My neighbors to the right,
Every other day I would go to the fence.
So I could gaze at your house,
To see if I could figure out what was going on over there.
It always looked so secluded back in the corner.
It was quite the view.

I remember we would visit,
Once or twice every other week.
Maybe even more often than that.
My memories have begun to blur.
We would talk to you,
And I would listen to your stories.
Of how things were back then,
And I would fantasize about how things were in your time.

I would explore
The mysteries on your property
And my family would fish
In one of two ponds
Holidays were the best
Family all together
The days went flying by
And deep down in my heart
I loved my neighbors on the right

We called you by some nicknames
Couldn’t tell if you liked them or not
But I didn’t care

She would give us doughnuts
Of many different flavors
They were so delicious
That I forgot to savor the time we spent

He would tell us stories and tell us goodbye
Everytime we left he wanted to make sure we were told hi
The little things that made me happy all the time
From my neighbors to the right

Then time ticked on by
And before I knew it years had been left behind
You were getting slower and I was getting older
And we were running out of time

When he was gone I didn’t believe it
Time stood still
Then I began to notice
How empty things felt
And the deafening silence

We kept coming over to see your smiling face
And even though one was gone your joy never ceased
I could tell when we walked into the room it made your day as much as it made mine
But I knew it wouldn’t last forever
And time was running out

And time kept moving on
Things came and went with time
And deep down inside my heart I knew
I was losing my neighbors to the right
Time kept chasing me
And before I knew it years gone by
Middle school was coming to its end very quickly
And all I wanted to do was go back
And talk to my neighbors on the right

You started slowing down even more
And things started to sway far away from normal
To tell the truth it scared me greatly
I didn’t want to believe the worse
But I wasn’t naive enough to believe the best
Things went from bad to worse
Time started to go slower
I enjoyed every little visit
Every tiny conversation
But deep down in my heart
I’d fear that any one of those visits
Would have been the last
And eventually it was

Mom and Dad ran up to see you
But you were gone before they even made it there
But when they left
I felt that something wrong would happen
Turns out I was right
When Mom and Dad delivered the news
I couldn’t even think about what to do
That night was the hardest
Even though I thought I was ready
I was dead wrong
The loss finally hit me
And I fell apart
All the memories flashed over
And all the times that I passed up
Listening to all your stories
And all the times I decided to stay home
Instead of visiting with you two
Guilt was knocking at the back of my brain
All the time I wouldn’t get back
All the time I wasted
All the time I spent doing stupid things
Every little thing
Every Christmas where we would visit you
Would never happen again

Still didn’t believe it weeks later
Sometimes I would be in my room and randomly cry
I assumed the reason was
Because I thought about you again

Dad wanted to buy the house
The place where his memories lied
Mom knew we couldn’t
I never saw my Dad cry before
The family went by and grabbed all the stuff
Until the house was barren inside and out
All I wanted was a windmill
But it was already gone

And time ticked on by
Before you know it nine months have gone by
A new owner for the house you once lived in
My neighbors to the right

My family went fishing one last time
One last chance before it was too late
To enjoy ourselves in what once was
It didn’t work for me
I felt I had to leave
My Mom asked where I was going and I said to think
A lot of thinking I did
In hindsight I should have just stayed
I walked up to the front door and tried to get inside
It was locked so I checked the other doors
No luck so I sat down on the front porch and sighed
I wanted to kick down the door so bad
To see what had happened in the home I so adored
But it was futile I knew
So I just let my brain go of the rails
The memories began to flash back
And I felt a presence to my left and my right
Regret and guilt exploding in my mind as we watched the sun set
Before I knew it, it was time to go
So I said goodbye
The house set so still
As we drove into the night
As I looked back at the house
I felt something inside
A feeling of intense sadness
I think a part of my heart died

My Dad would talk about what he should have done
He should have bought the house
I feel conflicted because deep down in my heart
I feel just fine where I am
All I have ever known is in my house
While his is just to the right
A battle of memories
A fruitless fight
He knows it couldn’t have been done
And that is why I think it hurts him so much
He may think I may never understand
But I do
I envision this scenario every day in my head

Middle school came to a close
You weren’t there to say good job
High school was on the horizon
Before you know it I will be driving
What a scary thought that is

I never told you that I wanted to be a writer
Or that I already was
One of the many regrets
I bet you would have loved what I wrote

Time kept ticking on
As my memories began to blur
I forget the sound of your voices
I thought that I would get used to the pain
Eventually it starts to numb
Until you tear off the band-aid
Many nights in my room
Wishing you were still here
Wishes only get you so far
Especially when what you wish for isn’t real

My family saw a road leading into the property
A road that wasn’t there before
We went to investigate
We should have just drove on by
A bunch of lots eighteen in all
The property cut like a pie
Into a bunch of tiny little pieces
Like a nightmare come to life
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing
How could they do this, it wasn’t fair
But no matter what I thought or I wondered
The deal was already sealed


My neighbors to the right
I sometimes go to the fence
But what I see is not your house
It is a bad dream
I see the lots eighteen in all
As I gaze upon the property
I see construction vehicles sitting by
More like the ruination of precious memories
Not like the driver could care any less
They are clueless and blind to what I see

I miss the different flavored doughnuts
And the stories you’d tell
Oh you don’t know all that I’d give
Just for one more day
To tell you that I love you
MeMaw and PePaw though I bet you already know
Not a day goes by when I don’t think about you
Especially in December.

So my neighbors to the right
When I look over the fence, cover your eyes.
You don’t want to see what I see
Though you already do.
I hope somewhere out there
You're proud of what I have done.
Because no matter what
No matter how long time ticks on
You will always be
My neighbors to the right.

I remember you,
And I know you remember me.
At least, I bet you do,
You were obsessed with me before.

When we were younger,
I thought you were quite the character.
I thought you were a nice person,
Little did I know what I was in for.

It started off small,
You would tell me how discontent you were.
I would try to cheer you up,
To no avail.
You would say that you hated yourself,
I would give you reasons that you were amazing.
We agreed to disagree.
I thought this would be temporary,
I thought it was a phase,
Yet, to my dismay,
It set the stage,
For the rest of the First through Seventh grades.

I would give you everything,
My heart and my ears,
For you just to complain,
About your pain,
Amidst the breaking of my heart.

I can’t remember what year it was,
When you showed me your scars.
When I saw what you would do to yourself,
It made me go numb.
Reality kicked in,
My mind started racing,
I was speechless,
I didn’t know what to say.

Your discontentment,
Turned into resentment,
For your life,
All you could tell me,
Every day,
Was how much you wanted to leave it all behind.
I would plead,
I would beg,
Give you reasons to hold on.
I made the mistake,
Of giving you my heart.
I would go home every night,
Afraid for your safety,
Stay up late and cry,
Wondering if you’d be back at school tomorrow.
Or if you had done what you said,
You’d do…

I started to wonder.
Was this life worth living,
If some people were so determined to throw it away?
Was it worth climbing the mountain,
And experiencing all the pain?
Is the view from the top worth the journey?
Is the hike worth the effort to walk?
I asked myself countless times,
And I came to the conclusion that I,
Think it is.

Seven years,
That’s how long I listened.
How long I let you pull me down,
With your depression.
I didn’t know how to help you,
But I just wanted you to be okay.
You said you cared about me too,
But I don’t think you did.

You began to rub off on me,
The colors had faded to a melancholic gray,
Apathy started to materialize,
And it hasn’t gone away.
You dug us both a hole,
And tried to bury us alive.
I let you have a hold on me,
The biggest mistake of my life.

One day in seventh grade,
You nearly got your wish,
I don’t know all the details,
Ignorance is bliss.
I was broken that night,
Wondering if I,
Could have done more,
Didn’t do enough,
Did I do what’s right?
Or was I hurting us both?
This wasn’t what I wanted when I met you,
All those years ago,
Being around you for seven years,
Was taking its toll.

I snapped,
I broke,
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I cried,
I prayed,
Like I had done those seven years before.
I thought,
I decided,
That it would be best.
If I,
Stepped back,
I couldn’t listen to any more discontentment.

Eight grade was hard,
I didn’t want to push you away,
But I couldn’t stand worrying,
Every single day.
I had to break the chains,
That tethered us together,
I felt like the bad guy,
But sometimes,
Even the villain of the story is justified.
It hurt my soul,
To let you go,
Because I cared,
About you.
You were my friend,
But in the end,
I don’t think it was reciprocated.
I think all I was to you was an ear,
To tell all your thoughts,
To someone willing to hear,
And while that’s fine,
I think you forgot,
That I have a life,
As well.

Ninth, high school began,
And you weren’t there,
Or at least I shut you out,
So I didn’t notice.
Ninth, was the greatest year of school,
In my life,
I felt joy,
I felt at peace,
But most of all,
I felt free.

I hope you’re doing well,
Better than you were.
However, I don’t think I want to talk with you again.
You hurt me,
You cut me deep,
I’m still repairing,
The damage you left me.
I opened my heart to you,
And you brought a hurricane,
You dug us both a hole,
And you left me to fend for myself.
I don’t know,
If I’ll ever escape,
But I’ll dig a tunnel,
And find my way.
There’s always a light,
And I believe I’ll find it,
And bask in its rays.

I wish you the best,
But I’m saying goodbye one last time.
If I’m to move on,
I have to leave you behind.
I’ll put you on a boat,
And push you off into the ocean,
And I’ll hope,
That you too find your way.
I’ll remember your name,
Etched in my brain.
I just had a few things left to say,
A few more thoughts rattling in my brain,
Even though it may have seemed impolite,
I had to give you a piece of my mind.

I remember how I used to wonder.
Was this life worth living,
If some people were so determined to throw it away?
Was it worth climbing the mountain,
And experiencing all the pain?
Is the view from the top worth the journey?
Is the hike worth the effort to walk?
I asked myself countless times,
And I still conclude,
That I,
Think it is.

Farewell,
My former friend.

One sunny summer day.
In the middle of summer break.
A boy was pleasantly surprised to find,
A cat in his backyard.

The cat was frantic at first,
It hid under a vintage, rusted old car,
The boy’s father’s dream lying to waste.
But after some bribery, clean water, and pets,
The cat had gained a new friend.

The cat decided then that it would stick around,
So it was bound and determined to stay relevant.
The boy would take the cat on his nature walks,
Throughout the forest that sprawled all across the backyard.
The cat was loyal, it followed his every step,
And it never resisted when he reached down to pet it.
The purring helped put the boy’s mind at ease,
Something he desperately needed.
It distracted him,
From the pain in his heart.

You see his family of three,
Used to be of four,
But after five long happy years,
Fate came to settle the score.
The family had just begun to settle into their new normal,
When the cat came into their lives,
It was as if fate was apologizing for the way it treated them,
Or maybe that was a self-aware lie.

