Scattered Poetry…sorta.

A Candle

A candle never loses anything by lighting another candle,

but what if it needed oxygen to glow?

What if it needed the light of others to glow?

Would you walk away to prove your theory?

Would you just let go and learn to lean in…

learn to touch the light…

learn to stop.

A candle never loses anything by lighting another candle,

but what if it barely had its own light?

What if it needed your light to grow?

Would you stay and wave your brightness towards it?

Would you cast aside your pain and be…

Be strong together,

so you can be strong apart?

 

Hold My Hand

I just want you to hold my hand,

Just for one little second,

Then I’ll slink back away.

I just want to understand, reconnect,

Come between you and the hate,

Just for today.

I’ve been wishing on a falling star so long.

I’m brave.

I’m bold.

I’m evolving.

I’m breathing beautifully on my own,

But…

I just want you to say,

It’ll be okay in the morning.

I just want a piece of it back.

Then I’ll retreat back to the cave,

And work on forgetting some more.

Circle of Friends

I have a group of friends, I don’t even know.

We talked and we laughed and we loved the simple flow.

But one day, the circle closed tight all around,

And me… left outside, on the cold stony ground.

I tried to get back, but the circle closed so tight.

I tried with my will, I tried with my might.

I looked at them, snuggly sharing stories with such flair.

Sharing smiles, sharing hugs, such a happy affair.

And me… outside like a cast out ugly chair.

“The circle will not break!”, one exclaimed from within.

“Go away, stay away!”, another chimed in.

And me… outside for crimes I’m not sure I committed.

Looking in, at the circle I never quite fit in.

This circle, it seems, was never right for me.

And neither for them, that’s a possibility.

And me… waiting outside like that bothersome old chair,

Breathing in an ample supply of sweet-smelling air.

Scream at me… please.

Scream at me… please.

Break this silence wide open.

Don’t hold back.

Paint the canvas of hatred with your wailing.

Fill this space with your high-pitched shrieks.

Ignoring.

Pretending.

Erasing.

Scream at me goddamnit… please!

I need to fill this silence with something.

It’s louder than the music.

It’s more powerful than I.

It’s picking me up and thrashing me about.

There’s no silencing your closed off tongue.

Scream at me… please.

The silence is so loud.

I just need it to stop.

I just need it to end.

I just want to hear your scream.

Scream, just please scream.

Throw this silence at me like a vase in anger.

It takes away the light from the sun,

It snuffs out the rays of the moon,

It makes the birds cover their heads and stay hidden in the trees.

It’s so loud.

It’s so deafening.

It’s so maddening.

Scream at me… please.

Writing From The Heart

 Writing from the heart

It’s what we all dream.

The thoughts that spark the words

that spark more thoughts

that spark a conversation

that spark an ending

that spark a beginning.

We need a spark.

We need a heart to write from.

Writing from the heart.

It’s such a profound goal.

Our hearts laid open for you to explore.

Do you see the broken parts?

Can they be mended?

Will it fit back together again?

Writing from a broken heart…

The words are broken,

The meaning is broken.

Broken words that continue to break.

A heart that’s whole has many words.

A heart that is healed can’t contain all its thoughts.

A heart filled with hope has a story to tell.

A heart has to heal before the words will escape.

A heart needs to be pieced back together,

Before it can connect with its own story.

Writing from the heart.

Death Was Easy

Death was easy compared to this.

I bought a new dress for Death.

I bought new shoes for Death.

I took a shower and fixed my hair and put on make-up and I looked so pretty…

for Death.

I stood there greeting Death with a smile and a handshake.

I brought you all in to my home and sat you down and we talked to Death like he was our old friend.

Death stayed for a while,

Then I told him to leave.

It was time to let go of Death.

… and he was gone.

But this,

There is no death here.

There is no reason here.

There is no answer here.

Death was easy compared to this.

Denial.

Anger.

Bargaining.

Depression.

Acceptance.

Those are so easy when it’s death,

But life makes it hard.

When life is the reason.

When life leaves us.

When nothing fits.

You don’t buy a new dress for loss.

You don’t buy new shoes for loss.

You don’t take a shower and put on make-up and look pretty for loss.

You stay hidden away,

Hoping.

Wishing.

Bargaining.

Death was easy compared to this.

The Watched Pot

Sitting there,

Surrounded by stares,

Surrounded by wondering,

Surrounded by those who want it to boil over.

