Who controls the rain?
I'd really like to know
Because it always seems to rain
when someone has to go.

Do you believe
in miracles,
and the bright side
is the best way
to see things.

Do you believe
in magic,
and the beauty
that is,
God.

Do you believe
in darkness,
and that where there is death,
there will always
be death.

Do you believe
in light,
and that where there is life,
there will always
be life.

Do you believe
in me,
and that I will strive to be
the best I can,
and I will overcome,
my weakness.

Do you believe
in yourself,
and that you are good inside,
that where there is darkness,
there will always be
light.

I watched my friend trip
and fall and fall and fall.
Collecting countless bruises
all in the name of love.

I don't like roses.

Their meaning weighs on me too heavily.
The red screams of a passion
that is one-sided,
for I don't believe I can return
such emotions.

I don't like roses.

Maybe I'm just with the wrong person?
And that's why I feel no passion.
I struggle so much to get romantically involved
and it makes me feel broken.
They always give me those **** flowers.

I don't like roses.

I don't know what love is.
Though I know what it's like to care.
These flowers are too focused on the idea of love;
a cliche, cookie-cutter, romantic option,
that seems safe, yet it puts me in a depressive fit.

I don't like roses.

But, I really wish I did.
I really wish I did.

Many years ago,
you met the love of your life.
You didn't ever think,
that your lives would come to strife.
When you both had a child,
the tension could be cut with a knife.
But you told yourself several times,
that things would be alright.

What do you love most about your love right before you?
Are they your comfort
when everything falls apart?
What do you love most,
about the people you know?

Still many years ago,
you had a very best friend.
Together, you guys had everything
and you thought it would never end.
You said your friendship was unbreakable,
it would never bend.
When high school finally ended,
you spoke of the letters you will send.

What do you love most about the happy person before you?
Will you miss them terribly
when you both leave?
What do you love most,
about the people you know?

An empty glass is placed
on the table with a clink.
The person who was drinking
is too drunk to reach the sink.
It's been going on like this
for much longer than you think.
Do you see the color of their cheeks?
You would almost say they're pink.

What do you love most about this drunkard right before you?
Are they some sort of anchor
that you can hold on to?
What do you love most,
about the people you know?

The next morning they wake up,
and the doorbell makes a loud ding.
They yell at you to answer it,
and you're too choked up to sing.
You get your child ready,
you don't want them to feel the sting.
As you pass by the drunkard on the couch,
you decide to take off your ring.

What do you love most about their spiteful yelling before you?
Do you find it endearing
that they always pick on you?
What do you love most,
about the people you know?

A friend you haven't seen,
since they walked out the high school doors.
Has their head held high,
and they look down at you on the floor.
You say hello to them,
and their look shakes your very core.
You both were once good friends,
but do they even know you anymore?

What do you love most about the arrogant expression before you?
Are they still your happiness
even though they don't know you?
What do you love most,
about the people you know?

A little hand comes from behind you,
and it grips you so tightly.
It squeezes you for comfort,
and you smile slightly.
For your sending off your small child,
whose eyes shine brightly.
You let go of their hand,
and they danced on tiptoes, so lightly.

What do you love most about the dancing child before you?
Does it make you laugh
when they shyly hold your hand too?
What do you love most,
about the people you know?

When the long day is over,
and you and your child arrive at home.
You discover they are not there,
there's another ring sitting on a small dome.
You no longer wish to see,
where your friend and drunkard went to roam.
You're just so happy that once upon a time,
they were friends you welcomed in your zone.

What did you love most about those people no longer before you?
Were they once happy
when they were with you?
What did you love most,
about the people that you knew?

The sun shines in my eyes
it's glare is the only thing I see
and I can hear voices
I know people are around me
Yet they are telling me
to "look"
to "listen"
to "speak"

Those voices are getting very loud
they are staying inside my head
I can't tell what's the truth anymore
and I'm worried I'll end up dead
Yet they still tell me
to "look"
to "listen"
to "speak"

Language can be so tricky
and my lisp sometimes comes through
and I may mumble or
increase my anxiety by stuttering too
But they all still tell me
To "look"
to "listen"
to "speak"

Why can't they look and see
how blinding the sun can be!
Why can't they listen to voices
to try and break free from all the noises!
Why can't they speak
the truth even if it's bleak!

