Sweaty palms, broken dreams.
Those piercing sounds imprinted as screams.
Crusted blood hides under, dirt stricken nails.
Drags along where deep darkness lurks and prevails.
Breaths growing deeper, stumbling around.
Have to keep going, don't want to be found.
Hung on branches, bushes, and sand.
Trudging among the treacherous land.
Pull out a shovel, removing the earth.
Deeper and further, whatever it's worth.
Grabbing the cold, stiff, rubber-like hands.
Whispering I'm sorry, no reprimands.
Pick up the shovel, returning the ground.
Turns away, leaving his bride safe and sound.

Just because I'm introverted doesn't mean I'm shy
Doesn't mean I have no feelings or I never cry
Just because I'm introverted doesn't mean I'm scared
Doesn't mean I'm hateful or socially impaired
Just because I'm introverted doesn't say I'm weak
Maybe I don't feel the need to continuously speak
Just because I'm introverted doesn't make me weird
Doesn't mean that I am judged, misunderstood, or feared
Just because I'm introverted doesn't mean I have no life
Doesn't mean that I couldn't be a great friend or loving wife.

Why does it matter, whatever your size?
The amount of space between your thighs.

The width of your waist, the size of your shirt.
That doesn't measure what you're worth.

The buttons on your pants, the flat, toned abs.
That's one thing I sure don't have.


All of those "models" are starving and thin.
Do people even make the sizes they fit in?

Seeing every bone isn't healthy or right.
Society has done this, warped our sight.

The size of your bra, whether A or D.
Should not be the first thing we judge and see.

But unfortunately, all that I say isn't true.
The world judges the outside of both me and you.

The rough concrete caresses her thighs.
A look of madness dancing in her eyes.
Crisp, fall breeze blowing through hair.
How far the drop, no one is aware.
Bare feet dangle, sway forward and back
Sliding closer, still under attack.
A single tear drops and disappears in the mist
Hoping to catch it, the voices insist.
Seconds later, flying through the sky.
Feeling the frost, softly whispers goodbye.
Closed eyes, going numb.
Unbearable sorrow to which she would succumb.

To those who are hurting, to those feeling pain.
For those who have none left to regain.
To anyone beaten by their own mind, the lost and afraid who already died.
Just listen to me. Please, I've been there.
I know you are lost and drowned in despair.
I know how it feels to be all alone.
When your heart shrivels up, hard as stone.
Long sleepless nights, filled with tears.
Anticipating greatest fears.
Ready for darkness and death to grip.
Watching the blood from your wrists drip.
Hopeless and hollow, no strength left.
Slowly inhaling the very last breath.
Please be a fighter, do not give in.
God has the power, He knows you can win.
Bold and triumphant, making it through.
Embracing the future, see what you can do.

AB:  Flowers and trees, a thousand degrees, we ***** around in the winter , we can't freeze.

FNB: Leaves are falling, fireplace calling. The icy cold wind is somewhat appalling.

AB: Lost in translation, broken sacrifices, free vacation, let's perform a crisis.

FNB: Out in the dainty, crystalline frost, I reach for your hand and my worries are lost.
But winter will fade and in comes the sun. The cold left some ice that can't be undone.

AB: Summer time when spirit of a young god lay to rest, flowers in your hair signifies that you're at your best. Love music and tattoos, a grain of sand, sitting in the corn fields, we can't lose, to a world created by man.

New flowers to bloom, the ice has gone.
Baby animals stumble out of the dawn.
Life, happiness, love, and fun.
Is my wish for you, soft little one.

As spring turns to summer, cool breeze in your hair.
Your supple, tanned skin which once was so fair.
Growing up fast, more warmth ahead.
Out of your crib, in a big girl bed.

But as seasons change, so do we.
Then comes fall, a catastrophe.
Once warm and bright, cold wind races through.
Losing piles of leaves, and parts of you.
Piercing, bare branches sting like a knife.
When fall comes, prepare to get up for your life.

Winter charges, no mercy, no end.
Stinging blizzards swirl again and again.
Lost and alone, frosted heart.
Then opens a door, the heat melts it apart. Reluctant; heat burns on frostbitten skin.
Buried in blankets and warmth from within.

Broken and brittle, heart frozen and small.
Taken in and warmed up. Someone heard your call.
Sitting together in front of a fire.
Hand in hand, knowing love will never expire.

The first time that I felt the thrill.
In my English class, I wasn't thinking, it just happened.
I had wondered for a long time, what it would feel like.
So I put the pencil on my arm.
It danced and glided across my skin and for the first time in a long while, I felt something.
I continued to get the thrill of pain.
Any way I could. Anytime I felt like it.
Sometimes 12 hours a day.
It took a turn for the worst.
My arms, hands and legs were already scarred.
Why not my wrist?
The ultimate statement, something everyone can see for all eternity.
So now I am stuck with five, perfectly straight scars running across my wrist.
But I did it myself. I don't complain.
I can't remember when I stopped. But it lasted about four months.
Then, one of my friends needed help.
She was really stuck. When I went in the dark to drag her out, I fell in.
I started small. Didn't tell anyone.
It was easier that way.
It escalated quickly. I was at my worst.
I had slit my sides, my shoulder, my arms, my legs.
A zipper of cuts dripped down my stomach.
I felt so many things, that I couldn't feel anything.
I acquired a collection of scars all over and I knew that I needed to stop.
Enough was enough.
Stopping the second time was a hell of a lot harder than the first.
As of today, I have been completely clean for a month.
30 days seems like nothing.
But if I can go the first month, I can go for the rest of my life.
I know what cutting is like and I am over it.
Cutting was a great feeling. But nothing compares to the feeling of kicking your addiction in the ***.

Way back when in Bible times,
Being a ***** was like a crime.

But you'd think with today's many advances,
We'd offer more people second chances.

Today we have lepers all around.
But no one helps them stand their ground.

They come in different shapes, sizes, forms.
Black, white, yellow, orange.

Homosexuals, transgender, maybe different than you.
They're all human beings, respect them too.

Don't hate because they have darker skin, being yourself is not a sin.

Don't hate because someone is in the wrong clothes.
It's not your choice, that's just how it goes.

And remember just how lucky you are, getting married at the altar.
While maybe two women or men somewhere near.
Are living together with one great fear.

You can get married, so why can't they?
Why do opinions get in the way?

Just tell me what's wrong with accepting everyone?
Do you think war, prejudice, and tragedy's fun?

Change can be hard, but change can be good.
Make the world become what it should.

Isn't it crazy how one decision can change everything forever?
Like having that extra test at the doctor.
Who knew an endoscopy could be the difference between life and death?
No one was expecting anything to happen.
Just routine checkup.
This would be everything but routine.

A tiny little cancerous polyp cost half an esophagus plus part of a stomach and spleen.
Years of recovery, sleepless nights.
Feeding tubes, coughing fits, at home nurses.
Building up strength just to walk into his own home for the first time in weeks.

That tiny cancer would've spread.
On this day, we could've been mourning instead of celebrating.
Cancer took a hell of a lot from us, but look what it gave us.
My dad turned 48 today.
Without surgery, I wouldn't get the privilege of spending this birthday and many more with my dad.