before the brat kid
can repeat

this is not
the television
my father
writes for, it is my understanding

that such a child
belongs
to the itch
to have a child
disappear.  as I refuse

(to enter
the ocean)

I’m pretty sure god has put my death in a bug.

Teach them, guide them
Lead them to the right track
Build them up incessantly
Make sure that they do not fall back
As a parent
It is up to you to brighten their day
Give them the courage
Show them the way

Stop distracting me,
Stop tearing me apart,
Stop holding me down,
Stop ... dissolving me!
You stick to me! Help!
I chop off whatever I can see,
Leaving a few bits here and there,
But it corrodes me still.

Him
You can see he's broken
just by looking at his tired eyes
in the verge of tears
as he makes another hole in the wall
Tidal wave of emotions
he can't cope or come around
A certain expectancy
A hope that the future will be bright
But there's nothing else to hope for
when you are falling apart
Yet he brings himself together
Puts on that fake smile

Her
When the sun shines, oh so bright
not letting her hide from life
you can notice the pain, the deepness
in her seemingly fresh scars
She stares at her reflection
dreading everything she sees
Cursing under her breath
every cut, every scar, every slit
"I hate you", she mumbles
putting her makeup on
Not death, but life that scares her
Smile, even faker than before
Oh, dear warrior,
they will never know.