A Mirror to BreakI know your name, And I see we're the sameBut in my anger, I'll put you in dangerThough I'm on a stage; Playing a part for every age; The one that's all the rageI know your name, And I see we're the sameYou're the mirror, And as I draw nearerIt's you I'll try to see, But I'll only find me, UnhappilyI know your name, And I see we're the sameThat's why, in my fear, I threw those rocks at that mirrorDenial I'd try, Making you die, But destruction was always, only, Mine.
The Bus StopJane came to an abrupt stop three feet away from the sheltered bus stop and stared at the strange boy tucked away in the far corner of the bench. His left knee was drawn up to his chest and his head was resting against it, but her view of his face was obscured by his arm. He was perfectly still, but the brilliant yellows and blues of his clothes made him stand out against the dull grey of the city. Jane swallowed and moved to sit down opposite of him. Once she was safely under the glass roof, she folded her umbrella carefully and set it down at her side. The boy took no notice of her.It was a rainy Monday morning and Jane was on her way to the diner downtown where she worked as a waitress. Each day she would wake up early and put on her rather plain looking uniform so that she could hike two miles to the bus stop. It was a rather boring and monotonous existence, but she couldn't quite recall a time when her life hadn't been that way. She didn't go out with friends. In fact, she didn't
The coin manThere is a man in the mountains who has a lot of money. Or it would likely seem a lot of money to you and me, but, given the unlikelihood that he'll ever spend any of it, the lot is less like a lot of money, and more like an enormous collection of coins. These coins are not particularly special; not to you and me; no particular countries of origin, no specific years, no arrangement, nothing unique.He just likes coins.He has a wooden house, but no beard to speak of, and he's had a wife- more than once. He doesn't spend a lot time around the town, but he usually has a smile and a wave at the ready.He is very, very satisfied.And he really has a lot of coins.
HosannaI kneel before the alterOvercome with wonderAt that sweet, sweet soundIn church halls resounds.All young and old,Dispelling winters coldWith my Daily BreadYou've given, then dead.You are the air I breathMy lungs finally relieved.
The BulliesThrowing names at a young girl like knives,Cutting through her happy smile,Teasing, jeering the bullies rise,Laughing at the tears she cries.Shes scared to tell her teachers howThe bullies jeer and beat her,Her friends try to help but do not knowHow deep the wounds from the bullies words go.She tries to hold her tears at baySo the bullies cannot see howTheir knife like words cut into herAnd slowly, surely break her.At night she cries herself to sleepAnd dreams of being beaten up,She cannot escape the bullies grasp,For her to smile is too much to ask.They do not stop, until one day,The girl does not arrive at school,They discover the girl is dead,A suicide note left upon her bed.
Leave us aloneStanding in a corner, all by herselfis a girl with orange curlsShe has braces, she has frecklesStrange that looks are such a curseAnd here they come, the normal gangwith the prettiest in the leadAnd the girl knows in her heartit's time to bleed.Leave her alone, leave her aloneCan't you listen? Can't you leave her alone?You've succeeded; she is brokenand the spirit she had has flownLeave her aloneA boy is sitting quietly under a treeHe's the shortest in his yearHe's a shy one, he's got glassesHe's got blonde and well-groomed hair.And here they come, the normal gangwith the strongest in the leadAnd the boy knows in his heartit's time to bleedLeave him alone, leave him aloneCan't you listen? Can't you leave him alone?Are you shameless? Without feeling?Can't you hear him moan?Leave him aloneAngels stand around him. They are holding hands.Then they gather up his soulIt is greeted by the othersThis is all they can controlAnd every day, they gather moreand the c
+Dissection+I feel as though my air vessels are being constricted,By some sort of necrotic parasite.Perchance it may also be a fragment of a crystalthat I long in the past resentfully admitted to myselfit existed within my very being.It is the blight of my body , a transgression inscribed into my skinReleasing toxins throughout my blood and spreading lies into my mindObscuring my vision, sensations of irritation beneath the skinLips that serve but to lie and kiss, shed their tears with crimson tintHands ravenous with the urge to steal, piercing needles of fluent lustMy doppelgänger succumbing into weaved lies, smile, and façadeSoul bound and sealed by chains, my words of love i to you proclaimDesire and despair are competing for the prize of loveSadness and misery dance with rageWhile hope has succumbed to fear and dreadBliss and ecstasy, along with happiness lay all but deadMy heart is a battle ground between me and youAnd this the remnants of a love I thought trueI am
MotherMother5:39 P.M. and its time for another one of thoseInterruptions; I dont know, maybe I was working too hard, too steadily, too quietly,Or you were tired of leafing through worthless mail: sale bulletins, Dunkin Donuts coupons,The garish Costco ads just screaming to be noticed (Waste of paper!),And running chafed hands through blow-dried, dyed hair,Uttering little murmurs of dissatisfaction like you always do, so goddamn predicable.It begins. What are you doing? If I sit very still and pretend you dont existWill you do me that favor? No, youve already left your indelibleHandprint on my often-battered spirit, might as well hang on a few more yearsTo dole out more bruises and cuts and if youre lucky, a really deep gash will scar.Wouldnt that be lovely? Though I am well-trained in the art of silence,Often mistaken for contempt or reservation, dont surrender, mother dearest!You alone possess t