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Mikaila Oct 2013
Tell me again how hard it is
To be with someone
Who is not ashamed
To hold your hand
In front of his parents.

Did no one ever teach you shame?
They *did
.
You must remember secrecy-
It's not as if you never knew it.
You lost to it.
Tell me how you write that off
As just
The way it is.
Tell me why you fight for the other things
And not for this.
I think
It's because you no longer have to.
Nobody avoids you if you shop for groceries with him,
Taking the adjacent aisle
So as not to interact.
None of your "friends" would rather
You two not cuddle on their couch at the party
Because not having to explain it to the other guests
Is just
Easier.
There is not a family dinner
You cannot bring him to
And sit beside him
Unabashedly.
Has it been so long that you've forgotten?
These are treasures
These normalcies.
These are trifles, if you have them
But if not
They erode, little sharpened grains of sand.
Don't mistake me-
It is no less valid
(Oh, according to the world, in fact, much more)
But
Don't you tell me
It's just as hard.
Mickinous Jun 2016
There's a photo
developing
in the dark room
of over exposed minds
that has captured
the proof
of repeated crimes
against humanity  

slowly reducing
the impact of fear
that once fully developed
should bring us to tears

though we are relaxed
at-ease
unconscious
of the true reality
what we think
is normal
is an illusion
of normality

if morals
are the building
blocks of our society
where there's a variety
of ways
of losing your sobriety
where morality
takes a back seat
and normalcies
a bad dream

of a wolf
pulling the wool
over the eyes
of soft little sheep
lost in a dream
about to meet a wolf
with a big appetite
big eyes
big teeth
big claws
dig deep
and you too
will see through
it's clever disguise
CarolineSD Mar 2020
As the normalcies of life splinter and fall away like ice
Brushed from a window pane,
There is no place left to look
But in,
And there is nowhere to run.

There is no sea of peace
Except that which we return to
Inside, within.

I lay my body down beneath an imagined sun
And feel the textured sand against my skin
And pretend that
This darkness outside will end

And in this way, I can hold their little hands and claim that
The life we knew before will begin again,

But the truth is,
It may get so much worse,
And we may be called to carry far heavier loads before these
Tides reverse.

So, cling tightly to the inner worlds;

The rest is as scaffolding made of sand,
How quickly it fractured and fell to the ground.

— The End —