If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone.

If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.

If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.

If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds  
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?

If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.

If I were to write about you,

I wouldn’t say how much I like your jokes,
I would rather say how your face lights up a little when you see me laugh.

I wouldn’t say how quiet you are when the sun rises because you’re aware of my presence,
I’d rather say how you respect my need and appreciation for peaceful mornings.

I wouldn’t say how warm your hand feels when you touch mine,
I’d rather say how I see you try to hold back a goofy smile when you gently reach for my hand.

I wouldn’t say how much I treasure all the songs we dance to,
I’d rather say how you always dance with me when I need it and it doesn’t matter that you think you always mess up a few steps because we’d laugh about it and I’d feel a little better.

I wouldn’t say how I like it when you listen to all my stories and say all the right things at the right times,
I’d rather say how much you remember all of them and how much you know that there will always be more.

I wouldn’t say how much I appreciate your genuinely kind words or your straightforward opinions when you tell me what I need to hear,
I’d rather say how much you accept and take note of my words as well.

If I were to write about you,
I wouldn’t write about how you make me feel,
I’d simply write about the way you just are.

If I were to write about you,
I wouldn’t write about the things I like about you
for if I were to write about you,
I would write about...you.

There will come a time when the night air
won’t send chills down my spine
for it will no longer whisper your name.

I will stop telling stories about you,
for the moon has grew tired of hearing them
and weariness is an awful thing to feel.

The stars would appear
brighter than your eyes,
and I would hear lullabies again.

The winds would be warm,
the seas won’t crash waves,
and I will no longer drown.

she gave me her nudes
she was bare
and naked
and so out
and open
and i willingly
accepted it
because it wasnt the nudes
that showed her body
the physical aspects
that made her beautiful
it was the words
she didnt choose
and the spontaneity
that left her
either from her lips
or her fingers
or ink

she was as bare
as her nudes
and i accepted
her for her.