The watched pot.

Stop staring, please.

Stop turning up the fire, please.

Stop secretly hoping I boil over, please.

The watched pot sits there serving it’s purpose,

Collecting everything it can…

Holding it all in.

Sturdy.

Dependable.

Unshakeable.

Your stares only make it worse.

Your secret wishing that it’s all too much,

You’re constantly pushing the heat up…

Slightly, so no one really notices.

But me… I notice.

It’s like the watched pot that we desperately want to boil,

You desperately need me to boil,

Too prove you were right.

I’m sitting here,

Surrounded by your stares.

Surrounded by your wondering.

Surrounded by your desire to see me.

I’m here.

Learning.

Leaping.

Loving.

I’m here.

Breathing.

Evolving.

Growing.

I’m here,

Being me.

For me.

I’m the pot you’re watching.

Don’t watch me for the wrong reasons.

Don’t watch me hoping to see the aftermath of the events that life is stirring up inside of me.

Don’t watch me.

I’m here,

Not knowing what the outcome will be.

I’m here,

Continuing on this path.

I’m here,

Making strides.

I’m here,

The watched pot.

Watch me evolve.

Watch me grow.

Watch me learn.

Watch me boil over with awareness.

Watch me be complicated.

Watch me be messy.

Watch me for the right reasons.

I AM complicated,

We all are.

I AM gathering all the ingredients,

We all are.

I AM a work in progress,

We all are.

I AM the watched pot,

We all are.

Moonbeams and Sunshine

The moon was so bright, shining in my window.

I reached out to catch a beam,

It was there… for a moment,

Trapped in my palm.

Then it fell on to the floor,

I watched it, sitting there, brightly, not moving.

It lit up my whole room —

That tiny light on my floor.

I sat down beside it,

Watching it closely.

Trying desperately to put it back in to my palm.

It kept slipping out… back to its perch on the floor.

I feel asleep watching it.

When I awoke,

It was the sun… warming my face.

I tried to put it in to the palm of my hand,

Moonbeams and sunshine are impossible to hold.

You can run and jump with arms stretched out,

But it will slip through your fingers every time.

The warmth is too much for just my palm.

The light is too bright for just my palm.

But for a moment,

It was there with me.

Lighting my room.

Euphoria In An Instant

The complete euphoria is primal…

making me jump for a joy that isn’t even mine,

making me smile for a victory I didn’t earn,

making me laugh with abandon at just the thought.

Amazing.

Proud.

Un-parrelled.

The euphoria hit me in an instant…

I’ll keep the feeling even though it belongs to you,

I’ll keep my smile and know you have one too,

I’ll keep on shouting at the victory you earned.

I’ll write it here…

where I know it’s safe,

where I don’t need to hide,

where I come to write these words.

Euphoria in an instant,

for a lifetime of work.

The lessons learned have been painful,

the lessons learned have been excruciating,

the lessons learned have been necessary.

I’m here…

sharing your euphoria,

right this instant.

Footprints In A Cloud

Don’t try to figure it out…

You never will.

It has nothing to do with you…

But everything just the same.

The moments were fleeting, distant…

I think I imagined it all anyway.

I have no proof it was ever real,

It’s gone,

Everything.

I wish I would have taken a picture…

To prove footprints exist on the ocean floor.

I wish I would have recorded the scene…

To prove footprints exist in a cloud.

I wish I would have something for myself…

To prove that catching the rays of the sun was possible.

It’s a delicate place…

The in-between.

You have to decide for yourself what was real and what was…

Fleeting.

But I’ll leave this place soon…

Without the answers I wanted,

Without the ending I sought,

Without the proof…

That footprints exist in a cloud.

Don’t try to figure it out…

You never will.

Sleep

Sleep never comes.

It alludes me, taunts me, curses me…

laughs at my yawns, points at my puffy eyes,

plays cards late in to the night with my demons.

Sleep never comes.

Tears stake their claim.

They come when I’m not ready.

They stop when they want.

They take over the day.

Then the sleep…

it never comes.

Not Pulling You Back

I’m not trying to pull you back,

Read between the lines and you’ll see.

That would mean I’m back there to,

Waiting for company.

I’m not trying to pull you back,

Not now, not this time, not at all.

That would mean I’m stuck with no way out,

waiting for a superhero.

I’m not trying to pull you back,

It’s about moving on and taking in and understanding the past.