For once in our lives can we just live.

Feel the beat,
and tap your feet,
move with the music,
and dance away.

Don't slow down,
or you will drown,
among the large crowd,
of dancing people.

Let yourself go,
it's time for you to know,
how to be free,
with your moving feet.

Let your feet decide,
where you shall reside,
within this giant movement,
of carefree people.

This is the time,
that you move in a rhyme,
and just be yourself,
cause that's all you'll need.

It's time to dance,
it's your last chance,
to just go crazy,
and have no worries.

What happened to my heart
that I now pick every poem apart?
It all feels so manufactured,
words are a glued-together fracture.
I'll be judged at the poetic rapture,
because my heart refuses to capture
the same passion I had at the start.

Curtains are down,
waiting to rise on your cue.
But you don't want,
your life to be a view.

All you have to do,
is say "rise."
But something is preventing you,
it must be your certain demise.

The curtains never rise,
you won't let them exploit your life.
The crowd can not surmise,
the reasons for your strife.
...
and you left them awed with wonder...

*To be continued

I agree to things i'd rather not do
because i'd rather die than have to lie to you.
Yet what I do for you, I don't agree.
Why the **** can't I just be me?

I just want to be appreciated,
but it seems my value is depreciating.
With every decision I make to fall in line.
Every decision I make to just seem fine.

I play these bad decisions off like they're jokes
because if I don't then I will choke.
On the shame of it all, I can't stand tall.
I deserve the greatest of falls.

These thoughts can't linger anymore
and though it's difficult, I will endure.
The pain inside will no longer hide
and i'll get some help this time.

It's Fall now,
leaves falls down,
and everything
was starting to die.
And your eyes,
started to fill,
to the brim.
With,
water.

Don't cry.

It's Winter,
all is white,
and everything,
was dead underneath.
And your eyes,
were frozen,
wide and glazed.
With,
ice.

Don't cry.

Spring is here,
goodbye cold,
and everything,
is saying hello.
And your eyes,
are melting,
with happiness.
You're,
alive.

Don't cry.

Summer,
came again,
and everything,
was starting again.
But your eyes,
are not filled,
with happiness.
Just,
sadness.

Please,
don't cry.

Locked in the cradle of influence.
Rocked back and forth with songs not your own.
Speak their minds
all the time.

Push against the rails of innocence.
Hear your cries return to your own mouth.
Choke on it
echo it.

Poison your mind with your need to please.
Fight them and yourself to be yourself.
See the world
hear its hurt.

Crawl to the door try to open it.
It yields some, but not always enough.
"Let me out!"
let me out

"Let me out!"
let me out
"Let me out!"
let me out

let me out
.
..
...

I'm calling for you.
I'm calling for you.
But my words cannot pierce the veil,
static crackles throughout the air.

The raid was a violence
now there's radio silence,
mass graves dug for those
who no longer are there.
I turn the radio off
and sail out to sea.
The ocean neither roars or whispers
gulls glide on winds that shiver
up and down our spines.

It's so quiet.
It's so quiet.

There's nothing left to hear
except our own crying.

Our own crying.

It's snowing in May
white flurries coat the ground
before my 23rd birthday
and I'm lingering around
like Wintry disdain
a frosty mark on Spring's refrain

The tick of the clock is violent.
I don't want to exist,
but I will if I have to.

My mind is a threatening place.
It hurts me, yet keeps me safe.
How did I create such a disgrace?

The pendulum swings at me.
My heart speeds up the beat,
and it beats me too, can't you see?

With distorted perception
I can't get my feet to run.
I'm trapped in my depressed reality.

My mind won't leave me be
my voice is screaming at me
Telling me to move, but I can't breathe.

