I am tired.
Being the person I've created for myself is overwhelming.
I am tired.
Every day I give every interesting piece of myself to others.
There is nothing left for me when I get home.
Do you ever wonder what a child thinks,
when they meet every new face,
of all different sizes and race?
I don't think there is a child you would find,
whose immediate reaction would be hateful or unkind.
Children learn from everything they see,
so lets teach love, not animosity.
the light of a hundred candles
casting shadows across the wooden pews
the sound of a hundred voices
all worshipping you
the love and faith of a hundred hearts
fill the empty spaces in the air
the concentration of a hundred minds
heads bent in reverent prayer
the strength of one community
brought together on this special night
the glory of one eternal God
holding us in his holy light
She was never sure it was what she wanted,
arguing with a man who wanted her to carry a piece of them both.
But sure enough a small bump formed,
and from the first heartbeat she fell in love.
Everything from then on was tiny socks in tiny shoes,
fluffy cribs in shades of pink and blue.
Excitement and worry and fierce protection,
arms curling on top of her belly in intense affection.
But when the time came, something went horribly wrong,
when there was no screeching and crying to break the calm.
A child, still, unusually peaceful and serene,
she held the tiny shell where her baby should have been.
Everything in her life reminded her of her pain,
and nothing inside her could ever be the same.
Not even he could understand,
how she was stranded in her ****** wasteland.
Clothes and toys quickly packed in a box,
her body still creating milk for a being that would never grow.
she'd have to find a way to move on, living with the constant ache,
of the loss of a person she would never know.
I remember it like it was yesterday
even though it happened in a time before memory
the mall was full of people
and they all crowded in a circle
the police broke through and I glimpsed her
laying, head cracked
the white tiles covered in thick crimson
she jumped, they whispered
and I wondered if she thought she could fly
instead she hit the ground, eyes open
hair stringy with already drying redness
she was young, fairly young
how young is young enough for it to be a tragedy?
my aunts pulled at my shoulder
my older sister wrapping her hand in mine
we took refuge in a Hallmark
and now, so many years later
I still think about it
I can still see her in my mind
you know its for the best
but you can stop the tears sliding down your cheeks
you know it's time to let go
but your heart aches inside your chest
a choked sob escapes your lips
because you thought, perhaps, it would not end like this
I wish I could hate you like I used to,
the ferocious hate that came after the betrayal.
I remember when I still loved you,
my endless devotion that ended up being fatal.
After it happened, you made my blood boil.
I could barely look at your face without wanting to shout.
It made me sick, my stomach would turn and roil,
how you still were able to fill me with self-doubt.
But now, I don't ever see you.
I don't ever think about you.
And on the rare occasion I do,
I feel nothing for you.
And that, for some reason makes me feel sad.
All my passion for you, just gone.
It's too hollow, and even if this sounds bad,
I wish I still hated you, at least that's a feeling I could count on.