Lamenting
through pupillary logs
with disregard and no regret,
I look back
remembering as far as I can
tiny, specks.

if only things were different

we didnt need to scream and cry in the streets to get our voices heard

we didnt need to argue basic human rights

we didnt need to march the streets to protect innocent lives

if only things were different

i wish we could be in a world where it wasnt full of hate

i wish we lived somewhere someone can exist safely

I’m buried in a cocoon of stories
From poetry,
To biographies,
To dystopia,
And romance
So many stories
Of so many people
Real,
Or just figments of the author’s
Imagination
Sitting atop wooden bookshelves
Waiting for the right person,
To pick them up
And get lost in their story
For everyone has a story to tell,
Some are overly exaggerated,
And other’s are rarely heard
The important thing is
That we share our stories
Through word of mouth,
The internet,
Or in a notebook
To be found by future historians
Tell your story
Believe me, you won’t regret it

I know that I’ve no right to feel
These feelings weighing down on me
But every time we have these talks
The feelings come crashing back to me

Being kind is the cruelest thing you do to me

Sammy can't afford the pills
so he's learned to cook
with just a spoon
& some shaky friends