I know there's oxygen
tell that to my anxious lungs.
When they panic, my thinking is manic.

.
Mark my life on the list
.
.
of those you wish you didn't miss
.
.
With the bullet
.

It all started with a trip.
A simple act of a foot stuck out
in the middle of a busy hallway
but it leads to this boy's downfall.

His arms are full of books and papers,
they scatter as he falls.
Everything moves so slowly,
he can feel their eyes on him,
as he watches the ground come closer,
and closer.

Then he hits the ground,
his face smashing the tile
that makes up the school's floors.
Nothing breaks his fall.

He doesn't want to move.
People are laughing,
poking him,
and nudging him with their feet.
Calling him names.
But no one helps him.

How long he has been laying there,
he doesn't know.
But whoever tripped him,
has started a war against him,
and he'll be ****** if he loses.

Through his refusal to move,
he didn't see the one person watching him.
This shy kid,
so very shy.
This kid didn't know what to do.
Watching,
but never helping,
The bell rang and the kid fearfully ran to class.
Looking back at the other boy's shaking form.

But he didn't see this kid.

The boy picked himself back up,
removing himself from the cold floor,
only then realizing that he's bleeding.
Gathering up his now ****** books
and crumpled papers,
he makes his way to the nurses office
through a now empty hallway.
So he can stitch up
his first battle wound.

In his new conflict.
*...Yet he doesn't realize it's someone else's conflict too

Little boy
could you find your way out now?
If you could then,
i'll be proud.
Cause you have fallen into,
a giant empty hole.
As dark as it is,
there is light.

Little boy,
I know you are so scared.
But listen here,
there's no need.
Cause you are much stronger,
than you'll ever know.
You just need to,
trust yourself.

Little boy,
You know the way out now.
So just for you,
i'll be proud.
Cause you have climbed out of,
a giant empty hole.
When you thought there was,
no escape.

Sitting on an island
that was much too small.
It was covered in little gray pebbles,
I tried to sit tall.

The wind blew strong,
I huddled in my shawl.
I'm sorry my head ducked low,
it's just been too much this fall.

Leaves were swirling in the river before me,
and I uncurled from my ball.
The wind made waves in the water,
and I started to crawl.

The image was distorted,
I couldn't see it all.
The water keeps on rippling,
and I started to call.

Splashing at the water,
the face makes me bawl.
I look around at everything dying,
every time the leaves drop in Fall.

Ticking clocks, ticking clocks.
Why won't you stop?
I've pulled the numbers right off
yet you tick and you tock.
Like a key turned in a lock
to lock and then unlock
over and over again.

Ticking clocks, ticking clocks.
Why won't you stop?
I've ripped your hands off,
yet you tick and you tock.
I tore your heart out
and yet it still beats
over and over again.

Ticking clocks, ticking clocks.
Why won't you stop?
I put a knife through my chest
yet you tick and still tock.
Like time does not stop
even when my heart is wrought
with pain,
with pain,
with pain.

The bell rang
a hopeful tone to all the students
for it means their torture is over.
But not for the boy.
For he'll get followed,
and teased.
Horrible words flung at him
as he exits the cold halls.
He puts his head down
and keeps on moving,
ignoring the cruel jibes.
He has to ignore them,
because those words
do not define him.

He's outside now
and he falls down.
No one tripped him this time.
Everyone was laughing
surrounding him
in a cruel circle.
He felt like a circus freak,
the clown that made everyone laugh
at his own expense.
I'll do it.

"Everyone back off!
The boy heard a voice break through.
"What's you're problem!
"Leave him be!"
The crowd dispersed,
and the boy sat there quietly.
Preparing to face his new attacker.
But this kid didn't attack him.

I reached out my hand
The boy looked up slowly,
he saw the hand
outstretched toward him.
I saw him breathe deeply,
Then he reached for my hand.
There was an instant connection,
an understanding between them.
The boy looked up at the kid
his grateful smile
made the kid happy.
I'm glad I intervened

The boy was helped up,
and escorted by the kid,
out of his Hell.
I think this will work.
I think I can help him,
and he can help himself.
He just needed a hand,
to pick him up,
when he's knocked down.

