victims
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Life is not a walk in the park
Not a nice park anyway
Yes, there are trees and flowers
And lovely sunsets too
But
Under the picture-perfect skies
The brutal game is on
Lethal Thermobaric Bombs
Also known as vacuum bombs
Sucking the oxygen out of the air
For many miles. Nuclear and cluster bombs
I saw the trademark on your face the true evil grin and eyes of sin violence covered her body in lace disappeared without a trace I saw the pity the and sorrow on your face Never getting out alive you say how pretty I am with fear imprinted and fr
How can I hate those who raised me, When I am their baby? And I know that they hurt me, But I have been learning, That they are people too, There's a bunch of fucking shit that they went through.
For the victims,
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry because your country has failed you,
as it has failed countless others before you,
and unless we make changes
I awake with a scream,
my ears still ringing
from the gunshots and yelling,
the hymns we were singing.
We march in the streets
and we all yell some more.
But it falls on deaf ears
In some places, scars are
The most goregous, glimmering things you've ever seen.
Intricate designs telling of forgotten pains
And forged of blood.
They speak to the strength of their owner.
Her smile shines like the bright sun
Teacher's plush pink lips
Move fluently as she speaks to us
"How about we play a game, class?"
My face lights up
I love teacher's games!
Dear victims,
Dear that kid in the corner , who is afraid to raise a hand
Dear that girl in the locker room, who is afraid to dress again
Dear that boy getting punched from a so-called " friend "
CAN YOU IMAGINE?
YOU WATCHED IT.
BUT,
DID YOU FEEL IT?
BAM. BAM.
DID YOU HEAR?
THOSE WHERE THE BODIES HITTING THE GROUND
AFTER WAVING GOOD BYE BEFORE JUMPING OFF THE BUILDING.
Some nights, I can't sleep! I wonder why?
Some nights, I wonder where I stand in life.
Other nights, I feel afraid, almost destressed.
Resting nights, angels soars at my presences.
Think of me as delicate, crippled and easy for you to destroy;
crawling on my hands and knees, a burned and sickly looking toy.
Think of me as enslaved, trapped inside your hands
When I was thirteen,
I had my first f***.
Sex has this positive connotation
Of being greatly enjoyable by both participants
The guy’s feeling fly, girl’s feeling high
And for this feeling,
Caw, caw, caw!
The crow goes.
Boom, boom, boom!
My heartbeat grows.
I stare at my window Waiting, waiting.
Fear enveloping my mind and soul.
