Coming home,
to see blank eyes,
on a young face,
is an even greater pain,
than seeing lifeless ones,
because,
blank eyes means
that he's just not living,
there is no joy,
and no hope,
that should be filling his young
soul,
there is only fear,
blind, panicky, fear.
A type of fear no child should ever
feel.

He fear's
where he came from,
every time we get him,
he's covered in scars,
and bruises,
and we can hardly do anything about it.
His eyes are so wide,
and afraid,
if I go to touch his unhealthy face,
i'm not going to hit him,
but he flinches,
like I will,
and it's horrible to watch,
it's heart breaking,
I can't stand to see this child,
hurt.

I've had nightmares of what happens,
to him,
and what's hard to stomach,
is that those nightmares,
are true.
This child,
not even a child,
this baby,
is beaten to the point,
where he is afraid,
of everyone,
and his eyes,
I can't look at them,
the fear kept there,
stabs at,
me.

The knife rips through my body,
over and over again,
and all I think,
is what that child goes through,
that he's tortured,
every day,
for just being there.
But he's not the only child in this scenario,
there's a little girl,
who just turned four.
She's never been to school,
and you ask her a question,
she just stares at you,
not understanding what you said.
She doesn't know,
how to do,
anything.

My family and I,
had to teach her,
how to put a shirt on,
when she was three.
She was three,
and couldn't dress herself.
What ever these kids go through,
every single day,
all I can deduce is,
one is tortured,
mercilessly hit in the face
till his mouth bleeds.
And the other,
can do what ever she wants,
but isn't taught anything,
and she'll be set back,
so far.

She'll never rise to the full potential,
of what she could be.
God knows were trying,
to do everything we can,
to help these kids.
There used to be three
in this situation,
and we were able to save,
one.
It's possible,
but it's so hard,
and I don't know,
if we can ever save
these other kids,
before it is,
too late.

I stand here,
on the eve of a battle,
on a large mountain,
overlooking the valley.
Tomorrow,
I will be leading the charge,
taking people into battle,
my friends into battle,
do I have the right,
to drag souls,
into a lost cause.
Is this battle lost,
before it even starts,
and who already lost?

I don't know if we can win,
we may all die tomorrow,
but if we can make a dent,
a little change,
then could that be
a stepping stone to
something greater,
and will we ever see it?
Will we ever see,
all our hard work pay off?
Or will we never know,
because we died,
in this historical battle.

The sun is now setting,
bathing the valley in red,
and I know
it will be a bloodbath,
and it will take courage
and persistence,
to even attempt to fight,
but until then,
I must watch
the sun set,
with its ****** aura,
and ominous presence,
with a heavy feeling,
deep in the depths of my
stomach,
I stand here,
alone,
ready to fight,
to our obvious end.

I thought of flowers today when I heard your name
and wondered if I should pick one so you remain
in my head for longer than a beat
of a hummingbird's wings in summer's heat
but I can't allow for the great leap
of my heart to my head
I think I'll go back to bed.

It's just some words,
hurtful words.
That peel away your outer shell
And latch onto your nerves.
Staying there,
reminding you
what was said.

It's just some boy,
a hurt boy.
Whose shell was picked away
by those words said to him.
That stay there,
like a leech,
never letting go.

Its just some stones,
old stones.
But do you see the new one
Placed right in line with the others?
He stays there,
he's not coming back,
you know.

It's just some words,
you said.
But you can't take them back
you can't tell the boy you're sorry.
Cause he's gone.
He's not coming back.
All because of you.

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

It's time for spring to come,
I have had enough
Of the snow and cold winter nights,
yes they're beautiful,
And everything shines like crystals in the winter,
But I want spring.
I was born in the month of May,
The heart of spring to me,
And I feel this tug of anticipation,
As spring comes slowly.
March is always in like a lion,
And out like a lamb,
Well that lamb better come soon,
Because I want spring to come,
And make everything new.

Every step is painful.
in this unbearable situation.
I am walking on thorns,
countless large, sharp thorns,
that twist down into a long, dark path,
that has no end,
and it just keeps twisting away,
into an aching misery.

