At the start, there were many
just like me: a town full of us.
Now, my heart stays empty.
A store once stood where I
am standing. A church, once
alive, has been laid to rest.
A school that once thrived
is now a page in the history
books. A hospital that once
stood strong is long gone.
Many fled the tiny town,
and some stayed to face
the inevitable destruction
coming their way. Lives
were lost in the small war.
All I could do was watch
as fire surrounded, leaving
me stranded. Many years
later, there is only one left.
I am the man who made it.
I survived life’s greatest
test, and I see the world
for what it is. I am blessed
to be the only one left.
Shoutout to my day ones! They keep me grounded.
My day ones have been there; they have been
around. They were there to keep me safe – to help
me, even if it was late. My day ones showed me
a light that was kept from my sight. Day in,
day out, life became more important. Life
suddenly was a flame that could now be tamed.
In the midst of chaos, we would not focus on
the loss. We had fun with no attention paid
to the cost. My day ones are real ones. I know
I can count on them. They know I am there
for them, and I always have been. Day one:
our lives began. Then, we noticed the fast
hands of time. Now, we wish we can hit
rewind. Time’s flown, and my friends and I,
well, we are grown. Regardless, my day
ones may have aged, but our love for each-
other has come and has remained the same.
Let’s take it back
to the way it was
before the rain
dropped from above.
The days were green;
the sun surfaced often
as it illuminated dreams
people were caught in.
Impossible to notice,
my life has changed
as my eyes grow wiser
than my age – and memories
as my soul reaches
the next stage.
Genre-Bender, a true game changer
With touches of spice and pinches of seasoning,
Developed in a person hiding in danger
To create a new genre with no reasoning.
Why must a sound hit every ear the same?
To make one hear the normal created.
She held back an identity not easily tamed
To function in a world not so shaded.
As her sound waves exited the stereo,
I appreciated her genre,
The parts that made her sound different.
and the notes she hit that reminded me
Of my mamma.
When the song ended, I realized
her purpose and my stereo-type.
Her antennas told a story of personal demise
Yet her sound was so ripe.
I cannot listen to just one song of hers
Because it reveals a life quite mixed
And I cannot open just a few doors
As her genre enters a heart now fixed.
As my chest notices a familiar burn,
Waves of relief course through my veins.
Washing out pain and concern
As each inhale breaks my chains.
My memory fades from white to black
When clouds quickly escape lungs deflated.
Exiting a dark place exisiting in the back
Of my brain, the part most shaded.