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Stand up quietly Push in the chair. Line up single file Next to the door. Remain quiet Still in a single line When in the hallways. Do not speak Unless you are spoken to. Raise your hand And ask permission To function As a normal Human being. You are not training children to be individuals
Color forms under the skin, Sensations growing within. Lost in the moment of panic, Overcome with the manic. Holding breath, gasping for air, Dreaming of oxygen that isn’t there. Going till the blood drips out, Then go again, a true devout. The mind in overload, Clenching a torn fist. Ripping open the gash, To let
I dove a weak hand into my pocket, hoping to find more than a dime, but all I touched was the broken locket from the depths of this hollow socket to remind me I was low on time. I handed over the trinket to the jeweler, and say that payment is soon to come, but
I should’ve picked up the phone, I had your number there on the table. I should’ve taken a drive, I know I was more than able. I should’ve let my curiosity win, And find out if you wanted me too. I should’ve gotten over the fear, Of being rejected by you. I should’ve ignored the
When the Starbucks workers spell my name wrong, even when I did not spell it out for them. Or the shapes of different people’s heads are just slightly off. When someone tells me to calm down when I am most enraged. Or when people do not get exactly what I want to say when I
Everyone is bi-polar, we live in such a society, where the lines are a blur, Wondering how we came from where we were, To a life of pure anxiety. We have two types to face. When we are out in the open we walk at a different pace then when we are alone, where the
For years I spent wandering in the dark, never truly sure what it was I was looking for. Somewhere in the mist of the chaos I had lost my sense of belonging. The feeling of knowing my place in the world and how exactly I was to make a difference. I think back on my
I carry you with me everywhere I go. No one else has golden hair, so when I see it, I know that the blonde hair upon my sweater was yours and because of it my day gets better. The memory of your face, from every morning, lingers in my mind, and serves as a warning
I don’t know what to write I have no freaking clue It’s like the words just slip Right out of my head. But there are many words Stuck inside my head, In fact it’s constantly stuffed With words words words. But I still have no clue What I should write about Maybe something meaningful Or
No one knows what the future holds, but I still think about what’s to be, when I consider everything we do to the planet we live on for free. In the mornings I used to sit quietly, listen to the gentle chirping of birds, wondering what they sang so sweetly about, with their bright, feathery
Sy Redemption 