The ceaseless rain echoes so loud,
and hides the words I can't say aloud,
words that feel heavy, on my eloquent tongue,
as my heart beats out poems, and demands they be sung.

1. Maternal worry of not having a corpse to bury:
Don’t go to the quarry. You’ll cramp and sink and wedge into
a ledge and divers will not find you until next spring.  
Oh yes fueled concern fed by the loss of another child we did not know.
If I told you Ma that we were all going
there most summer days and there we perfected our sailor dives:
Would you smile or smack us silly?

#2. Maternal worry of not having a
corpse to bury.  You’ll explode and sink and drop into the ocean
and divers will not find you until debris-bombed waves bob.  Oh yes
fueled concern fed by the loss of other children we did not know.
I tell you Ma we were all there:
that’s how we perfected our sailor dives
in flight, flightless plunged.

Be kind,
Even when you are not supposed to,
It's a bravery shown and
is what most don't hold with in.

Be kind,
For the world who just wanna start another war and slaughter every last piece of kindness
you hold within.

Will you still be kind?
For if you will,
You'll be the one who'll save the world

im a rolling pebble
kicked down  
the road's shoulder

the hurt
is alive
and my eyes
are opening

there is no such thing
as home anymore
i know
that much