I'm scared,
I might get bullied too
"You don't have to help me."
The boy whispered quietly.
I froze at those words.
He sounded so alone,
so helpless.
I was like that once.
"I do, and I will"
The kid whispered back.

It's hard to fight this all alone,
....but the start of the solution needs that helping hand.

The boy gets tripped the next day.
I watched him fall again.
The fall disorients him.
It's terrifying to see him so still.

He gets up quickly this time.
He's shaken and scared, isn't he?
The boy glares at his attackers slightly swaying.
He doesn't show his pain.

The other kids start to speak.
Oh God, why would they say that?
The boy stiffens.
I can't watch this anymore.
The boy's eyes are hurt and he never responds.
I'm going now.
I'm gone.

The boy tries to pick up his books,
but they keep escaping his grasp.
The books are being kicked,
and ripped apart.
He loved those books.
He loved his work.
But they were being destroyed,
piece by piece.

He manages to pick them up
and leave this mess.
But the words follow him,
down the halls
and into his classroom.
Everything is being destroyed,
himself included.
He sits in his seat,
in pain.

I saw him pass me in the halls,
I couldn't help it,
I followed him.
He walked into my classroom,
I didn't even know we shared this class.
I saw him sit in his seat,
I walked by him to get to my own.
I saw his eyes,
and it pained me to see,
that he is just as haunted
as I used to be

**** he's in pain
*...But it's the start of someone else's pain all over again.

You chose your next path,
and no one knows where you went.
You could only imagine the wrath,
of the minds that are crooked and bent.

You're running to a place,
that you've been once before.
The sound of water fills the space,
it's a place you truly adore.

It is that waterfall from the start,
and you sit on the ground next to it, waiting.
The way the water falls pulls at your heart,
and it keeps you from fading.
...
No need for an ending when it's only the beginning...

*The End

Beastly branches bow above me
like arms that reach wretchedly.
Desperate for the earnest earth
to become their hopeful home,
and carefully cradle them to sleep.

Twisted twigs target the gaps between
like fingers that point pathetically.
They try to force the listless leaves
to feel their sorry struggle,
and then finally fall with unease.

Terrible trunks teeter around me
like bodies done suffering stoically.
They acutely feel their laxing life.
In the way, I watch their forms fall.
Down go those troubled trees.

The distinctive crack of shifting ice
echos in fearful ears
and time seems to stand still.
A graceful dark mass nears
then stills as much as you.

Eyes follow the near invisible crack
that zig zags its danger
to shift weight would be insane.
Lock eyes with the shadow stranger
are they there to help you?

The cracking ice sound silenced
the song of warming nature
and nothing could be heard.
The shadow lacks temperature
and you've always lacked patience.

There's water pooling from warmth
walking on ice in such weather
is a poor decision at best.
A shadow weighs less than a feather
while you weigh like many rocks.

Waiting for night to freeze again
is too long of a tempestuous wait
so slide your feet and your mass.
The shadow watches you aggravate
the ice so much that it breaks.

The ice breaks more as you struggle
but you were too far out
the nature remains silent.
The shadow lingers as you shout
and even after the sounds stop.

Time passes and the silence leaves
nature's voices echo contagiously
the lingering shadow hovers.
It reaches for the water shamelessly
pulling at the tragedy so patiently.

And out it pulls a shadow
of who you used to be.
Both float away from the ice
and dissipate in the trees.

The heathens of this season
bind me to metallic reasons.
The traction should be nonexistent
and yet i'm frozen in an instant.
I fear i'll remain here,
for longer than a year.
Frozen to the metal
of my winter struggle.

If society didn't judge,
me.
I wouldn't judge,
society.
So don't place the blame on,
me.
When the only one to blame is,
society.

My throat swells with emotion,
cutting off my vocal chords.
Like my body has decided to slam the door.
I surrender to my voice's remotion.
I lay down my loquacious swords,
and take a respite from speaking any more.