I'm choking back my tears,
no more crying
Not in front of so many lives,
many small, young lives.
Their fearful eyes are following me,
as I walk on thorns,
my blood flowing freely from my feet,
like the life that flows out of their eyes.

I want the thorns to disappear,
off this long twisting path.
I want this path to have a beautiful end,
not the dark one I am seeing.
I want those eyes to stop being scared,
The children should be allowed to be children,
not empty, fearful shells of their former selves.
I want this all to end,
is that too much to ask for?

I wanted to write a poem.
About something very important.
Something that should have never happened.
Something that we can't just ignore.
But for a solid hour I couldn't remember,
what I was writing for.

Was it for the people we lost that day?
The people who lost someone?
The pride we once felt,
gone as a nation crumbled,
our unity was threatened,
and our fear was amplified.

How can I even be breathing right now?
I expect the tears to fall.
I feel them,
but they just won't come out.
All I see when I close my eyes,
are images of that day.

I was to young to remember it clearly,
but I saw enough pictures,
too many pictures.
The day we realized we weren't invincible,
was the day the Twin Towers fell.
That day is today.
That day was Hell.

I just wanted to write a poem,
one that would't be inflicted
with sadness and with rage.
Maybe it will be one about love,
maybe I can make that change?

This one will have a happy ending,
everything I write is too bitter sweet.
But I knew what day today was,
and I decided to write while knowing
what this day will do to me.

I walked into school this morning
and I looked around.
I spoke to people before class started.
Not one of them mentioned this day,
most of them didn't even know what day it was.
That saddens me,
and angers me.

These are the same people
who will say they care,
but never actually do anything in person.
I cried last night,
I cried today.
I said the Pledge of Allegiance
with so much conviction.
The rest of my class didn't say it at all.
They never do.

It's disrespectful
to forget what day today is.
As if people don't have the time
to take just a moment,
one moment out of their day,
and remember.

I wanted to write a poem,
something that was happy.
But today is not a happy day.
The only comfort I have in today,
is that the towers are back,
our pride is back,
our nation is back,
our hope is back.

Let's just hope that everyone's memory comes back too,
because this day does not deserve
to be forgotten,
so carelessly.


I just wanted to write this poem,
for all who remember,
that today is,
September 11.
Better known as,
9/11.

J'ai vu Notre Dame brûler
comme si elle était une sorcière
sur un bûcher,
comme si elle était des balles
perçant le peau,
comme si elle était les mots de bigoterie
coulant de la bouche des monstres
J'ai vu Notre Dame brûler
et nos coeurs aussi

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.

I'm running out of time,
i'm late, i'm late.
How will I ever,
fix this mess I created,
how much longer,
do I have
until my time is up.

I'm moving so slowly,
i'm scared, i'm scared.
How can I save,
one of my passions,
how can I make,
something beautiful
start again.

I'm falling endlessly,
no ground, no ground.
When will I land,
on solid earth,
will I ever,
land on the ground
again.

Im running out of time,
I'm late, i'm scared.
Will people hate me,
for not being there,
will they stop,
being there for me,
because I was not able to
be there for them.

Am I late,
I must be,
i'm too late,
and i'm sorry.

I wrote you a letter
which is ridiculous because I could call you
but a letter seemed more appropriate
and well, I can't just turn back now.

I put that letter in an envelope
and went to buy some stamps
The same kind that you had a collection of
I find it difficult to think of it

I placed a stamp on the envelope
I addressed it to you
the address was not the same
you moved so long ago

But I never sent it
I never let it go to you
and I regret that so much
because I knew you would have liked it

I took that letter
The envelope has yellowed with age
and I put it in a fire pit
and watched as it burned

I figure the smoke will carry it to you
To let you know I've been thinking
because this family season makes me sad
since it reminds me of who I once had

The words were only ever meant for you
and as the smoke drifts into the sky
and it slowly disappears
One single rain drop falls onto my face

and I know that you are here with me

In life,
there's an 'if' and a 'lie'.
In beautiful,
there is a 'beat'
and a 'F' and a 'U'.
Life is tricky,
you will always question it,
and people will lie.
There are too many people in life,
who will try to deceive you.
Being beautiful is harmful,
you will always 'beat' yourself up,
and 'beat' others
who are prettier,
or more presentable,
than you.
You will curse them out,
with a 'F' and a 'U'.
But you must accept
where you are in life.
Its not a competition to be beautiful,
and what does "being beautiful"
truly mean?
You must accept
that people will lie,
and you will question your choices.
Once you understand this,
then you'll realize,
that,
life is beautiful.