I’m not trying to pull you back,

I don’t even recognize that space that time that person.

I’m not trying to pull you back,

I’m showing me there’s hope and friends and forgiveness and redemption

and acceptance back in to the fold.

I’m not trying to pull you back,

I’m creating and letting go and moving on and learning

and feeling and understanding and being and loving and hurting

and missing.

I’m not trying to pull you back,

I’m propelling myself forward.

I’m learning to walk not fly.

I’m learning to leap not drop.

I’m learning to talk not demand.

I’m learning to listen not analyze.

I’m here…

moving, hoping.

I’m here…

wishing for a voice.

I’m here.

I’m not trying to pull you back,

I’m un-sticking my feet from the messy past

and treading on a hopeful future.

I’m here.

Just me.

Naked and exposed.

I’m here.

Not pulling.

Not pushing.

Not proving.

Not consuming.

Not drowning.

Not flying.

Not waiting.

Not contemplating.

I’m here.

Surrounded by my hope.

I’m here.

Me.

A New Day

Each day I think it gets harder.

Each day I think it will never go away.

Each day I think what the hell happened?

Each day I think you were right.

Each day I think trash belongs on the curb.

Each day I think I’m the bad in people.

Each day I think I don’t want to think anymore.

Each day I think it doesn’t matter.

Each day I think maybe today.

Each day I think it can’t be fixed.

Each day I think I’m tired of poems.

Each day I think I’m tired of blogs.

Each day I think I’m tired of empty spaces.

Each day I think you really don’t care.

Each day I think I really do.

Each day I think just notice.

Each day I think a new day begins.

The Curb

Seriously… please stop calling me an ugly chair.

An ugly chair to toss out with the garbage might be all you see,

You never saw the possibility.

An ugly chair waiting at the curb not fit to be inside,

You never saw the possibility.

An ugly chair battle weary and worn, made such a great story,

You never saw the possibility.

An ugly chair… screw this.

I’m taking my chair back.

I see all kinds of possibilities.

All I Need

At the worst possible time.

Just looking at tomorrow.

Trying to stand up straight.

The breath left my lungs,

The pounding left my heart,

The hope left my soul.

You have no idea the leap I took.

The one I put off.

The one that scares me the most.

The breath left my lungs,

The pounding left my heart,

The hope left my soul.

The words I was called.

The things that were said.

My body doubled over in pain.

The breath left my lungs,

The pounding left my heart,

The hope left my soul.

And now…

What’s left?

The faint breath,

The distant pounding,

The shred of hope.

That’s all I need.

Enough

Ugly space

Ugly shoes

Ugly clothes

Ugly chairs

Ugly garbage

Ugly manners

Ugly words

Ugly reasons

Ugly people

Ugly comments

Ugly hair

Ugly pages

Ugly thoughts

Beautiful friends

Beautiful possibilities

Just trying to see them

Possibilities

I’ve replied to it many times,

but then I remember.

I’ve tried to comment many times,

but then I remember.

If I could I would,

but then I remember.

I remember that my words were tossed around like fodder in the middle school cafeteria for everyone to gawk at.

I remember that garbage stays at the curb and has no voice.

I remember that the words did their job and cut in deep.

I remember that hurting so easily means there was no there there.

When you look around at all the emptiness where the ugly used to be… maybe, there’s hope for a shiny new cover. Maybe that’s a possibility.

Ruminations

I’m more than an ugly chair,

More than a piece of furniture that took up space.

More than that though it’s hard to believe it right now.

I’m more than a burden,

More than the thoughts you want to erase.

The ruminating takes up a constant vigil.

I’m more than the words,

More than the tears wreaking havoc on my face.

Seeking help for the weaknesses.

I’m more than the trouble,

More than the pain that I caused from this place.

It’s for me now.

I’m more than the one who never said anything bad,

More than just one more case.

The hardest walks we take alone.

I’m more than my ruminations,

More than the ugly chair that just took up space.

Maybe, for me, I’ll prove it to myself.

Fleeing The Moment

dare me to move, I will.

dare me to stop, I will.

dare me to go, I will.

dare me to stay, Iwill.

dare me to get up, I will.

dare me to fall down, I will.

dare me to cry, I will.

dare me to laugh, I will.

dare me to continue, I will.

dare me to freeze, I will.

dare me to speak, I will.

dare me to be silent, I will.

dare me to walk away, I will.

dare me to stay, I will.

dare me to be steady, I will.

dare me to crumble, I will.

dare me — please.

Not Lonely

The clouds have settled in,

The storm is imminent.

The sky darkens with each breath that fails to fill my lungs.

Because of the concrete ways —

There will always be this haze.

The path seems blocked.

The trail seems winding.

The walk seems to forebode of the end.

I will go.

I will lead my own way.

I will be alone but not lonely.

I will come back…

And tell you.

I will take a breath and the sky will clear.

My lungs will fill with the words I want to say.

The path may remain obstructed by the walls around it,

But they are crumbling.

I will come back and tell you…

And you will want to hear.

Lost

I have nothing to say.

No words come to my scattered thoughts.

No dreams traverse my weary mind.

I am lost.

I am lost.

Tears flow freely,

In place of the lost words.

No words.

Clear Sky

It’s all here, in your words,

In the sky behind you… the silence.

I look around and wonder does anyone know?

I think it’s so hard to not see, to not hear, to not know.

Down in the depths of the confusion is a small heartbeat that refuses to quit.

Just quit.

Just go.

Just stop.

Look at the lake, so dry, so barren.

The rain falling so soft across the top of my head,

Streaming down my face — cold.

I begin to shiver.

The sounds make me turn but nothing is there…

A rabbit perhaps, a spider, a memory.

I have to keep going,

There’s nowhere to stop and rest.

No one knows.

The words hide the truth from even me.

The sky opens up,

It’s time to move on.

Blame You

I am your creation,

You did this to me.

You made me needy…

Why did you make me needy?

You made me insecure…

Why did you make me insecure?

You made me questioning…

Why did you make me questioning?

And now you want to turn away.

And now you wonder why yourself.

You did this.

Why?

I have you to thank.

You have you to blame.

Filled With Meaning

This life we have is precious.

The moments should not pass without notice.

The people we meet and love and lose,

They make this life have meaning.

There is meaning in life and in death.

There is meaning in love and in broken hearts.

There is meaning in our souls being filled with friends.

There is meaning in broken moments we huddle in a corner, alone.

There is meaning in simple words.

There is meaning in a simple touch.

This life gives us meaning.

What we have now gives us meaning.

The friends we have, the lovers we lose, the family we fight with,

All give us meaning.

We matter.

We matter to each other — our words, our thoughts, our heartache, our laughs.

I want to share it all with you.

The meaning is clear.

The meaning is now… the present, the past, the future.

We create our lives and we must live our lives,

With meaning.

Fierce Love

My love is fierce, it scares me.

All too often leaving me in tears, filled with pain and confusion.

I reach out and hold too tightly.

I stay hidden and for what?

To thrash out at the darkness and the solitude that never comforts me?

Fierce love can be controlled.

Fierce love can hold you close.

Fierce love can fill your soul.

It’s never-ending and all-encompassing and over-flowing.

It’s fierce.

My love is fierce.

It will hold us together as long as we need.

It will fill our hearts and souls.

Fierce love is good.

Fierce love is me.

Small Victories

The leap seems too far…

… just open your eyes a little wider.

The distance is too great…

… go to the edge and breathe in the solitude.

I’m scared I won’t make it…

… I’ll take your hand.

I think I’ll stay here…

… I have faith in you, now go.

You have faith, in me?

The distance is smaller now…

… It never was too great.

I’ll go now…

… When you return, we will share our small victories.

Fragile

Fragile and broken…

But not beyond repair.

Leaping and falling…

Get up just one more time.

Loving and caring…

Is never meant to hurt.

Hearing and listening…

To words that make no sense.

Talking and writing…

Until the thoughts make their way.

Reading and needing…

Everything you say.

Fragile is gone.

You helped it go away.

Falling

Hate is big.

Hate is alive.

Hate is powerful.

Hate is slow.

Hear what I’m saying… pull me up,

Away from this…

Scream like I am.

I’m sinking, falling… whirling out of control.

Hate is here,

Right here inside of me.

Take it please.

Take it… hurry.

Hate… please take away the hate.

Don’t let it stay.

Don’t let it hide.

Don’t let me fall.

Learning To Feel

I want to not constantly think about it…

But I do.

I want to not constantly care…

But I do.

I’m learning to feel.

I’m learning to feel.

My heart laid dormant for too long…

Sheltered.

My soul cried out to no response…

Waiting.