The cat and the boy bonded like siblings,
The boy would tell the cat what was on his mind,
It was so vivid he nearly tricked himself into believing,
That his late little brother was alive.
A few months later, school began,
And every day the boy would bid the cat farewell.
But something stirred within the cat,
Something told it that things weren’t “well”.

The boy was starting high school,
The weight of the world slowly pressed onto his back.
He never truly comprehended the full magnitude of the situation,
Till it was too late to go back.

The boy was bright amidst a flurry of distorted lights,
It was a shame that he was quiet.
So many ideas he had were laid to waste inside his mind,
Because he was afraid of being wrong instead of right.
But the boy had a major problem,
He was feeling overwhelmed.
His pain was boiling to a head,
And no one was there to comfort him.
How could they understand?
People were siphoning the joy from his life,
The glee he once shared with his brother and then the cat,
It all came to a close one winter night,
When the straw broke the camel’s back…

The cat saw a van covered in flashy lights,
It saw the boy being taken on a metal bed.
As the van sped away, and the boy’s parents followed,
The cat noticed the sky becoming gray.

Hours later, the parents returned,
But to the cat’s dismay,
Only two pairs of feet got out of the car,
As all the pieces fell into place.
And as the thunder boomed,
And the rain poured,
And the parents began to cry,
The cat finally realized:
That the boy had died.

The whole world started to mourn,
Because they knew they had lost a radiant light,
It would be a hard few days,
But nothing compared to that night.
The birds stopped singing,
The crickets stopped chirping,
The dogs stopped barking,
Even the predators stopped hunting,
The world stood still in succor,
Enigmatic bliss.

However in the wake of all the tragedy,
Something inconceivable occurred,
When the parents of the boy walked through their front door,
They left it open with intent.
The cat curiously meandered to the entrance,
As the parents motion for the cat to come in.
After all, the least that they could do was,
Give a home to a family friend…

A Poem By: Reece Ellison
The Immortal One sits solemnly in his favorite field of sunflowers.
He waits patiently for time to pass.
He doesn’t have to wait long,
It’s happening all around him.
He watches the people in the town below,
They work so hard all throughout their lives,
And in return they receive nothing…
Nothing at all.

The Immortal One wasn’t always immortal,
Contrary to the town folks' beliefs.
He was once a normal human just like the rest of them,
Oh, how he missed those days,
Little did he know that that was just the first phase,
Of his life that is.
Back then he had a family,
A wife and a daughter.
His memory has faded over time,
But through it all, he remembers their names,
Lydia his wife, and Luna his daughter.

Those were the simpler times,
When he would watch his daughter play in the fields of sunflowers,
The same one he lays in now.
His wife had always loved sunflowers,
That’s why he lived where he did,
He loved the smile on her face when she would look out every day.
One day he was searching the forest.
Because his daughter had not come home,
She was lost and captured by monsters,
But not for long.
He followed them into a cave,
The place where the monsters called home.
As he searched for his daughter,
He found some sort of stone.
He was entranced by its beauty,
He reached out his hand and grabbed it,
Suddenly energy and power surged through him,
And the Immortal One was born.

It didn’t take him long to find her,
The monsters were very loud.
He found her tied to a tree,
The monsters were preparing to feast.
His anger reached a breaking point,
Power surged from his veins,
In the blink of an eye, the monsters were vaporized,
And Little Luna was saved.

Before he knew it his little girl wasn’t little anymore.
His wife’s beautiful scarlet hair faded to a gray.
She was still as sweet as she always was,
All the way to her final days.
The Immortal One looked just the same.
Not much about his appearance changed.
Except his eyes looked more tired and sad,
As the truth finally sunk in.
At first, he thought that the stone was a blessing,
He saved people all around the village he lived in.
He later realized that it was a curse,
Too much power for one man to master,
And too much pain down the line.

It was a pretty summer day,
When Lydia was buried in that field which she did love.
That day it rained heavily,
He knew that it was a sign.
By that point, Little Luna had a family,
Husband Ryder, son Luke, and their daughter Emma.
They were all there on the funeral day,
Then afterward they all cried themselves to sleep.

Then in what seemed like weeks to the Immortal One,
But was actually decades,
Luna was buried beside her mom.
The Immortal One used all his anger,
And a crater in the Earth was left when he was done.
Why did he have to touch that stone?
Why did he have to watch them die?
Unfortunately, his powers couldn’t save them,
It was their destiny.
He had beaten a whole lot of monsters,
In many shapes, forms, and sizes.
At the end of the day,
His worst enemy,
Was time…

He watched as the small little village he protected,
Blossomed into a little town,
Which then turned into a city,
The place he still called home.
He still fought off monsters,
He still made sure that the people were safe,
Every night he cried,
For everything he lost.

Lydia had a little nursery rhyme,
That she would sing to Luna as a baby,
Who then passed it on to her children,
They kept the memories alive.
It went like this:
Don’t let me see those tears fall down your cheek,
It’s too beautiful outside to cry.
The sun is shining,
The sunflowers are dancing on the Earth.
Then when the Moon shines bright at night,
Tell him what troubles you.
Then close your eyes,
And bask in the somber moonlight.

All that the Immortal One could think about,
Was all that he lost.
Even though centuries had gone by,
And the world changed so much.
He still felt the pain of loss,
Deep in his heart,
His broken heart…
He sat in his favorite sunflower field,
And watched as day faded to night.
It was at that moment,
That he finally had enough,
No more suffering.
He was going to put everything to rest.
He used all of his pain,
And created a spark with the power to destroy the world,
And him.
Just one touch of that spark to the Earth,
And everything would be gone.
Flashbacks from all the memories,
All the people he met along the way.
Why did life have to be so painful?
Why did things have to end this way?
The full moon shined its bright lights,
And he was ready to finally die,
As he cried.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder,
Through the darkness, he saw a little girl’s eyes.
Looked similar to Little Luna’s
She told him “Tonight is too beautiful a night to die.”
He sensed the girl,
Was one of his descendants.
He couldn’t destroy the whole world,
At that moment he was reminded,
How beautiful nature was.
They set down into the sunflower field,
As the moonlight shone in their eyes.
It was in that moment,
Both began to sing:
Don’t let me see those tears fall down your cheek,
It’s too beautiful outside to cry.
The sun is shining,
The sunflowers are dancing on the Earth.
Then when the Moon shines bright at night,
Tell him what troubles you.
Then close your eyes,
And bask in the somber moonlight.

The Immortal One told the girl to go home to bed,
She did reluctantly but said,
“Don’t let the simple things pass you by.”
Then she left,
But the Immortal One didn’t cry.
He used the power in that spark,
And opened a doorway deep into the dark.
Through the door, he saw a whole new world,
A fresh new start.

As he went to take a step,
He told this world goodbye,
The little girl called out “Wait!”
He turned around,
And there she was,
And she had decided,
She was coming too.
The Immortal One told her no.
She had a family waiting for her to come home.
The little girl said she didn’t,
They were killed long ago.
She wanted to leave this place behind,
And go on a different adventure,
And who better to go with,
Then a protector of the world?

So with that, they both gazed through the gateway,
A whole new journey was just about to begin.
As they stepped through the portal,
The Immortal One realized he had gained a friend.

I’ve got a few things I want to say,
A few thoughts rattling around in my brain,
And though it may seem impolite,
I’m going to give you a piece of my mind.

I know I haven’t been around a long time,
Just a decade and a half.
However, I’ve still learned a thing or two,
About this world filled with gaffes.

This world’s a scary place,
Full of scary people,
And if you’re not careful,
They’ll eat you alive,
Chew you up, and spit you out,
With no regard for your life or your health.
We’re dancing in a fire,
Of our own making,
As people continue whining and complaining.
We need saving,
Oh, how we need saving.

It’s ironic,
How our greatest foe is ourselves,
So much petty bickering,
Chastises the thinking,
Until we’re at a point where we can’t do anything.

Who can you trust?
Your neighbor could be just,
Or a sociopath,
Hiding behind a mask.
Is everyone a friend?
Or is everyone a foe?
Or is there more nuance?
How are we to know?
Till it’s too late,
And we’re beaten down,
Lost everything,
To a monster.

Highschool’s a mess,
No finesse,
Filled with stress,
And depression.
On a quest,
To reassess,
And to suppress,
All unnecessary emotions.
Don’t want to sound too forlorn,
But is it too much to ask to live in a world,
Where everyday doesn’t feel like a chore,
Just to push through?
So much strife,
All through life.
Is it right,
Or wrong?
When does life,
Become less about surviving,
And more about living,
In this crazy time?

Seven hours,
Seven different subjects,
Piled onto a developing mind.
Some unnecessary,
Others are vital,
Few are a waste of time.
While everyone discovers their niche,
A fight for survival,
Some parts are primal,
Survival of the fittest they say,
It’s a shame that not everyone makes it out,
To fight another day.

To quote one of my favorite songs,
By a man named Alec Benjamin,
Titled “Gotta Be A Reason.”
“There’s gotta be a reason that I’m here on Earth,
Gotta be a reason for the dust and the dirt.
Oh, the changing of the seasons never changed my hurt.
So what’s it worth, what’s it worth?”
I believe that things happen for a reason,
Good or bad,
Then you have to question,
What the reason truly is?

This world’s a crazy place,
Full of crazy people,
And if you’re not careful,
They’ll eat you alive,
Chew you up, and spit you out,
With no regard for your life or your health.
We’re dancing in a fire,
Of our own making,
And no amount of raining,
Can drown out the whining and complaining.
We need saving,
Oh, how we need saving.

So there you go,
I opened up the vault,
And gave you a sample,
Of what’s inside my heart.
Take it as you’d like,
There’s not much more to say,
That’s just how I feel,
This specific day.
I have a feeling of dread,
As this year approaches its end.
2025.
By mid-March, I’ll be able to drive.
God, how time flies…

A bird sits on a limb of a tree,
Unbeknownst to the strife of human life.
Little does it know,
That tonight, a soul sleeps for the final time.

Trapped in a mental labyrinth,
Trapped with only one escape in sight.
Do you hold on?
Or do you let go before the sunlight finds you?
Tomorrow could be a better day,
But is it worth it to suffer another moment?
I’d say yes, but I’m just a naive fool,
Knowing little of the minds of so many crying eyes.

So many mental battles,
Every day another war to overcome.
Exhausting as it may be,
Every battle leaves the soul just a little bit stronger.
On the other side of the coin,
Every battle leaves the soul just a little bit more hurt.

The wind blows through the trees,
And nobody knows that the soul just wanted peace,
And nobody’s there to hold it,
All it wants is a friend, someone to help them.
But when it counts, there’s nobody around.

