a free man;

and there he stood
an outsider in an alien world
completely naked to those before him
as they scrutinized his sincerity.

who is this strange creature
they whispered amongst themselves.
can he be trusted
is he friend or foe.

could they afford to give him the benefit of the doubt
when so many like him before
proved to be a dangerous omen.

or is he truly an ally
holding up the facade of a bastard
cruel and unrelenting
only to protect what was dear to him
so that he could finally walk out
a free man.

caboose of life;

such a turn
like flipping sides of a coin
so abrupt and without warning
so completely upside down.

hurtful but true words thrown
however badly it needed to be said
however badly it needed to be heard
with love as the catalyst.

but it still aches
a lump in the hollow of the throat
eyes pricking the back of eyelids
but never spilling over.

it's all about change
and a will to push forward
to pave a new pathway
instead of cowering in the caboose of life.

scared of change;

she is scared of new places
of new surroundings, new people
she is scared of change
maybe that is what is holding her back
keeping her from reaching her potential.

she clings to what is familiar
to every last speck of dust
knowing that if she leaves
she may never find her way back.

it is almost a nightmare
in the midst of a tormenting heaven.
how badly she wants to leave
but so terrified of the unknown beyond.

she prays so fervently for the strength
she wishes so desperately for the courage
to be able to break out of her shell
and let the light into her life.

lost;

lost
maybe it is time for a change
possibly a new beginning

should i embark on an adventure
and leave behind everything i know
to pursue a secret just for me?

maybe it is time to walk away
footsteps that will carry me to there
a place far from my home
where my future lies.

it was my birthday;

it was my birthday
may fourth nineteen eighty seven.
this year i turned twenty-three.
did you even think about me?
did i even cross your mind
even for just a second?

what did you do, i wonder
have you forgotten me.

i haven't forgotten you
but i don't care for you
not really
and i am entitled to do so.

you, on the other hand
do not have a choice.

in a cruel way
i want you to remember
to be pained at the knowledge
that you never got to see me grow up
because of your selfish choice.

in a cruel way
i want you to know that you died
a very long time ago
as your new persona was birthed
from the smoke from which you lit
possibly your first taste of the darkness.

i want you to know that you hurt me
beyond what my memories can recollect.

i want you to know that i hated you once
so very much.
that i wanted you dead
i wanted you deported
i wanted the blood that ran through my veins
to drip onto the dirt ground
where i felt it belonged.

but now, i do not hate you
but i do not love you either
and i still have not forgiven you.

i have, however, come to terms
and only recently.
that person who was once in my life
is dead.
that is how i see it as you are definitely
not who you used to be
not for seventeen years.

many may forget their past
the details of their early lives.
just a fuzzy haze.
but i remember quite a lot
in vivid detail
and even the sounds.

but i wish to only focus on memories that happened
before your 'death'
quotations as you are still very much alive
i assume.

memories from when happiness was abounding in my life
where love bursted from the seams of its container.
the memories after are still fond
but without you in them.

and although i try my hardest not to
i fantasize how things might have been
once upon a time in the future.

what kind of person would i have become
would i be the same
or would i be completely different
on a track of sex and drugs
not healthcare and education.

so maybe, i am to thank you for leaving
for no longer being in my life
because perhaps without you in it
i have become far better than i ever could have imagined.

so now maybe i have come to a decision
to shut the door on that one part of my past.
it is over now anyway, isn't it?

it's time to say goodbye
and hopefully for the very last time.

the dream, the everything;

the dream
the everything we worked for
the very essence of our soul

it is heartbreaking to see it crumble
to watch as the foundation begins to crack
like a mirror fatally dropped to the ground

it seems unfair that this said dream must meet demise
in the most cruel possible way

it is not the cause of one fault
but of many rolled into one
catastrophic tornado

and to rebuild this broken city
will take much longer than ever before
especially with a burdened heart

conscience;

conscience
that little voice in the back of your head
telling you what to do, guiding you
from right and wrong

what happens when it leaves you
when you are left to fend for yourself
when the world becomes silent

how long could you survive

uncivilized;

uncivilized, they said
like a ragged train wreck
an animal on the loose
most definitely inhuman.

where does such a vision
such ideology extend from?

"all animals are equal,
but some are more equal than others"

how scary the irony
of how it seems to be taken to heart
by closed-minded individuals
who believe it is their birthright
to be superior to others.

it is an asinine revelation.

guilty;

guilty, a feeling all too familiar
reverberating throughout the years
from childhood to adulthood
haunting me along every path.

i feel as if i am hitting my head
against a brick wall i cannot break down
forever to stand before me
blocking the exit to the new world.

running and running
but never-ending
and no where to hide.

how to overcome it
how to leave the past behind
how to go on forward.

haunting love;

can you not see that she remembers
the details are so crystal clear
the moving pictures so vivid
the memory so haunting.

love
what is that which we call love
affection?
infatuation?
obsession?

the beautiful heartbreak that was the outcome
from a world that held no joy
but only sadness and fear
from whom we trust.

what do they think
when the turn their heads away
from the multicolored bruises
that decorate pale skin.

why do they ignore
when we call out for help
why do they let it go.

pretty little bracelet;

pretty little bracelet
resting beautifully on a thin wrist
sparkling in the limelight
exactly where it should be.

but a little too small it became
a little too tight it hugged the skin
indentations imprinted
as if to mark its territory.

so a grip and a pull
to free oneself
like a bird in a gilded cage
but still a prisoner
no matter how pretty the shackles.

and then the final spring
a burst of beads flying
clattering to the marble ground
and running off in all directions
every harsh memory fading away.

no more is the wrist captive
no more can that beautiful disguise control
free, free, free
just as we always should have been.

free fall;

that endless plummeting downward
spiraling out of control
yet so focused and steady at the same
a journey that sees no end.

the blur of everything rushing by
a free fall with no direction and no purpose
but only existing for the sake
of existing
like everything else.