If you have to hurt to feel,

Then you don’t know how to feel at all.

I’m learning to feel through my sheltered heart.

I’m learning to feel through my displaced heart.

I’m learning to feel through my original heart.

Learning to feel…

Is worth it.

All.

Tracks

The tracks stretched on,

I could never see where they ended.

I knew it was far away…

I knew it was away, from here.

I begin the journey.

Where do they go?

When do they end?

I imagine they continue — forever.

Passing through the towns that hold all the others.

Winding through the places I want to move past.

Where do they end?

The roar of the engine comforts me.

The roar of the engine says I’m moving.

The roar of the engine takes me closer to the end.

And I look…

And I see…

And I long…

Just to take that journey,

Just to see.

You

It’s about you.

Don’t you get that?

Don’t you see what could happen?

Don’t you want to prevent that?

I do, so much.

It’s about you.

Can’t you let go?

Can’t you just say something?

Can’t you see how strong your voice is?

I do, so much.

Use the words.

Make your point.

Do what you need.

Yell.

Yell loudly.

Yell softly.

Yell.

Do something for you.

It’s about you.

New Memory

There is a missing piece that time hasn’t filled,

A missing piece to the ever-growing puzzle that is lost.

But I know where it used to be —

I can still see the outline,

The impression it left in the rest of the puzzle.

So it’s still there… just distant.

This puzzle will be complete.

In time.

The pieces that have yet to be found are waiting… somewhere.

Maybe they’re waiting for someone to create them,

Form them,

place them snug against the rest.

Maybe a new memory will fill the gap…

Yes. Yes.

A new memory.

Silence

I can’t think,

It’s all going too fast.

I need to take a breath,

I need a little more time.

Just slow down a minute and listen for the silence.

Let it take you away to the start of another day.

The mortar was beginning to dissolve —

I can’t let it harden again —

Just listen for the silence that surrounds us.

Don’t question why we’re here,

Just know we are.

Just let me wake up to that one day when I know I’m safe,

Safe from you leaving —

Safe from anyone leaving.

Safe to say we’re friends.

Let’s just listen to the silence that surrounds us,

A new day begins.

Just This Once

Waiting. Hoping. Wishing.

Can what we want ever match what we get?

Can what we get be the thing we want?

Can the two be the same — just this once?

Waiting. Hoping. Wishing.

I’ll Keep Pretending

I’m pretending you’re doing this for me…

But I know the truth.

I’m pretending you want me to learn…

But I know the truth.

I’m pretending you want to take away my insecurities…

But I know the truth.

I’m pretending you want me to trust myself…

But I know the truth.

I’m pretending you care…

But I know the truth.

I’m pretending you want me to be strong…

But I know the truth.

I’m pretending it hurts you too…

But I know the truth.

I’m pretending it will be over soon…

But I know the truth.

I’m pretending I can take it…

But I know the truth.

I’m pretending I don’t care…

But I know the truth.

I’m pretending not to cry…

But I know the truth.

So for now…

Just let me keep pretending.

I’ll just keep pretending.

An Art To Talking

A word, find the word.

Use it well,

Make sure you get heard.

Think it all out or spew forth with nonsense,

Your words are what matters,

Your words are what’s heard.

Say them loud or whisper with ease,

Someone will hear them.

Someone will hear them.

Whisper so you can still be heard.

Yell when the crowd seems deafening.

Stutter when your nerves creep up.

Be firm when your righteous indignation wants out.

There is an art to talking.

So Wrong

Is it so wrong that I need to know what you think?

Is it so wrong that I need to know what you feel?

Is it so wrong that I need to know it’s all real?

It all can slip away…

do you know that’s my fear?

You did it before…

My fears seem so real.

Is it so wrong that I just need to know?

Back Here Again

I can’t believe I heard it.

I can’t believe I listened.

I can’t believe I believed.

I can’t believe I was wrong.

I can’t believe It’s gone.

I can’t believe it was never there.

I can’t believe all those words.

I can’t believe anything…

and now, I’m back to not believing.

Listen

Poetry comes and goes and never stays around for long,

It shuffles in and out deciding where to stop for the night.

Deciding what words to use,

Deciding what order to put them,

Deciding what ears will hear.

Listen well,

It won’t let you hear it for long.

Listen.

Scattered Thoughts

The words finally make sense,

The thoughts finally fall into place,

The mind is resting.

The shaking, the stirring —

It’s passed.

Yet tomorrow leads to another beginning,

Yet tomorrow leads to another end.

And again… the scattered thoughts will return.

And tomorrow will be left to sort them out.

I Don’t Have Time For This

I don’t have time for this…for you.

I heard you say it, as if you were standing right in front of me.

Shaking your finger to scold me… for caring.

I don’t have time for this…for you.

I heard you say it, trying to put all your burdens on me.

As if it’s my fault you’re tired.

I don’t have time for this…for you.

You say it all the time, you think I can’t hear you because you say it so soft.

As if it hurts you to say it.

Hurts you?

Hurts you to be a needed?

Hurts you to be loved?

Hurts you to be present?

I don’t have time for this…for you.

I’ve heard it from you before, many times.

You say it with ease when you think I can’t hear it.

I’m listening now…

I’m listening now…

I have time.

New Beginnings

It’s all new when you begin…even the old.

It’s all new to me.

Sometimes endings aren’t that happy.

It’s all new to me.

It’s all new when you begin… even the old.

What?

If “things” went fine then the meaning of life would be wrong.

If “things” went terrible then the meaning of life would be wrong.

That line between fine and terrible,

a delicate balance of both.

It varies from day-to-day,

year to year.

Sometimes more, sometimes less.

Everything depending on the “things”.

They creep out from the hidden doors of our minds.

Swaying our decisions.

Giving way to our convictions.

Causing our emotions to be —

HAPPY.

SAD.

Is there a difference?

Perhaps this is the meaning of life.

Family Tree

Her name isn’t important;

Who she is doesn’t matter.

The lines on her face make her real to us.

They are her story.

The look in her eyes, a deep concerned glance.

Her delicate soft hands wrinkled from time.

Aged from years of living, they are her story.

A recipe combined carefully and precisely;

Every ingredient as important as the last.

Every detail planned.

They come together as a masterpiece.

They are her story.

Her voice is soft and comforting;

It echos off the walls of our memories.

Her heart is weak from giving;

From pleasing.

She sleeps never soundly,

And is tired because.

A cough and she is gone.

And yet her hands, still so soft.

And her story remains with us.

Home

Three little brothers,

Walking down the street,

Too young to be scared.

Three little brothers,

Cuts on their feet,

No one really cares.

Two little brothers

Left out in the cold,

They’re a product of our time.

Two little brothers

Being bought and sold,

Can you spare a dime?

One little brother

Struggling to find a home,

Deals and cheats and lies.

One little brother

Nothing left to hold,

He’ll be better off when he dies.

No little brothers,

No helping hands,

No happy ending, The End.

Everything

He lives alone, there, behind the wall.

Hidden from the crowd by machines and such.

When he comes out, no one notices or cares.

They are lost within their own lives.

In too much of a hurry to see, to care.

They know nothing but themselves —

And little about that.

No one took the time for him,

This man behind the wall.

He listened.

He watched.

He knew their names — their lives.

Their lives were his.

Everything.

He had time to know them,

But not himself.

That man behind the wall.

They took him away on a bed of wheels,

Never to return.

No one noticed.

No one cared.

Just as if he had never been — now he is gone.

The man behind the wall.

RK Hello

I have a mind.

I know I do.

But they don’t know.

I can’t tell them.

I don’t know how…

… He sits alone.

Looking out the window,

Staring into space.

He knows nothing of this world.

He is lost in his own reality.

But he is there, somewhere…

In a place others can not see,

He is in control.

Toy cars and trucks and fire engines are his reality.

They circle around him,

He is in control.

He sits in the middle,

He is in control

… His eyes look at objects,

But he can not see.

His ears hear words,

But they are not understood.

But he is there, somewhere.

I have a mind.

I know I do,

But they don’t know.

I can’t tell them.

I don’t know how…

AirriA

A word slips out, unnoticed at first.

It begins to thrash through the air,

Looking for a place to happen.

The once unnoticed syllables are now

The cause of hatred, of anger, of pain.

My words.

My words.

If I could go back to the beginning,

Take back all my words and put them back,

Back to their starting place.

I can’t…

I can’t…

Back to their starting place.

Take back all my words and put them back,

If I could go back to the beginning,

My words.

My words.

The cause of hatred, of anger, of pain.

The once unnoticed syllables are now

Looking for a place to happen.

It begins to thrash through the air.

A word slips out unnoticed at first.

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