Mar 13

land of broken steel

All that was left in the 
aftermath of his arrival was
ash and dust,
ash and dust.

Everything before he came,
before his footsteps touched our ground was
gold and silver,
gold and silver.

All that was
when he was here was
fire and steel,
fire and steel.

All that could have been 
if he had not found us is
trampled and crushed,
trampled and crushed.

My future, my past,
my present, before him are merely
ash and dust,
ash and dust.
Mar 11

Into the distant blue.

Do you remember when 
we used to play together 
all the time?

Today I just watch you 
look away from me because
I don't think you like me

Do you remember when
we used to be each others 
best friends?

Today I just watch you
hang out with another crowd,
the ones who are more popular
than I'll ever be,
the ones who care about their looks
and their clothes and their makeup 
and the boys.

Do you remember when
we used to tell each other
our secrets?

Now I don't tell you anything
because the conversation doesn't
come as easily anymore
I don't trust as easily anymore
because you have betrayed 
too many times.

Do you remember when we used
to trade glances and plan the future
where we would still be friends?

Now we still want the same things
Mar 09

A million possibilities


Do I feel safe?

"Why do they have us hide in the corner?"
says one of my friends.
"It's school, it's not like the shooter
is stupid enough to think we won't be there!
They'll hear the drill, won't they?
they'll know we're hiding."

Hiding in a corner
squeezing our eyes shut
hoping that the breath 
won't be the last we breathe
that day.

Hiding in a corner hoping that
this is just another drill,
that we won't be another Parkland
that our world won't collapse
around us.

Hiding in a corner
pieces of nightmares we have all had
flashing through our heads
and thinking about friends
that could be lost.

Hiding in a corner
we were giggling a little bit once
but that was before we heard
of the people that barged in and
had a gun in their hand,
before we heard of the seventeen dead.

Hiding in a corner,
Mar 08

Forever Watching

Watching the flower wilt
because the dark thorns 
choked it out and 
killed the rose petals
that only grow in the light.

Watching your eyes 
look away, away from me and
maybe from what we could be
and you can't see,
but everyday my eyes 
are shattering.

Watching the world spin
around, around and away from me
because it can't stop when I stop
so I feel the pull of gravity
pull me towards and endless sea.

Watching the sea swallow
up, up and drowning me
and I feel the water rush over my eyes
the sting of saltwater and suddenly
I cannot see.

Watching the ground break
apart, apart and underneath me
and I feel the dirt clogging my lungs
even though I am not six feet under
because of the nightmares
haunting me.

Watching my tears well up
and fall down, down and into 
the darkening stars that are fading
Mar 06

I don't care

I don't care!
she laughs, when people 
criticize her appearance
and she turns away.

I don't care!
she says when the grade turns up
less than expected 
and everyone stares.

I don't care!
she says when people ignore me
and write over what 
she has to say.

I do care.
she whispers as she looks
at herself in the mirror
wondering why they 
don't like her.

I do care.
she whispers to herself when
the grades turn up less 
than expected and she spends
long nights studying,

I do care.
she whispers to herself
when other write over 
what she has to say,
so long struggling over a voice
to have it trampled.

I don't care
I do care.

I don't
I do.
Mar 04


They call him a hero.
He marches across the battlefield,
decimating our enemy,
his armour shining 
in the light.

They call him a hero.
He and his army run through country sides 
killling all movement 
the blood on his armour a crimson red
against shining gold.

They call him a hero, 
his army ransacks and pillages,
killing mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters.
The souls of the fallen,
the innocent,
are etched onto his sword.

They call him a hero.

I don't believe them.

Hear me

I can't be heard,
whispers amond blasts.

I don't have a voice.
I speak in my mind.

I can't stand up 
when others refuse 
to stand.
I will stay seated among the masses.

I might be heard
sill talking in the midst of yells.

I'm finding my voice,
I speak.

I'm scared to stand up
when others refuse to stand.
I do not want to be shunned
or stand out.

I can be heard,
I scream and shout.

I have a voice,
I speak out loud.

I will stand up when others
refuse to stand,
I will lead them to 
a better future.

Mar 01

Risen yet fallen

I try to see you 
but every time you slip away 
to a place beyond my 

I try to read the faces
but they are all masks, 
a wolf
in sheeps clothing.

I try to figure out 
what is wrong with me 
because I can't see 
the bones against 
my skin.

I try to sing,
to talk but there is a void
where my voice used to be
now a whisper in the clamors 
of galaxies.

I try to cry,
to give form to the destruction
that there is inside 
but they gather in a ball 
in my throat.

I will not love,
because of the disasters 
that I fear 

I will not pray,
because every time I ask
and I get let down
a piece of me breaks

I will not fall,
because every time I do,
it feels harder to get up,
the bruises and cuts
staying until

I will not rest,
Feb 25

The girl who loved monsters

In the fairytales,
there is always a dragon who must be defeated,
a maiden in need of saving,
and a knight in shining armour, 
come to save the maiden and slay the dragon.

She would always read these tales
and in every book she would always 
stroke the drawings of the dragon,
green scales and glowing eyes.

She grew up, and in every book,
she would still be attracted to the monsters,
the whispering creatures of the night
that were always portrayed as the evil
who had glinting eyes and long sharp claws.

She scavenged hungrily to find more
of these monsters in brightly colored ancient books
that described ancient monsters and creatures
that they feared roamed the night.

She studied them and looked into their past,
her love growing with every second, 
immersing herself in mystical facts and cultures
in hopes that she could see them someday,
Feb 21

A fountain of tears

"When the children act like leaders
and the leaders act like children,
you know there's something wrong"

Their tears drip into 
a fountain that 
was built after 
the first shooting.

It is marble,
the names of the dead 
carved onto the white marble
by their souls.

There are so many.
Too many.

Their blood
stains your hands 
because you might not 
have pulled the trigger,
but you allowed it 
to be pulled.

I can see the red 
soaked deep into 
the flesh and blood of 
the country.

There is so much blood.
Too much blood.

Their screams ring out
but you try to drown them out
with futile rebuttals 
and long talks about nothing,
but talking does not mean 

I can hear the screams
so loudly they
echo in my ears