It's the 50's and I'm walking home from school
a truck rolls by and i see a body boom.
"whats that" I say and I look down the drain.
It's my friend, a girl, oh I have forgot her name.
I finnish my walk home and I walk through the door.
The first thing i say "Where's my sibling's mom?"
she simpy replies " At the old hospital ***".
So I start to walk and find that place.
I start to climb the rusty fire place.
I get inside the buliding,there are kids every where.
screaming and yelling
"QUICK, HURRY! THERE'S A FIRE OVER THERE!"
I  freak out
Where's my siblings, oh dear.
Maybe i can find them if i go down here?
I climb in a dumbwaiter not knowing what I will see.
I get to a floor where there was just her and little ol' me
"Hello there new friend, would you like to play?"
Why sure of course, I have some time to play.
She was small petite, with gorgous red hair
her smile, he laugh, her skin was so fair.
She was beautiful like a angel, but something was wrong.
she offered me a drink, what happened next i wish i would have run
she opened her fridge and what i saw
1 million little peicese, her parents cut small.
She came after me with her knife in one hand.
How the hell am i supposed to get away,
get away from this scam!
So i scurry up where i came from,
and i said my goodbyes to that little one.
The hospital is blazed,
and my heart has sunk.
My siblings have died i just know this one.
I get out side just in the nick of time,
before that building fell I was sure I would die.
I see right before me those flashing lights.
maybe they got out, maybe they are just fine.
Then what i see is my youngest sister.
Bleeding right there all over the stretcher.
She no longer had arms or legs and it just broke my heart
i ran to her to hold her, and tell her my goodbyes.
Then before i could speek my words
she said
"Goodbye"

Hakim sat
on the banks of the Euphrates,
his discarded newspaper
lifting, page by page,
on the warm wind.

He had been reading of the countless dead.

Of course, his mind played first
over those he had known.
An uncle, two brothers,
his mother
and a grandfather of ninety six.

All of them,
definitely gone.

But according to the paper,
atop the official body count
some twenty thousand souls
may or may not
have survived the conflict,
and his head swam
with this crowded limbo
and the knowledge
that no-one knew.

Enough people
to populate a small town,
possibly dead.
Not important enough
for anyone to be sure.
And Hakim, eyes
glazed in the dusty sunshine,
began to wonder
whether he was one of them,
the uncounted,
the unacknowledged,
wandering vacantly
through his outstayed welcome,

simpy waiting
for someone
to write down
his name.

I am mad
Mostly
At myself

I could have
Done something
Yet I chose
Not to

Why?
I don't know
Why did I not
Do anything?

I am mad
At me, myself
And I

I chose not to act
On my beliefs and ideas
On my viewpoint
To help

Why?
I was afraid

Simpy afraid

Over time we learn to forgive.
Except a few forever hold on to a grudged.
Why feel sorrow?
When they gone.
You personally stopped yourself from getting along.

It just takes one to offer forgiveness.
Just like life takes one to live.
A hurt lover gives you a kiss.
Instantly people starts to question's it.

Some of us works in a forgiving mood.
While others simpy refuse too.
We hear when people gone.
There hurtful foes states rather false or true.

I wish I had..
I should have..
But in all honesty.
They wanted to hold on to that grudge.
Remember forgettin' is hard.
But forgivin' is easy.

It just guilt caught up with them.
When your enemies wants to forgive.
Truth stands firm.
Memories hard to release.
When you controls so much hurt.

i always thought those books that i read
in lover's conflicts and wars they dealt
meant something beyond these images in my head
meant more than mere novels, something the poets felt
but oh boy, was i terribly wrong
i made my own suffering prolong,
i ain't the "forever" material or ****,
simply a means to an end is what fits,
i will never be nobody's moon or stars
because i am adorned with scars
given by life, it's people and it's maker
all through these 22 years of being a waker
rejected, dejected and an outcast at it's best
i ain't special but simply different from the rest
a fool i have been all along, believing it was my superpower
oh good lord, i was simpy never on anybody radar
the unlikable, unwanted and unlovable soul
who had no poise, passion or a gritty goal
i have been loitering in delusion, hallucinating the impossible
all the while i have done nothing but been an imbecile
i maybe good but never great
in the world of curves, a definite straight
being humble was my only shot at becoming better
but in the end, it got me to this point where i am typing this letter by letter
all i am is a wishful thinker who lives in the world of imagination
a dull, boring kid trapped in an adult's body and adaptation
a stupid girl who is the easiest of all
an ugly-hearted, too trusting of a call
i am pathetic, the dumbest being to ever grace this planet
as useless and replaceable as the middle of a magnet

From where did the sins of man come
Were they born by god
Or did we find them in the dark
Waiting where our deepest desires live
Did we feel their wrath?
And blame it on the gods we imagined below
Or did we simpy feel wrong
For the hurting we bore