Every day another soul losses all hope,
And people joke about it at the slightest inconvenience,
“A test? I want to die.”
“More than one? Doubled now.”
What a inconsiderate thing to say, mocking all of the true pain,
Of all the real people who jumped off the edge.
Of all the real people who wished for their deaths.
Of all the real people who cried out for help to deaf ears.
Of all the real people who die every year.
It’s always a funny joke, until it happens,
And if you had a conscience maybe we’d stop this,
But we keep playing the same old pitiful charade.
As another soul fades away.
What will it take to stop?
What will it take to help?

I’ve often wondered about the value of life,
I had a friend who valued theirs very little.
They made sure to tell me every single day,
Until I pushed them away.
Pulled down in a hole of darkness,
I claw my way to the top to see the sunlight.
A long road but I know that it’s worth it.
I know in my soul that I won’t let go of the rope.

I found a small poem in my library book,
And it got me to wonder and think,
Did someone else succumb to their pain?
Or was this poem just a stepping stone,
On their road to happiness unknown?
You be the judge:
“I hold onto a rope.
I do not know where it leads.
But it gives me a sense of security.
Do I let go? And stand on my own?
No, for I fear of losing all hope.
So I stay and I follow.”
A tragic tale, with an ending unknown.
I just hope that wherever this person is,
They’re doing better than when they wrote this.
I pray and hope that they aren’t dead.

I often wonder what the future could’ve been,
For the souls, who lost it all.
They could’ve done great things,
Now we’ll never know.
That’s a depressing revelation,
It fills me with deep sorrow.

On the news you see people die everyday,
The tragic thing is that one starts to become numb.
That isn’t the way that the world should be, but it is.
Another struggle added to the list.

I’m not afraid to admit that I’m terrified of death,
Depending on how I’ll die.
I’m afraid of my overthinking, anxious mind,
Thinking it’s last thought, before it turns off,
And I leave this world behind.
I know where I’m going,
And deep down, it is well with my soul.
But I can’t help but worry,
About all the other souls, and where they got to go.
I pray that they found their peace,
And the Lord shows them mercy.

The worst part is that nothing skips a beat,
Things keep moving on,
Not even a moment to process, must get back to the action.
Time can be your friend, or it can make you hurt.

When my uncle died,
Things felt about the same.
He had been in a hospital for a while,
So he was already gone,
But when he died the silence felt brand new.
As for my grandparents on my dad’s side,
They died a few years apart.
There is nothing more agonizing than watching someone fade away.
The breaking of the heart is the worst kind of pain, because it stays.

It’s always so strange, how it feels like fiction.
It feels like it can’t possibly be true.
But as you wait, and listen, to the deafening silence,
You realize the truth.

A bird sits on a limb of a tree,
Unbeknownst to the strife of human life.
Little does it know,
That tonight, a soul was saved from everlasting sleep.
By his own hands,
It decided to live another day.
It loves the sunrises and the sunsets,
So it vowed to see tomorrow through.
The bird flies away,
As the world waits for tomorrow to show its face.

The saddest part to me,
Is that I never truly understood,
Why you did the things that you did,
And the choices that you made.

Even after all this time,
It’s been about two years or maybe three.
Things still seem so surreal,
I don't think things will ever truly go back to the way they used to be.

You were seized by a monster,
A monster that never let you escape,
That monster we call addiction,
It comes in many different forms.
Whether smoking, or drinking, or abusing, or lying,
It can be anywhere at any time.

We all knew you had a problem,
It wasn’t a secret kept hidden from view,
You were smoking and drinking and losing yourself,
And there was nothing I could do.
I learned quickly to avoid addictions,
And my teacher was you.

I don’t quite know how long you had done this,
All I know is that I saw a lot,
I wished and I hope that you would change,
That maybe one day you would stop.

I know that you tried,
You were in a fight that was near-impossible to win.
Deep down you were fighting your hardest,
At least that’s what I hope you did.

Sometimes I would ask you why,
Why you never just quit,
As if I thought it was easy,
Now I know that you dug yourself a pit,
A deep pit.

God has given me a blessing,
I can’t stand cigarette smoke at all,
If I inhale just a little,
It gives me a headache and makes me feel like I’ll fall.

Christmases came and gone,
We’d have fun but then you would cough,
And cough, and cough some more.
Another harsh reminder,
Of what was in store.

You never looked well.
You always looked sick in the face.
You would ***** and some days never get to eat.
You would even sometimes struggle to catch your breath.

Sometimes you would try to talk to me,
And I could tell that you were drunk,
I would just ignore you,
Probably wasn’t the best thing to do.

You used to say funny things,
As funny as they were stupid,
You could always put a smile on my face,
Sometimes I miss those things you used to say.

Sometimes I would look at you,
And I wouldn’t see the uncle that I knew,
It was some dark facade you had made up,
From your pain, the alcohol and the cigarettes too.
I wanted nothing to do with you,
I felt betrayed and angry,
How dare you throw your life away,
You have a mother, a sister, a brother that love you,
Not to mention your nephews and nieces.
I thought that you were selfish,
That you didn’t care enough to change,
Sometimes I hated and resented you,
But now that’s no longer the case.

You were gone,
In the hospital,
Your body had had enough.
Mommom was at the house alone,
Things never felt the same.

No more witty sayings,
No more funny lines,
No more playing games,
No more fun times,
All of it shadowed by a thick coat of gray,
And now it was far too late.

I remember there was a time when you came back,
Thought maybe now you would finally change,
You had seen death’s door,
I hoped you wouldn’t stay the same.

I think you got a bit better,
I thought you had learned your lesson,
Guess I was wrong.

One day they found you,
Lying over your bed,
Head bowed, hands and fingers joined like you were praying,
You were dead.

Mom and Mommom were crying,
I didn’t believe it at first.
How could you be gone?
My brother was crushed.
Dad came to take us away,
As the police came inside the home,
A tragedy that hurt us all,
But the worst thing was,
I thought it was coming all along.

Christmas came around,
No funny lines or remarks to be made.
I think that’s when it hit me the hardest,
That and the fact that the house was so quiet,
It was like a nightmare you could not wake from.
This wasn’t a fallacy it was reality,
And I wasn’t in control.

So many questions went through my mind.
Why didn’t you just quit?
Why did you leave us behind?
The biggest one that stood out like a sore thumb,
Why didn’t you even try?

Your funeral came around,
Another body lowered into the ground.
There was plenty of sorrow to be found,
And from your room, not a sound.

When summer came the removal began,
First was all of the comics and other books.
Then was your furniture and bed.
The rest of the stained carpet was removed.
It looked like a completely different room.
A new carpet was put in the place of the old one.
The walls got a fresh coat of paint.
Your room became a secondary room for fabric aplenty,
For all of the sewing projects Mommom would make.

When the room was clear,
Before all the fabric moved inside,
Sometimes I would go into the room,
And just stand.
I’d think of what it used to be,
The place where you formerly resided.
I’d think of what could have been,
Sometimes that’s all someone can do.
But this is the way it went,
The way that the story ended.

You were only human,
And you made a dumb mistake,
And you became addicted,
And you couldn’t get away.
I know that you tried.
As hard as you could,
I just wish you were still here,
And you did what you should.

I think you could have changed,
If only you had a bit more time
However, was the one thing,
That we didn’t have.
That’s the hardest thing to cope with.

I know that life will be hard,
And I know that it won’t always be easy,
But I know that there are better ways to cope,
Then tearing your life apart.

I know that you tried your hardest,
And I wish that you tried a bit harder,
And I hope that one day,
I’ll talk to you again,
The man freed from his burdens.

And if not…
I hope that you know,
Someway, somehow you know,
That your nephew loves you more…
Than he ever got to show,
And you ever got to know.

There’s nothing that gets me more excited,
Then hearing we’re eating,
Grandma’s biscuits this afternoon.
Whether morning, evening, or night,
I’ll eat them at any time.

So many stories,
Of a long life,
I can barely picture.
Ones filled with joy,
Humor,
Pain,
And grief.
How I delight,
To hear her tales,
Whether tall or not.

Every year,
She visits her sister,
Out in Michigan,
And they go on a trip,
To Arizona.
If I was her age,
I wouldn’t want to move,
I see the pain,
Behind her smile.
I know, though,
As long as she can,
She’ll visit her sister,
In Michigan.

During the summer,
When things seem to slow,
She’s there with activities,
To mellow out the flow.
Yet sometimes, I admit,
I complain and I groan,
A foolish mistake,
The effects not yet shown…

We’ve been through a lot,
She’s seen a lot more than I,
Yet we share that connection,
That connection,
Of family tied so tight.

One of her sons,
Fell in a hole,
And picked up a bottle,
And sold his soul.
I know it wasn’t my fault,
And out of my control,
Yet the way I reacted,
To his actions,
Haunts my soul.
Where he used to reside,
Gutted and reformed,
Filled with fabric,
Waiting to be used.
Sometimes I walk into that room,
To remember…

Even when she’s hurting,
And she can barely walk,
She’ll fix up a supper,
Before you can stop her.
Her stubbornness incalculable,
A trait passed to my mom,
And my brother,
And probably me,
I can’t deny,
Sometimes she worries me.

I’ve already witnessed the end,
On my dad’s side,
The lots, eighteen in all,
Or so I thought.
My neighbors to the right,
Shield your eyes…

I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,
When she leaves us behind,
I’ve questioned myself,
Late at night.
I know it’s part of the process,
But that doesn’t numb the pain,
If anything, the inevitably,
Makes it twice as agonizing.
I don’t tell her my worries,
I don’t want to see her cry,
For if she does,
I will,
And we’ll both be a mess.

She’s read my stories,
I haven’t sent her a poem,
Scared, and nervous,
About this side of me.
The part kept hidden,
Until the clacking of keys,
Not a fear of acceptance,
But a fear of worrying.

So for now,
While she’s here,
My sweet,
Mommom,
I’ll enjoy,
Your biscuits,
And your sweet tea.
I’ll push the dark thoughts away,
We’ll cross that bridge someday,
But that day is not today,
So I’ll push the dark thoughts away.

Grandparents,
How special,
How precious,
And finite.
How I love mine…

People are the strangest things
This world has ever seen.
Complicated to a fault,
More than any other living being.
Think of relationships,
The way people act towards each other,
Whether platonic or romantic,
Still so complicated.

I often wonder,
What makes a friend?
So I’ve compiled a list of attributes,
I’d consider favorable.
In an attempt,
To answer this question.

A friend should be someone who cares for you,
Someone who is mutually interested in you,
Who you are, and what you do,
And long to see you grow.
A friend should understand you,
And not judge, but be compassionate.
Is that too much to ask?
A friend should love you unconditionally,
Not necessarily romantically,
For just being you.

A friend shouldn’t make you feel ignored,
Alone, or insignificant.
Friendships shouldn’t tear at the slightest push of buttons,
Of events that occurred,
Years and years ago.
Friends shouldn’t say crude things that they know aren’t true,
To demean, or hurt,
The ones they’re supposed to care about.
A friend shouldn’t use or abuse,
Physically or emotionally,
That’s for enemies.

I watch people socialize,
Mainly the ones who are considered “popular” in my eyes.
I wonder,
What do they have that I’m missing?
I see them laugh, and smile with their friends,
And wonder,
Do they care about me like this?
Is there something wrong with me?
Did I do something wrong?
How did things change so quickly?
Was it something I didn’t see?

Watching the ship burn to the waters.
The captain doesn't run away.
The ones that made me laugh,
The ones I missed over summer vacation.
Did they ever think of me?
The ones I never fitted in with,
Things never clicked.
I always felt awkward and out of place.
Am I just overthinking?
Did all this time mean anything at all?
Was it a waste,
Was it a loss?
Did we ever form a connection,
Or was it just superstition?

My mother told me that throughout high school,
She didn’t really have any friends at all.
I don’t know how she made it,
If it was me,
I know I wouldn’t.
I would feel too alone.
Though looking at it,
Perhaps I’m in the same boat.

I remember a friend I had back in first grade.
The thing that makes him so memorable to me,
Is the fact that he would lie to my face,
So effortlessly,
And I partly believed,
Thank goodness he left by second grade.

If you’ve read “My Former Friend,”
You know about a relationship,
I relished when it ended.
It wasn’t a friendship,
But a parasitic relationship.
So much discontentment,
So much resentment.
The past is the past so it’s time to move past.
If there’s anything I learned of value,
Is that some people abuse for their own benefit,
A lesson I’d have to learn at some point.

I sense a sense of strain amongst my friends.
Things feel more awkward than they ever have before.
Two and a half more years to go.
Would I change some things, if I could do it all again?
Yes.
Could things be worse than what I’m currently experiencing?
Yes.
Does that make it any easier?
No.

It’s hard watching a good thing come to an end,
Especially when it was a large fraction of your childhood.
But naivete is gone,
I’ll see it like it is,
Whether I like it or not,
It’s a sinking ship.
I’ll enjoy what time I have left,
And ride it out till the end.

A friend shouldn’t run away,
And leave you behind,
Without a warning,
Or something to clear your mind.
Just tell me that we’re done,
That you’ve moved on,
So I can move on.

Here we are,
2025.
Feels weird to say,
But it’s here to stay.
Looking at the bigger picture,
I see,
That I don’t think a single person gets me.
Perhaps, I set my expectations too high,
Perhaps frivolous tomfoolery is the norm.
I’m more of the “get things done” kind of guy.
Perhaps, I’m too hard to get to know,
Perhaps, the journey’s not worth the reward.
All people see is a character that’s mundane,
Yet hidden in the pages,
Is a creative brain,
That, to most people,
Won’t see the light of day.
I think there’s one,
Maybe two,
That’s it.
The rest I’m not sure about,
They have their friends, who occupy their time.
Yet, it’s not that I don’t want to know them,
It’s that I’m scared,
To be rejected,
In the gutter.
So, like my mother did,
All those years ago,
I’ll sit back,
And watch the world turn,
On my own.
And wonder,
If out there,
Somewhere,
There’s people who’ll care for me,
The way I wish they would.
According to probability,
It’s nearly a statistical certainty.

A friend should make you feel heard,
And loved.
So that you don’t have to write a long poem,
About what you long for.

You never knew me before,
And you probably won’t care much afterward.
Nobody probably wants to hear what I have to say,
But just in case…

Am I good enough?
If I am then why don’t I feel like it at all?
Is feeling unworthy just another facet of existence?
Is a lack of self-worth just another problem to persist through?

I’ve always kept to myself.
Tried to hide the innermost parts of me,
Well protected by a wall.
That way, I keep myself safe.
But is it really safe?

Maybe I am too hard to get to know.
So people don’t even bother trying anymore.
Maybe that’s my own fault,
I wonder about that a lot.
Every now and then a person slips through the cracks,
And if I’m lucky I gain a new friend.
I’ve never had the best luck.
So I keep most people at a “safe” distance.
I don’t mind being alone,
But I hate feeling lonely.

I think I have a pretty boring personality,
After all, being smart isn’t a trait people adore.
Maybe that’s another problem with me.
Add it to the list.

Sometimes I wonder what my friends see in me.
I worry constantly about how I’m seen.
I feel so unworthy, for how lucky I’ve been.
Am I worthy?
After all, they had to try real hard to get me to do anything.
Is that someone they really want to be around?
My anxiety, it cripples me.
Sometimes I wish that it wasn’t so loud.

Sitting in the background of a classroom,
Makes me wonder if my presence changes a thing.
If I was gone, sick for a day, would anyone notice or say anything?
Probably not they have better things to do.
Maybe I am just a narcissist, add that to the list too.

Will anyone ever truly understand me?
Will I just be another person cast aside?
Will I just be forgotten?
Who can say?

Maybe I am just too sensitive,
Though I try to not let what people say affect me.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”
All lies to mask the pain.
Words hurt.
People couldn’t care less.

They say just to be yourself,
But what if yourself isn’t what is popular or wanted.
How long till the loneliness sinks in?
Perhaps it’s all just a big misunderstanding.
Maybe I should try being more open.

Always wondering, what do I not have that others do?
What makes me so mediocre?
Why can my friends be more social than I am?
What skills do they have that I don’t?
Why do I always feel so awkward?
Why do I always feel out of place?
Why do I always feel so lost?

There are things that I would love to say.
Certain words that would brighten up my day.
To someone I adore.
The effects those words may have would cause too much change.
So I’ll bite my tongue as I always do.
Pray and hope that the feeling washes through.

The overthinking mind is a blessing and a curse.
Creates so many fictitious scenarios.
All unnecessary, all compulsively,
No point in trying to stop it.
Anxiety doesn’t help the picture,
Always wondering if I’ve made a mistake.
Always fearing that I’ve pushed someone away.
Always thinking about what people think.
Always hating why I feel this way.

I don’t think I look the best.
I’d rate myself a four to a six out of ten.
Maybe that’s a bit too harsh.
Or maybe that’s a bit too nice.

The future is a scary thing.
Fearing I’ll lose everything.
Will I amount to anything?
Or will I be nothing?
Time will tell.
I’ll dread it until,
The future becomes the past.

I’ve grown scared to look people in the eye.
Silly, I know, but it's become a slight phobia of mine.
I look up, down, everywhere around,
Except in the eyes.
I’m trying to get better,
All I can do is try.

Everyday is about the same.
Prepare your mask to hide the pain.
Don’t let the dam break away.
Just smile and wave.
Am I okay?

Am I good enough?
Or are my friends just crazy?
Am I a good friend?
Or are my feelings going hazy?
Am I interesting at all?
Or is my perception of myself just flawed?
Should I feel proud?
Or should I just create a shroud?
Is the real me worth seeing?
I don’t know
I don’t know…

You didn’t know me before,
You probably still don’t know now.
Maybe though, you’d like to know.
That in this moment,
This specific moment,
That I’m writing this,
Or technically typing this,
I feel good enough.
Not because anybody told me.
Instead I told myself,
And I believe.
So maybe just maybe,
I am good enough…

A wolf,
All alone,
On his lonesome,
Waiting for prey…
Wondering if love,
Is worth the pain…
A sheep stranded far away,
From its herd,
The strangest sheep you’ve ever heard.

This one thinks for itself,
Despite the stereotype,
Of the mindless zombies.
This one thinks it’s something else,
The first of her kind,
Her childish pride.
Her herd says that love is a lie,
A double-edged sword,
A failing dance,
They advise against,
Searching for true love,
A foolish gambit.
She thinks she’ll break the mold,
Be something more than what she’s told,
But her beating heart will be her demise,
As the wolf takes its prize.

The wolf steps out from the forest,
With a coy look on his face,
The sheep is surprised,
And capsized.
She’s been thrown into the waves,
Her heart betrayed her in a million ways.
With a look of interest, she approaches,
As the wolf prepares his script,
He smiles and winks, checking the boxes,
As he licks his lips.

He says,
“Haven’t you heard,
About the predators,
That roam in these woods?
What’s a thing such as yourself,
Doing this far away,
From the herd?”

She says,
“I’m not afraid of danger,
I’m here to break the mold.
You don’t seem quite as scary,
As the elders foretold.
I find the flock a burden,
Following a fool’s lead,
I am an independent,
I’ll go where my heart and mind agree.”
The wolf smiles with glee,
His prey is his guaranteed.

The sheep notices scars,
One on his ear,
And one by his heart,
She empathizes and opens her own,
Ready to hear the stories unfold.

The wolf smiles and points at the one at his ear.
“This one’s from a coyote who cowered in fear.”
He pointed next to the one by his heart.
“My mom tried to tear me apart.”
The sheep’s soul aches and groans,
Feeling empathy for a wolf unknown,
Smiling softly she asks for his name.
“Anwir,” He says and bows his head.
“Amora,” She responds, bowing along.

Time moves on,
And the pair grow close.
Their love so strong,
It could be a blaze,
And turn the woods,
To an ashen decay.
If only it was,
More than a farce,
Made up by a wolf,
To lure his prey.
So he plays his part,
His life was a stage,
Waiting for the sacred day.

The wolf offers to walk the sheep,
To a place where silence would creep.
The sheep agrees,
Calls it a date,
The wolf smiles with glee,
Sealing the sheep’s fate.

He leads her along,
A stream and a meadow,
Where they got along,
And grew closer together,
All part of his master plan,
Buying time,
To lure her to her end.

He takes her to the precipice,
With nearby mighty cliffs,
The sheep stares into,
The starry night sky.
The wolf feels split in two,
Instinct or love,
He cannot decide.
He remembers his mom,
Who tried,
To eat him to survive.

He lunges,
She thrashes,
She cries,
Her last.
“Why?”
She asks him.
He bows his head,
Before pushing her body,
Of the face of the cliff…

He sits down and gazes at the moon,
So full,
So pure,
Upon instinct, he howls,
Then it clicks,
His actions make no sense.
He flashes back to the sheep.
Smile and eyes,
That pleased him so.
He thinks of her question,
“Why?”
He starts to cry.
Love at first sight,
Ended under a starry night,
With no reason why,
Thus, is played,
The game of life…

The hardest emotion to understand,
So much more than just holding hands,
How mesmerizing when done right,
Not when every night’s a fight.
It can last decades,
Or a matter of minutes,
Of course for those whose love is so short,
I think they don’t understand it.

Love is more than just a feeling,
It’s a promise,
A commitment,
A pact between two lovers,
To try their hardest to make things work.
You don’t just let it go,
When someone else catches your eye,
That just shows,
You weren’t ready for the next stage of your life.
It makes you scummy,
Immature,
At least to me.
And what you felt wasn’t love but what we call,
Infatuation.
You saw a pretty face,
And thought that meant forever,
Till you realized that,
There’s more fish in the river.
You didn’t care about personality,
Or charm,
Just a short-lived burst,
Of so-called “Love,”
Breaking more hearts than one.

Highschool’s the precipice,
Of people who don’t know what they’re doing,
I guess you have to learn somehow,
Or you could just bide your time and wait,
Save the slander and the drama,
And keep yourself from crashing down.
People together one day,
Broken up and bitter the next,
Could you even consider,
That a relationship?
What happened to commitment?
What in the world is going on?
Sometimes it feels,
Like I’m living in a breakup song.
There’s only so much empathy,
One can feel,
For those who do the same thing,
Over and over again,
Expecting something to change.

Some people are purely content,
To remain single,
Their whole lives.
I respect it,
But can’t understand it.
Do they ever feel lonely,
Like they want something more?
Or are they too scared,
To reach for the double-edged sword?
For fear of the cut,
Or the pain that follows,
Little do they know,
You can’t have one without the other.

Some people believe that love is just romantic,
So they misunderstand when people say to love one another,
Platonically exists,
And in some ways,
Blossoms brighter than the rest.
Just having a good friend,
Who’s there when no one else is,
That kind of relationship,
One of dreams…

Hollywood always shows,
Overly romantic couples making out in the hallway,
Overly romantic at least to me.
They say there’s about five different love languages,
I’d say I’m a mixture of a few.
I wouldn’t be one for touch,
Or one for getting excessive gifts.
I’d rather be a help,
And be reminded how much I mean,
With some words of affirmation,
And some quality time,
Sounds like peace to me.

There is one I adore,
There was another,
But the feelings faded,
And the others grew stronger.
However, like I did before,
I’ll bite my tongue,
And not say a word.
Waiting for the feelings,
To subdue.
To cowardly to confess,
How much they mean to me,
Too much overthinking,
About if they feel the same way towards me.
Why does this have to be so hard?
Rejection is a pain that leaves a nasty scar.
Is it worth it to take the risk?
Or better to kick myself later as the feeling friskily,
Leaves me?

I used to think love was overrated,
Especially at my age,
And while I still do,
Upon recent overview,
Of friendships,
And addition of loneliness,
I question,
My previous,
Motives.

I need someone who understands me,
Someone who cares for me,
Even on the days,
Where I don’t see,
What they love,
They stay…
They don’t run away,
Just cause it’s hard,
They stay beside me.
Someone patient,
Someone kind,
Someone willing,
To stand by my side.
Someone to inspire,
A book of their own.

I believe true love is out there,
You just have to be patient enough to keep looking,
Despite no results.
There’s someone out there,
For you…
Probability almost guarantees it,
There are billions of people on this blue planet.
A lot who are lonely,
And looking,
For you…

I’ll never understand,
How some people confuse,
Abuse and misuse,
For love.
The people who take it,
Too nice and too forgiving,
And sometimes have nowhere to go.
The world would be a better place,
If the abusers and misusers,
Were erased…

Despite what I’ve said,
About immaturity and scumminess,
Yes, I understand,
Sometimes it’s just not meant to be.
But when people go around,
And do the same charade again,
Empathy dies,
Replaced with karma,
Who never lies…

There’s a rant from a poet,
Who wants a feeling he doesn’t fully understand.
Yet he longs for it,
Hoping it finds him,
He’s reaching out his hand,
Waiting,
For someone to take it,
And tell him that they love him,
For who he is,
All of it,
The good,
The bad,
And the ugly,
Because the truth is I’m a mess.
That is what true love is,
Unconditional,
And so,
So hard,
To find,
Amidst a pile,
Of broken,
Bitter,
Hearts.

When people ask my favorite color,
I often say red or green,
And while I adore them,
It’s a lie.
Then after the conversation,
I wonder, “Why?”
Why did I lie?
What point did it serve?
I question and question,
And this is what I can confirm.

I’m afraid,
Afraid of being judged.
Afraid of the pointed fingers,
And the laughs.
Afraid of being shunned.
Afraid of the chastisement,
And the thought of being outcast.
Why so many fears,
Stem from something so trivial?
I couldn’t answer,
It makes no sense!
Yet something so small,
Feels so consequential,
Making a mountain,
Out of a molehill.
Seems to be my speciality,
Unfortunately.

Perhaps it’s a lack of self-confidence,
So I’m bound to hide any part of me.
That way if I get insulted,
They aren’t addressing me,
Just whatever I told them,
I control the narrative.
How long can one accept,
Living their lives as someone else?
It would feel more freeing,
To stop the lies,
And tell the truth,
But is it worth the risk?
Is the exposure worth the glamour?
Is it worth…
Being me?

I remember when we all had to wear masks,
I hated it.
Yet when the main force of Covid passed,
I kept it on.
Slightly suffocating,
******* all personality,
‘Til I’m nothing,
More than,
Another face,
People pass,
Perhaps a glance,
If I’m lucky.
It’s not as simple,
As just taking the mask off,
If it was,
Do you think I would’ve kept it on?

Trapped in an overthinking mind,
Thought circling,
Swimming fast through the ocean,
No chance of escaping.
The sharks are hungry,
Ready to fill me,
With doubt,
Concern,
A lack of self-worth,
And the biggie,
Anxiety.
If I try to swim away,
I’ll be eaten alive,
Torn apart,
From the inside out.
So at least for now,
My mind is a prison and I’m never gonna get out…

Last year around my birthday,
I wrote a poem similar to this,
Titled “Am I Good Enough?”
A simple question.
I came to the conclusion that I am,
But if I hide, inside,
Is that really living life?

Some lessons that I’ve learned,
Sometimes it’s best to walk the road alone,
The road less traveled,
The road no one else goes,
But the one which will lead you home.
People aren’t always reliable,
Me included,
It’s guaranteed,
Eventually,
They’ll let you down.
And it will hurt you,
When they do,
But they’re human too.
Who make mistakes,
And have regrets,
Filled with stress,
And aren’t perfection,
Despite what they may say.

I often think,
And dread,
What people think of me,
A broken tragic thought,
Excessively haunting.
I think the consensus is,
I’m a stuck-up, narcissist,
Trapped in my own head.
They wouldn’t be entirely wrong,
But I swear,
That’s not me…
I fear that people think I’m too good for them,
So they don’t even bother to connect,
That feeling spreads, and before you know it,
There’s no one left.
In reality,
I’m not that great,
Subpar, at best,
Scraping by with gifts,
I misuse and don’t understand.

I’m painfully introverted,
My shell is very comfortable,
What’s not to love?
Then the loneliness creeps in,
And while I may be satisfied with myself,
People need connection.
Though I don’t need as much as most,
I still need connection.
Yet, I fear,
There’s few who get me,
For me.

I try not to be a pleaser,
But when you’re desperate,
And given attention,
You’d be a fool not to accept it.
Yet, most don’t have the purest intentions,
And abuse,
And misuse,
The kindness they’re given.

I’m tired of sitting in my tower,
Watching from my balcony as others shine,
Questioning if I could do the same,
If I could be half as bright.
As they say,
Sometimes you have to make a leap of faith.
So I will,
I’ll fall,
Not caring what’s below.
Isn’t it better,
To be yourself,
Rather than die a character?
I’ll land on my feet,
And run to the rest,
To prove that I’m worth,
To be in their presence.

So sayonara, somber sorrows,
Farewell, fleeting fear,
Attack, anticipatory anxiety,
And believe,
Things will be fine.
I hope you see,
That the simplest things to confess,
To the overthinking mind,
Can tear me to pieces,
With nothing left to find.

I’ll be myself,
For all I can be, is me,
And though sometimes I may despise me,
I wouldn’t want to be anyone else.
So…
My name is Reece Allen Ellison,
And my favorite color is…
Pink

Reece means enthusiasm,
Enthusiasm I rarely feel.
When it comes to most things,
The emotion is fear.
I wonder if it is a coincidence,
Why, I am named this name.
Or if there’s a reason,
Why, I think this way.
For something to entice me,
It better be something really good.
Most things that look like
Fun I don’t like to do
And I get misunderstood.
Sports sounds just awful,
Something I wouldn’t enjoy
I’m not much of a competitor,
They are just a lot of noise.
I don’t say what’s on my mind,
As often as I should, for
Fear of being misunderstood.
But writing, oh writing,
It’s easier to put down
What I think, Me,
Reece Ellison, the anxious
Boy with a world inside his head.
Huh, I guess there is some
Enthusiasm hidden deep down
After all…

The voice that’s rarely heard,
Not outspoken,
Or outgoing enough.
The one who watches the clock,
To see the seconds turn to minutes,
To hours, to days,
Before you know it a year’s gone by.

I have a few things to get off my chest,
Perhaps it would be best.

There are people whose voice is loud,
You can tell them out of the crowd.
Some commanding, others obnoxious,
Others are demanding, and some are boisterous.
I never understood the appeal.
But if one thing is clear,
It’s that they’re confident,
For better or worse,
I just hope they aren’t full of themselves.
As per most things,
Advantageous in moderation.
Too much noise can drive one insane.
But there are highlights too,
Most leaders tend to be loud,
And I think they should.

Then there are people like me,
Quiet, but not dead silent.
Some call us mysteries,
Others find an opportunity to batter someone,
Who they know won’t talk back.
The quiet ones can be seen as arrogant,
Some think we say we’re better in every way,
Far from the truth.
Most of the time when I’m quiet,
It’s because I have nothing to say.
Or I have but I don’t think it’s important.
Don’t understand,
How some say whatever crosses their minds.
Mine bounces off the walls,
Filled with dashing, flashing thoughts.
“Are they judging me?”
“Do they even care at all?”
“What are they thinking about?”
“Am I making a fool of myself?”
“Can I connect with anyone else?”
These thoughts and more,
Rattle on despite no encore.

Apathy’s a dangerous thing,
Not caring or feeling anything.
Sometimes that’s why I don’t speak.
Wandering,
In endless wondering…
Wanderlust,
But where to go?

While most, state their opinions aloud.
I don’t.
Why risk the chance of mockery,
If you don’t have to?
People can be cruel,
Crueler than they realize,
At the time.
I keep my opinions in my head,
Where they fit best.

Sometimes I wonder:
Do people think about what they say,
Before they say it?
Sometimes it feels like,
They just preach what’s on their mind,
Without a thought behind their eyes.
They want to be seen,
To shine,
They want to be heard,
In the Broadway spotlights.
And those two desires,
Trump mostly everything else,
And add fuel to their fire,
Causing them to burn even brighter.

