sometimes.
Sometimes she’s cleaning.
Scrubbing her kitchen
spotless. Red tomato
sauce and broken
glasses.
Sometimes.
Sometimes she wilts.
Beside the petunias.
Black
and purple.
Blue
and pink.
Sometimes.
Sometimes she’s spilling.
Water flooding
over the counter
top and stuck
to the clotted drain.
Sometimes.
Sometimes she sees me. Usually
not. Sometimes she smiles. Usually
not. Sometimes I help her. Usually
not: sometimes.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 8:41 AM UTC
Where marinated in our murky past
have we found justification for the travesties we do,
build prisons where our prejudice lasts,
and allow its prisoners to fester as they stew
I have felt this heat.
The flame which boils in the toils of others,
whose oils lick embers into wildfire.
And we fall back into the Dark Ages.
where minds who place burden on those with different skin
slink flicking flint to fire, raising from the earth
the walls we have spent decades taking apart one brick at a time.
one brick at a time,
comment by comment,
each passing moment
condone it.
ignore it.
passivity pays the builders of this monument.
who see no wrecking ***** to stop them.
passivity, fills the pockets of the petty
coin by coin collecting courage to speak
outwardly outrageous
slurred hate speech contagious
barbary amounts its fortress from our silence,
one brick at a time.
I have seen the origins of intolerance,
holding together the cinder blocks of utterance
all the moments we should have said something and didn't.
In my selfish silence I see senselessness slip past my snares.
In my hush I hear hate harrow the ventricles of hearts much weaker
than the speaker.
Loathing left untended like
loose mountain snow
will like an avalanche gain strength
in movement.
To you,
the architects of abhorrence
the creators of execration
I plead: lay down your urban dictionaries.
Know that you lay a foundation
whose structure will build up,
but whose existence will tear down.
To you,
those who watch the construction
and stare in silence sufferance,
know that although no sweat has fallen,
and no aid has been laid by your hand,
That this malicious monument is as much yours
as it is theirs, through your willingness to watch it go up
one brick at a time.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC
You cannot hide,
It will find you.
It is not meant to be camouflaged,
Rather avoided by those who claim
They are innocent.
It is not what you have done or
What you will do;
It is what you failed to prevent.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
Their eyes wandered,
Crowding the scene
But I averted
My own
To lend privacy
To the disaster.
Tears ran down her face
And cries were heard
And she muffled them
But the man said curtly,
Keep him crying,
It means he's alive.
What had happened
In an instant
Drew out,
As they stared
And I turned away
Thinking I was helping,
My eyes hardly probing
Like theirs.
But in the end,
I'm not the one
Who uttered reassurances
Or found the doctor.
They did.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
These people, whom I know as much as I know me,
As I fill my days with their shiny lives and parades,
But they're not mine,...
Some picture-perfect lies...
There lies mine,...
trampled,
abandoned,
begging to be remembered,
begging to be cared ...
I don't know me,
I don't know my story...
And as I bask in their glory,
The one grasping for help is me,
As I follow them away...
As I walk away from me,
Only with what makes them h a p p y ...
Because it was easy,...
Too easy....
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
As I never cared for shiny objects.
until I felt I lost mine,
Illumination,
What feels like in a sudden,
There are so many from them,
Those people,
covered in gold and diamonds,
shining away from their high pedestals,
Stunning, ... captivating,...
I sat there in silence,
admiring from afar,
and once in a while when they come down from their higher ground,
I follow them around, --
I follow them around, ...
My existence is a wish of theirs,
wispy and feeble,...
...
There is a beggar on the ground,
begging for a second chance,
trampled and forgotten,
I don't know her,
I don't know her story,
As much as I know these sparkles,
they can't be the same kind...
Boring and uninteresting,...
So I scold at her,
ignored her,
as mine and me alone gasp for my care,...
Too easy...
Because it was too easy...
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC