This is a Knife,
This is a Palm
This is a burn,
Gone is the balm

This is a wound,
Raw as can be
This is a smile,
In Two Thousand Three

This is her face,
And his, his, and hers
This is them smiling,
Smiling like curs

I can’t let go,
The hatred too strong
I cannot stop,
Inspiration has waited too long

Someone need comment,
Oh comment I beg
I am barely awake,
So desperately I beg

I can’t take no more,
No Caulfied am I,
To gin a body catch a body
Comin’ through the rye

Someone please stop
The madness that does abound
Does no one know,
How to end this monologue tragedy bound?


So soft spoken,
Though you always had dad’s ear
So beautiful,
Though every brother would sneer

So kind
Though we never did find,
So always
Always on my mind

I love you beyond words,
And every day
I wish you were here,
Those words to hear me say

I love you always
Every year,
This day my heart breaks

No one knows,
They never will see
Aicha every day,
This pain I feel

Passing me by…

Coward of the County

A coward, A coward

A coward is he?

Who so in pain,

Doth not the silent killer seek? 


Is valiant, so valiant

This Knight you speak?

So mirrored by all,

In Admiration is he?


So forgotten, not gotten

So left aside is he?

Who so desperately,

Sought some comfort did he…


Some pillow or shoulder,

Or arm did he seek,

That in the cold did his hand,

In the fog blindly wish to meet


Some friendly face

Or smile did assure,

He is not yet redundant

Though this new one did soar


Oh so blindly,

And emptily did he pray

And if they ask did tomorrow,

Nothing shall he say…


She is gone, so is he

And they have no more,

Sides have been chosen,

And they Have No More