thoughts from someone proud


A Message




Hatred is the sister of loneliness

The empty hearts of the bullies that judge and criticize

No one can ever tell who are those are by looking into ones eyes

That they in fact are the ones in pain, the unique, different but always ashamed..


There are those ashamed of being who they are

Some you can tell from the scars on there arms.

There are those who feel that there own pain takes away

from the horrifying reality they face everyday.


Is this the kind of message we want to relay?

What about our kids when they go outside to play,

They see a kid on the swings, different from them, and think.

“Well mommy and daddy wouldn't like him.“


So they ignore him, and there friends do.

Then that sad little kid on the swings

becomes “the kid no one wants to talk to” .

Then he goes through life .


Not knowing what he did, but becomes depressed

and demoralized from everyone

cast down, hated on his whole entire life

through his own community’s eyes.


Then the names get harsher,

the violence continues, the voices in his head screams

“You don’t have this in you!”

“You cant keep on going.” “You're breaking!” ..and before he knows it

the impacts gets bigger.

He finds himself with his finger on he trigger.






The Aftermath



So now you’ve got a mother crying, kids denying

that they weren’t the ones that caused the pain

he was going through that he

had other issues that no one knew about .


That they weren’t the ones that gave him the blade,

or the gun, or the knife. And take no responsibility

for him ending his life!


It didnt have to end that way

think it through..

now you a life that has ended and there’s no going back

I know everyone wishes they could change the past


That is not the way of things

It was taken, no more laughter, no more playing on swings,

No more more smiles, or birthdays, or singing.

A life is precious , everyone deserves to be happy living.


In reality , all he was was just a kid

like so many of us, with no where else to turn .

Do you think by now weve learned?

No ? How many people have to die before we get it through our heads.


We are all the same

no matter what our religion

or who we wanna love, or the color of our skin.

Love is love. It has no gender, and it doesn’t judge.  

This poem is about: 
Our world


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