I take my thoughts,
To the page,
Where it’s quiet,
And all my thoughts can flow freely,
Without any pesky blockages.
How freeing,
Yet, how fleeting.

I’ve said what I wanted to say.
Shouted as loud as I could,
Through the noisy maelstrom.
I hope you heard,
What this silent voice had,
Bouncing in his brain…

When you’re a beggar,
You take what you can get,
Even if it’s moldy,
Corrosive,
Acidic,
Or rotten,
You take it.
Cause you don’t know,
When your next meal is,
Could be a week,
Or a month,
You just pray that this slop,
Holds you over.

When you’re a beggar,
You can waltz around the town,
Find a place to settle down,
With your broken tin can.
You sit on the corners of the blocks,
Trying your hardest to cause,
Someone to notice your cause.
You’ll find,
People spend a lot of time,
In their own minds,
Meanwhile, you’re starving,
And running out of time.
When you’re a beggar,
And someone reaches out their hand,
You take it,
Even if they throw you to the ground,
You take it.
At least they paid attention,
Even with their misguided intentions,
All you wanted was attention,
So you take it.

When you’re a beggar,
And you see strangers in love,
You wonder,
How that feels,
And if,
Someone,
Could love someone like you.
You walk,
With your fragile shoes,
To the park,
Imagining the blues,
As the sun,
Fades away to many hues.
And you sit,
Underneath your bench,
Your friend,
And you wonder why,
This is your life.
The birds,
Sing their songs to cheer you up,
And at night the crickets do the same,
They just want to see your smile.

When you’re a beggar,
You know people can lie,
And they do it all the time,
To your face,
Or behind,
Your back.
Everyone hides their true intentions,
Behind a mask.

When you’re a beggar,
You’re not the best judge of character,
Your desperation blinds your sight.
Once you’re noticed,
By a person,
You grab on,
And don’t let go.
They may ignore you,
Defame you,
Bully you,
Torture you,
But you stay loyal.
You don’t want to be the villain of the story,
To the person who noticed you were there,
So you stay by their side,
Even when they don’t deserve your care.
How their words can sting.

When you’re a beggar,
Living in your cardboard box,
Inside you’ll bubble,
Where you’d like to remain,
Untouched.
But your body,
Fights against you,
Knowing,
You need someone,
To notice,
That you’re suffering.
You fight every morn,
A battle filled with scorn,
Mostly toward,
Yourself.

When you’re a beggar,
You know you’re at the bottom,
Never stopping,
Your plummet,
To the cold, hard ground.
You pray that someone sees you,
And will reach out their hand to catch you,
Yet you keep falling faster,
With no end in sight.
It’s hard to keep the guise up,
That you are doing fine, but,
You play,
Your role,
Cause life’s a stage.
When you’re a beggar,
Sometimes you just feel down,
You don’t know how,
To stop it,
So you wait.
You know,
Sometimes, it’s okay,
To cry,
So you wait,
And let it out.
Yet others,
Seem determined,
To break you down,
They see you’re broken,
So why not break you more?
I get sick and tired of,
People telling others,
How to live,
Like they know what they’re doing,
They’re lying.
Life can be pulled out from under you,
Just like a carpet,
No one’s a pro at living life,
We just take it a day at a time.

When you’re a beggar,
Sometimes you wonder,
If your problems are noticeable,
Or not.
Then someone,
Walks to your cardboard home,
Takes your hand,
Pulls you up,
Cleans your face,
And gives you twenty bucks.
“I saw you looked sad.
I’m new to the neighborhood,
And I wanted you to know that,
I see you,
And I’m here.
Here’s another,
Twenty dollars.
Actually,
You know what?
Come with me,
Let’s go out to eat,
On me.”
It’s that the best feeling?
Yet, like the setting sun,
And the passage of time,
You blink once,
And they’re gone.
No one knows,
How it feels to be,
On the bottom,
With no ladder to climb up.
With that forty dollars,
And your stomach filled,
You decide, tonight,
To not give up.
Sometimes, I feel like a beggar,
Screaming, taunting,
For fleeting love.
So I’m waiting,
For life to work itself out
People have their goals and desires,
Would you like to know mine?
Contentment.

When you’re a beggar,
You know the greatest treasure,
That’s getting rarer,
Is simply a loyal friend…

There was an old cat lady,
Everyone thought she was crazy.
Who needs ten cats?
Didn’t care for her reasoning,
Too busy judging,
They didn’t care that,
Her husband had died,
And she was keeping his memory alive.

While the adults kept their distance,
The kids of the neighborhood were fascinated,
Especially the cat lovers,
Though the dog lovers were interested too.
She would sit on her front porch,
Smile and wave,
And on summer days,
Make the children lemonade.
She would tell them stories,
Of her adventures on this Earth,
Their imaginations running rampant,
From her descriptions.
They would listen,
To both her and the cats they would be petting,
And hear their purring.
Those were the happier times.

Over the years,
The old cat lady,
Grew even older,
And moved slower.
Yet she still sat on the porch,
Greeting the kids that walked by.
When they saw her smile,
Their worries and anxieties were left far behind.
Her lemonade, divine,
Along with her key lime pie,
Dining to die for.

She remembered each child’s name,
And would even give the gifts for Christmas,
She didn’t want to see them sad,
They were just kids,
And life hadn’t started yet,
For them.

She rocked on her rocking chair,
Cats sitting everywhere,
Purring contently,
As was the old cat lady,
Enjoying every moment,
Though her lover was long gone,
She found a new purpose,
And her sorrows passed on.

The kids were now in high school,
Still visited every now and then,
To brief her on their lives,
How she valued that time.
They were all so different,
Each student was unique,
With their own special interests,
She prayed that they would succeed.
On Christmas Day,
They surprised the old cat lady,
With a gift from each of the former kids,
Scarfs and mittens,
Chocolates,
And blankets,
And even sweaters for the cats.
The old cat lady cried happy tears,
For the first time in her life.
She was content,
She felt alive.

Then as summer showed its face,
One blistering day,
The old cat lady,
Wasn’t rocking on her porch,
The cats weren’t purring on her lap.
There weren’t any sounds coming from the house,
The lights were off.
The students broke the front door down,
And searched the house.

They found her on her bed,
Surrounded by,
Her furry friends,
They were snuggling,
Wishing,
Their owner would awake,
But she was dead.
She had gone,
In her sleep,
Peacefully.
The students cried,
As they dialed,
The police,
They took her body away,
Much to her cats’ dismay.

The funeral was rough,
Adults not feeling bad enough,
For they had been too afraid,
To get to know the old cat lady.
The students cried,
And covered their eyes,
They couldn’t believe,
She had died.

The students would take turns,
Going to her humble abode,
To feed her cats,
Since nobody wanted them,
Not that they wanted to leave their home.
Yet, when they went inside,
With food in hand,
They were surprised,
To find,
The cat bowls filled with food,
And lemonade prepared.
She figured it was,
The least that she could do,
To ease their hurting minds…

A Poem By: Reece Ellison

Demons,
Everyone has them, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
As the tears flow,
And their heart begins to open,
You’ll realize.
That part of being human,
Is suffering behind a smile.

Your head can tell you many things,
Not all of it is true,
But you’ll convince yourself,
That there’s nothing you can do.
Your mind can be your greatest friend,
Or your greatest foe,
A pain people can try to relate to,
But it’s one only you’ll truly know.

Pain,
Everybody has it, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
As the tears start to flow,
And their heart begins to open,
You’ll realize,
That part of being human,
Is crying yourself to sleep at night.

Sometimes when you open up,
And you try to explain the abstraction of your pain,
People tend to take it,
Laugh at it,
Break it into pieces,
And wonder why you’re hurt.
People can be cruel,
They leech off of each other all the time,
Harm someone for the benefit of themselves,
Never understanding the other side of their actions.

Scars,
Everybody has them, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
As the tears start flowing,
And their heart starts opening,
You’ll realize,
That part of being human,
Is masking anguish inside.

I think I have a wound deep down,
I don’t know where it is,
But I know it hurts.
I see things more pessimistically than I did a few years before.
Maybe that’s just cause I’m changing,
If so I wish it would’ve stayed the way it was before.
Sometimes I wonder if my presence changes a thing.
If I were gone, would it matter at all?
For a day, or a week, or a month, does it make a difference at all?
Perhaps that’s a stupid thought to wonder.
I’m no longer fooled when people try to act nice.
I see them for what they are,
A wolf in sheep’s clothing,
Trying to hurt an aching soul to save their own.

Fears,
Everybody has one, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
As the tears pool dripping,
And their heart starts breaking,
You’ll realize,
That being human,
Is being afraid of what tomorrow will bring.

This may sound foolish,
And I know it is,
But I’m afraid of change,
Chronically afraid.
May be why I’m so anxious,
Watching things speed by so quick,
Whilst I’m left wondering:
Where did it all go?
I think I’m rather boring,
And nobody knows me better than me.
Introducing the fear of being alone,
Praying it doesn’t end up becoming real.

Demons,
Everyone has them, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
And as my tears start flowing,
And my heart begins to open,
I hope you’ll realize,
That part of being human,
Is filled with pain and strife,
And sometimes,
Feels harder than it’s worth.

To those who complain about the mundane,
It’s just your paradigm changing your fate.
I hope you realize before it’s too late,
That being miserable isn’t a fun game.

Don’t you understand that the mundane,
Will be most of your existence,
Not every day,
Is filled with endless enjoyment and stimulus.
Some days are just meh,
That’s how the game is played.
It’s such a waste of your breath,
To complain.

“I’m tired!”
So am I.
Of listening to your endless whining,
About how today’s the worst day of your life.
You’ll survive.
I swear,
You’ll be fine.
Your complaining is so degrading,
And depriving me of life.

“I don’t want to be here!”
Neither do I.
I don’t want to listen to you speak one more time.
To hear another ungrateful leave your mind.
Do you not realize how lucky you are to be alive?
Breathe, take it in,
Just don’t make me sit through it again.

“I’m bored!”
That’s good!
You’ll learn that sometimes things aren’t always as interesting,
As you think they should.
Why does the world have to entertain you?
Why can’t you just be satisfied?
Why must you spiel your discontentment?
I’ve found that can lead to resentment…

Don’t you see that the mundane,
Can be beautiful in its own way?
Those days where you have no plans,
Whatever happens happens,
And that’s okay.
The simple days,
Where things don’t feel so complicated,
Or frustrating,
Yet you find a way to keep complaining!

It makes me feel like I’m going crazy!
If you can’t beat them, join them.
But if I did,
I would go against the theme of this poem.
Complaining is such a waste of words,
And time.
Is it worth it,
To waste it,
On that?
I’d say that it isn’t.