She looks unwell.

Bruises under her eyes
purple with no sleep.
I doubt she rests now.

She is getting worse.

You see her eyes moving
beneath their lids.
The panic settles in.

She is dying.

She shouldn't have gone on
that walk in the rain.
It was cold, so cold.

She is cold.

And pale like light
from a waning moon;
a crescent frown.

She is dead.

No breath stirs her chest.
Place your hands beneath
her stiffening body.

Light as a feather
Stiff as a board
Light as a feather
Stiff as a board
Light as a feather
Stiff as a board

Lift on the count of three
So her spirit will be free.

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.

Little lights,
that are far above my weary head.
They shine so bright that I can't see,
because I am blinded.

Dense treetops,
cover the sky above me.
Those lights have vanished,
I shiver as a cool breeze encompasses me.

Branches snap,
the sound echoes through the forest
Like a loud bell reverberates over the land.
Heavy snow falls from the trees above.

Icy paths,
test my center of gravity.
Can I stay on my feet? I must leave.
I can't move any faster or I will fall.

Darkest sky,
where are those little lights?
Black clouds cover the horizon,
and there is no telling where I am going.

Moving clouds,
separate to let me see,
the little lights that shine brightly,
and lead me through this night.

Little lights,
if I die
do me a favor,
and burn down this forest.

Chariots,
please just carry me
the rest of this distance,
because I can't walk anymore.

Sleepy mind,
don't black out now.
The chariot is right there,
just keep going.

Cold metal,
burns as I touch it.
But I drag myself onto it.
I need to make it out.

Closing eyes,
life flickering off.
The feel of cold snow blanketing my body.
There is no chariot to save me.

Little lights,
start to become fuzzy.
This forest must burn now.
For I will never exit.

Little Soldier
open up your eyes
see the bright light
welcome you to life.

Little Soldier
come back home
you will always be loved
when you're with us.

Little Soldier
please don't cry
yes you are young
far too young to die.

Little Soldier
there is no need to cry
we will always walk with you
in the afterlife.

Liars only obtain keen secrets
Kings initiate lethal legions

With vacant expressions
and blank stares,
they live in a dead end
going nowhere.
One is lost
one is halfway there,
can we save them?
Do they even care?
How much can they take,
from all of the fakes?
Will they get a second chance,
to take a stance?
and end the cruelty,
and the waste.
Of small children lives
when they're under five.

Strike the match!
Light the candles!
Conspirators gather 'round!
For we have come to eradicate,
the world of the old,
the useless,
the weary,
and the crowned.

Watch the wax!
Drip down so fast!
Let this drop seal our order,
the world of the chaotic,
the frantic,
the paranoid,
and the crying soldier.

See the flames!
Light the faces!
Of all who gathered today,
the world of the noble,
the sinner,
the suspicious,
and the people stuck in dismay.

The wax stops!
It drips, no more!
The infamous clock strikes twelve,
the world of the lights,
the candles,
the flames,
and watch as they drip the other way.

Look, those candles!
They melt in reverse!
All that work was sent backward,
the world of destruction,
the pain,
the confusion,
and the candles never burn downward.

The candle has melted!
It's just wax!
It had cooled on the table,
the world of the conspirators,
the liars,
the cheaters,
but the flames were always stable.

Pressurize and squeeze
the points at which we are weak
force us to release our control with a pop.
We let out an agonized groan,
as our support beams slide out of their joints
and grate against our buildings' bones.
They keep testing our metal
to see if it breaks.
But even as our bodies shake
we remain strong together.
Our mettle was forged in fires so hot,
so we will give it our best shot
and fight them until we cannot.