Count your blessings.
If you can’t think of anything,
Then you better think harder.
There’s always something,
That anyone can be thankful for.
It’s feels a lot more gratifying,
Than just incessant complaining.
I’ve got my mom and my dad,
The ones who make sure my head’s ******* on just right,
Who keep me in the fight.

Don’t you ever get tired,
Of saying the same old things?
Of complaining,
About what everyone already thinks?
Are you that unoriginal,
Uninspired, and bland,
That you can’t see the beauty,
In your hands?

I hope you get a good night’s sleep,
You’ll need it,
When you find that tomorrow’s just today,
With a different name.
And I know,
You’ll complain again,
To your friends,
And they’ll do the same.
I hope when you’re older,
You’ll see,
That this life is what you make it.
No one said it was easy,
So we have to keep pushing through it.
Your complaining adds nothing,
But fuel to the fire,
If only you could see it,
If you weren’t blinded by your ire.

To those who complain about the mundane,
I know that some days,
May be filled with hate,
Or pain,
But it’s not a good aim,
To wish your life away.

I’ve got a few more things to say,
More thoughts have fluttered into my brain,
And even if it may be slightly trite,
I’m going to give you another piece of my mind.

How I adore the sound of rain.
Pitter-patter,
On my window at night.
However, when the rain gets on me,
I become the Wicked Witch of The West,
And start to melt.
The rain relaxes me,
Puts my ever-sprinting mind at ease.
Snuggled underneath the covers,
In my comfy bed,
Shows that even on the stormy nights,
There’s something to be thankful for.

My music taste has evolved,
As most everything else has,
I guess it was inevitable,
To broaden my horizons.
I was raised on Reba,
My mother made sure of that.
I’ll give credit where it’s due,
She’s a stunning singer,
And her songs touch the heart,
But I’ve found another,
Who, for me,
Fans the same spark.
His name is Alec Benjamin,
I’ve quoted his song in a poem once before,
Rarely can you find a musician,
Where every song you adore.
I haven’t heard every piece of art he’s created,
But from what I’ve heard,
They’re very relatable, meaningful songs,
Which are filled with impactful words.
He’s an amazing lyricist,
Who, to my knowledge, writes all his own songs,
Here’s a sample,
From a track titled “Hipocrite,”
Yes, titled just like that.

“It's hip to be a hipocrite, well, that's how it goes
Saying and portraying things, but only for show
They talk, throw rocks
Living in a mansion that they made out of glass
Always throwing tantrums, always getting a pass
All talk, they don't stop.”
And here’s the chorus:
“All these pompous fools,
With their broken rules,
And their noses in the air,
Keep pretending that they care.
All these stubborn mules,
Went to fancy schools,
But the only thing they learned to do is talk.”

Some of the music I like,
Doesn’t even have any lyrics at all.
Just a light somber melody,
To take me to serenity.
It’s in those moments,
Where my mind is clear,
That I treasure,
All I hold dear.

As much as I fear the future,
And which direction, of the countless, it could go.
I’d be lying if I said,
I wasn’t curious to see where it goes.
Where I’ll be,
Ten,
Twenty,
Thirty years from now,
Nobody knows.
On the bucket list,
Is to be invited onto a talk show.
Fate is uncertain,
That’s precisely why I fear it,
Yet, there’s a beauty to the undetermined.
Funny how that is.

I’m very impatient,
That’s a negative trait I’ll admit,
However, I understand,
That patience has its benefits.
Impulsivity leads to mistakes,
While patience leads to mastery.
Patience leads to understanding,
While impetuousness leads to travesty.
Waiting makes me feel,
That fleeting time is wasting,
We don’t have forever,
And our presence is always fading.
Yet, breathing in and out,
And taking a moment to rest,
Reconfigure, reassess,
Is the best form of reconciliation,
The body can get.

Another poem written,
A set of words said.
Another view of the world,
Hidden in my head.
Another random word,
To help me rhyme.
Another,
Piece of my mind.

Words,
How powerful and distinguished they can be,
But, when in the hands of the enemy,
Become slimy, coarse, static and sloppy.
The old saying goes:
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”
I believe that’s not the truth,
And that words can leave bruises,
Break hearts, and leave scars,
Corrode and erode,
Till there’s nothing but calamity.

How quick one is to insult another,
With not a thought on the consequences of speech.
Is it purely ignorance?
Or a lack of decency?
Morality’s gone out the window,
Only hatred remains,
Or at least that’s all it seems,
Few eyes in the overwhelming hurricane.
What happened to kindness?
What happened to peace on earth?
It seems to me, everywhere you look,
A new conflict has emerged.

Language can be so beautiful,
When presented to people who are good.
Not the ones who say the same crude words,
Over and over,
I won’t spell them out,
For they’re repulsive.
Have they little shame?
Or perhaps they don’t care?
Who they cut with their words,
As they fly through the air.
It’s sad when to insult seems standard,
And being kind is an extraordinary phenomenon.
It makes me wonder,
What planet am I living on?

My favorite,
Which means I hate it,
Is when people say a certain two words.
“**** yourself…”
How could they be so cruel!?
To wish the end of someone else’s life!
They say it so thoughtlessly,
Without a care in their ignorant, daft minds!
But they’re joking so that makes it okay!?
I think they forget that a joke is supposed to be funny!
What’s funny about wishing for somebody to die?
What sociopathic, narcissistic person,
Thinks that’s funny?
What if who they said it to was suffering?
What if what they said,
Confirmed every sickening, tragic thought,
In their head?
What if that following night,
They took the *****’s advice,
And didn’t show up at school the next day?
Would they feel ashamed?
Or would they even cry?
At the fact that their words,
Caused someone to die?

I’m not saying I’m perfect,
Farthest from it.
But I am careful to choose my words,
Before they leave my head.
Let me tell you a few truths.
Not every opinion you have needs to be shared.
Not every thought you have needs to be said.
Not every observation about someone else needs to be uttered.
Not every harsh comment needs to be spoken.
Some things are best left unsaid.
Sometimes it’s best to just stay silent.
Sometimes it’s best to remain quiet.
Because your words are weapons,
Your words are swords.
Wield them wisely,
Or are you unworthy?
To use this language,
So complex and enigmatic.

Words,
Can mean the difference between life and death,
Joy and chaos,
Love and hate,
Words carry a lot of weight.
Think about what you say,
Before those thoughts escape your brain,
Please,
The last thing we need,
Is more hate in this life.

If I could change the world,
It’d be different that’s for sure,
I won’t tell you what I’d change,
But a couple would be made.
You wouldn’t notice it right away,
Attention would have to be paid.

Would I be the hero?
From a certain point of view.
Would I be a villain?
Perhaps, anything could be true.
I tend to sympathize,
And empathize,
With ones whose chance,
At a good life,
Is taken away.

Would I be the savior?
Don’t give me all the credit.
Would I be the enemy?
Certainly, to some.
Sometimes it’s hard to walk the middle line,
Not knowing if you’re wrong or right.
People try to say it’s just black and white,
But the truth is,
It’s more nuanced,
And scuffed,
With consequences,
So sometimes it’s better just to walk the middle line.
Occasionally, you have to stand and fight.

The hill I will die on,
Is that violence is a double-edged sword.
Does it solve anything,
Or does it only make things worse?
I can see it either way.
So much petty fighting,
All for nothing,
Worth attacking,
Or defending,
Filled with lying,
And deceiving.
So if I could change the world,
This would be something I would change.

Is it just me,
Or does it seem,
That compassion,
Is few and far between?
Decency,
A relic of the past,
Replaced with,
Tribal attacks,
On appearance,
Personality,
Demeanour,
And morality.
Such a waste of time…
Why can’t we just accept,
That everyone is different,
Instead of constantly,
Judging?
Would it be so hard,
To stop arguing,
And fix problems,
Instead of causing more?
If I could change the world…

With all the people in the world,
I see no excuse,
Why so many people feel alone,
It’s absurd!
Whether out of fear,
Or a laugh of faith in oneself,
So many people,
Experience loneliness,
Potential relationships laid to waste.
As with most things,
More nuanced than it seems,
But sometimes I can’t help but wonder,
Could things be better?

And I know,
Things are the way they are for a reason,
But my beating heart,
Wishes for things to be different.
However, with little say,
Besides on the page,
All these thoughts,
Snuffed out and remain,
Out of the light of day…

If I could change the world,
Changes would be made,
Perhaps you’d notice,
Or you’d think they’re still the same.
I can imagine a world,
Free from pain and strife.
But I know,
Without hardship, there’s no growth,
The dark days magnify the light,
Without consequence, for decisions,
Things would break.
Sometimes the hardest thing to cope with,
Is the world’s imperfections,
But in the same vein,
Is the fact,
The world is what you make.
So perhaps what needs to be changed,
Is the view we place,
On our lives,
And our strifes,
And maybe then…

We could change the world…

The soldier and the poet,
Didn’t know it,
But their fates were intertwined.
Since they were younger,
Filled with vigor,
They attracted each other’s eyes.
It didn’t take long,
Till they were husband and wife,
Together, forever,
For life.

Then the bombs fell,
And the war began,
And the husband,
Had to go away.
He promised his country his life.
Though the poet pled,
It didn’t make,
A difference,
And he went either way.

The poet grabbed her pen,
As her husband trained for war,
She perfected her craft,
As her husband broke his back,
Figuratively,
With all of the attacks,
He was a part of.

She sold her poems,
Of her pain and loss,
And how she saw the world around her.
Her discontentment,
Her resentments,
And the thoughts that flew in her head.
She made a pretty penny,
But it didn’t fix the problem,
Her lover was across the sea.
But she prepared her poems,
To sing to her husband,
To ease his pained mind.

He was deployed to a war-torn city,
Paratrooper,
With parachutes,
Praying not to be shot before you hit the ground.
They had the advantage,
But the forces were stronger than they thought,
And they had heavy losses.
He lost his whole battalion.

Later he came back,
Into her loving arms,
But he wasn’t the same,
At all.
He was more quiet,
Less excited,
As he processed his pain.
He cried,
And she held him tight,
And every night,
She sang to him, lit by the moonlight.
Her favorite was one called,
“My Hero”

“Fighting amidst chaos,
Takes strength beyond belief,
And requires,
Some sacred reprieve.
I’ll hold you close,
Tell you everything’s alright,
I may not be able to change the past,
But that’s fine.
Let the memories fade away,
Don’t forget them,
But don’t let them take control of your brain.
My hero,
My lover,
My husband,
My all in all,
My everything,
My comforter.
Don’t push me away.
On your worst days,
I’ll be your hero,
Like you are mine…”

The soldier fell to tears,
Overcome by grief,
Heart filled with fears,
Wishing for reprieve.
His lover held him close,
He cried into her sleeve,
She asked him, softly,
“Won’t you tell me?”
“It’ll hurt you!” He said.
“I’ve been waiting!”
He cleared his throat,
Lifted his head,
Dried his eyes,
And mourned the dead,
He told her what,
Was in his head.
His choices filled,
With love instead,
Of pain.

She held his face,
And kissed his cheek,
And took her pen,
And wrote down,
All that he said,
Every word,
The saddest tale,
She ever heard.

But he knew,
He was safe,
In her arms,
Far away,
From bombs, and the shots,
And the blood, and the guns.
None of that,
Was here with him,
Just his wife,
His closest friend.

The soldier and the poet,
Didn’t know it,
But their fates were intertwined…

Four distinct seasons,
Each with their own beauty,
Ambiance, weather, and color,
All for us to enjoy.

I must admit,
Winter’s my favorite.
I like feeling cold,
Not freezing cold,
But cold enough so that when you encompass yourself with blankets,
You feel the comforting warmth of home.
I love the look of the planet,
Underneath a blanket of snow,
The smoothness of the white,
Prettier at night.
The snow as it falls,
Gorgeous as well,
Everywhere you look,
A painting could be painted,
And the beauty would be upheld.
Snowmen on the lawns,
The festive season,
What’s not to love?
Hot chocolate by a fire,
Tales of reindeer flying high in the sky,
All these reasons are why,
Winter’s my favorite.

Followed close behind in both timing and rank,
Springtime.
The weather looks nicer,
The flowers bloom once more,
The rain may seem inconvenient,
But it’s something to be thankful for.
The pitter-patter on my window at night,
Makes me feel,
For a moment,
That everything’s alright.
Don’t forget the flowers,
Of many shades of colors,
How I look forward,
To when the Indian Paintbrushes grow.
Sunflowers,
Irises,
Roses,
Daisies,
And all the others,
Makes the season more special,
Nature’s a wondrous thing.

Now comes the one I least adore,
But still, I know,
It has its strengths.
Summertime,
Is my least favorite.
I’ve never liked the heat,
Especially when it exceeds a hundred degrees,
That’s a bit excessive to me.
It’s the time,
To hit the beach,
To be at peace,
I can practically hear the waves.
Vacations typically wait till this time of year.
Fireworks,
In America,
The booms,
Something to behold.
The weather,
While not ideal for me,
Is still wondrous to see.
Maybe in my later years,
I’ll appreciate the beauty of summer.

Last but not least,
Fall or autumn is third on the list.
Things cool down,
Leaves fall down,
From their trees.
Reds,
Oranges,
Yellows,
And browns,
Litter the grown,
Entrancing the eyes.
They’re something to see,
But not worth to speed.
The crunch beneath your feet,
The air blows deep through the trees.
Halloween,
And the Thanksgiving feast.
Bliss at the finest degree.



The Earth isn’t the only thing,
That goes through seasons,
Life does the same.
Some seasons are dark,
Without a light in sight,
But it’s there,
It’s always there.
Other seasons a filled with joy,
Take those in,
Enjoy the moment,
Because for better or worse,
Like the seasons of the Earth,
It always comes to pass.

Sometimes I feel like an alien,
Flying in my little spaceship,
Searching for a place to call my home,
Somewhere to call my own.
I must be from another planet.
What’s normal here,
Isn’t normal to me,
It fills me with fear,
That abnormality,
Isn’t so strange anymore,
How horrid.

Spite and strife,
Common friends,
Together until the end.
Such cruelty,
The normality,
Of hate and evil glee,
At the sacrifice of someone’s purity.

I know humor is subjective,
But I think objectively,
Some things are just not funny,
And shouldn’t have jokes made to laugh at.
Is that so revolutionary?

Does it ever seem to you,
That people are becoming crueler?
Is it just me?
I hope I’m wrong.
Video after video,
Of people whining and complaining,
And screaming at the waiter,
Cause they didn’t get,
The correct,
Amount of the condiment they ordered.
Fights in the streets,
Over petty disagreements.
Road rage at an all-time high,
Why?
People make mistakes,
They do it all the time,
**** it up,
Grow up,
And move on with your life!

I wonder,
What planet I came from,
Cause it sure wasn’t here.
That could be,
The reason,
Why I feel no one gets me,
We are two different species….


Society just loves to complain,
About how things aren’t that great,
But instead of changing anything,
They’ll just complain.
Always putting someone down,
To push them up,
The cowards!
Always easier to hurt another,
When you can’t look in their eyes.
Type your hatred down,
Send it in an instant,
Can’t take it back,
Don’t feel regret now.

I question,
My origin,
Because I refuse to believe,
That I am,
A part,
Of whatever we try to be…

I’ll put a drop in the bucket,
In the hope that,
Kindness will overflow,
And overthrow,
The darkness,
One day…

Sometimes I feel like an alien,
Looking for a home,
Somewhere to call my own…

A hero may wear a cape,
But that doesn’t mean they’re Superman,
They all pale in comparison,
Just another human,
Whether a man or a woman,
Their motives hidden behind their ribbons
Trying to make the world a better place.

A hero may preach peace,
But that doesn’t mean they believe it,
Often it’s just about their image.
The war must go on,
Never will everyone be happy,
There’s too much to complain about,
To be ungrateful about,
To not see the beauty of the planet we call home.
The hero may say they are against this complaining,
Yet, you see them in the streets doing the exact same thing.

Never meet your heroes,
You realize how much you inflated their heroics,
When you meet them in person,
You see how, perhaps, they weren’t a hero at all.
They aren’t a villain,
Just not a hero,
Not what you originally believe,
Yet you convinced yourself they were perfect.
Perfection is a losing game.

What makes a hero?
What makes someone noble?
Or have honor?
Or courage?
People love to play these roles,
Put them on like a wolf in sheep’s clothing,
You can always spot a fake,
They just feel disingenuous.
How can you have honor,
And preach your mantra,
Yet cut in the lunch line,
Like you’re better than all of the rest behind you?
That’s not honor!
That’s being a two-faced dishonorable fraud!
Like so many people,
Who wear the “honorable” facade.

I wouldn’t call myself honorable,
I’ve done things I’m not proud of,
Made mistakes I regret,
Have demons in my heart,
Who remind me where I misstep.
I refuse to identify,
As something I’m not,
It makes me feel icky,
Dishonest, and like a fraud.
Who relishes this feeling,
Of lying for qualities they don’t have?
What do you gain?
Recognition?
Fame?
All temporary in the grand scheme of the game.

A hero isn’t pure,
They’ve done things they despise themselves for,
Yet they try their best,
To not make the same mistake again.
They try to make a change,
Instead of complaining!

A hero isn’t good,
Or great,
And certainly not extraordinary,
They’re decent,
Down to earth,
Understanding of their faults,
Yet they push forward anyway.
They try to please people,
Not worth their time,
All in an effort,
To see them smile.
They try to save people,
To far gone to save,
Yet, they try anyway,
For they can’t accept,
That some people can’t be saved,
And are lost in the darkness.

Nobility,
Not kings or queens,
But high standards and ideas,
Yet to be expressed,
They haven’t found the words.
A hero has morals,
One’s that won’t change,
Based on who they talk to,
Their code remains the same.
That’s what takes honor,
That’s what takes strength,
Being yourself despite the gremlins,
And the goblins,
And the orcs,
Being yourself,
No matter who’s watching.
“With integrity and honor,
For people to see.”
Words long forgotten,
In our memories.

Integrity requires honor,
Which requires being noble,
Which goes hand in hand with courage and bravery.
A hero is all of these things,
Combined into a pie,
And though we humans try to replicate the recipe,
We end up exploding the kitchen,
Leaving fallout in our wake.

To me the idea of a hero,
Is more reliable than seeing it in reality,
Someone so honest,
So kind,
Understanding,
And always fighting for what they believe is right.

A villain is a hero,
Just for the other side,
With other motives,
And ways of working things out,
And the hero is the villain to the villain.
Who is right and who is wrong?
The common question.
Often times it’s not so black and white,
Nuances aplenty,
If you open your eyes.
Some are just cruel,
But some have a reason for the heinous actions they do,
Occasionally,
I root for the villain.

We may come close,
But we will never see the perfect hero,
He’s already left.
While we wait,
We can dream,
And aspire to be,
Like Superman.
As the old pledge went,
“When no one else is watching,
It is up to me!”
And so it always will be,
For each of us is the hero in our own story…

I’ve decided I’ve more things to say,
Thoughts wishing to escape my brain,
Whether it’s wrong or whether it’s right,
Prepare for a third piece of my mind.

Is it just me,
Or is communicating,
The hardest trial of life?
Living isn’t hard to me,
It’s coexisting that’s filled with strife.
Trying and failing to express ideas,
In a way that makes sense,
That they can comprehend,
These abstractions of thoughts in my head.

Talking is hard,
Especially when your mouth and your brain,
Aren’t on the same wavelength.
You think one thing,
And say another,
Leaving nothing but shame,
And discomfort.
Sometimes you say the wrong things,
At the wrong time,
To the wrong person,
Such is life.
They push you away,
You feel regret,
Part of the process,
You can’t take it back.
Apologies are just more words,
Added to the wound,
Actions are more powerful,
For better or for worse.

There’s something mesmerizing about the piano,
One of, if not, my favorite instruments.
The piano can make me happy,
Nostalgic,
Sad,
Or bittersweet,
All with a couple of keys.
How powerful when held,
Hearing the strings ring.
However,
I prefer the sad piano songs,
They do a perfect job,
Painting the scene,
Of bittersweet contentment.
The somber melodies make me long,
For those early childhood days,
The ones I rarely remember,
Basking in the sun’s rays.
How miraculous,
And part of what makes the human experience so grand,
How these feelings can be stirred,
From a few notes played,
On a grand piano.

To fit with the tradition,
I’ll quote a song by Alec Benjamin,
This one titled,
“The Plan,”
This is the chorus.
“What I wanted then isn’t what I’ve got now,
But if I did it again I wouldn’t change it anyhow,
I had a vision in my head,
I even wrote it all down,
The plan didn’t work but it all worked out.
The plan didn’t work but it all worked out.”
This song laments on how plans can change,
And paths we’re lead can be different than what we imagine,
Yet, even so,
The path we’re on,
Is the one we’re meant to walk
I agree…

Sometimes it’s difficult for me to distinguish,
Between an acquaintance and a friend.
Is it based on time known?
Or the quality of the relationship?
Or how well you click?
Or do I just overcomplicate it?
Sometimes I wish,
I thought less,
Because sometimes it seems,
Like a curse…

Here we are at the end,
Another poem at its conclusion,
My mind feels at ease,
Finally feeling included.
Only one more piece of my mind remains to be said,
The rest I’ll keep hidden in my head.
Farewell,
Until next time,
Where I unleash,
The final piece of my mind…