This poem is for the victims of v-tech :(
32 please define
A number we no longer denie
The matter is not that a man of greed did 32 bad deeds to meet his needs
But that 32 people as innocent as can be shall never again see.
And that 32 were wronged as their friends sang tragic songs.
Not songs of words. But tears. Tears that came from fear.
And all they could do was hide, wipe their eyes and watch 32 bluebirds die as they continued to cry.
The horrors are gone. it feels like they just begun
The man said he had fun.
And to that fair song bird he shouted what the heck and defined 32 neck by neck.
What is 32? I cant say and to try would be vain. But 32 song birds are songless and will never sing again.
His Last Night
Blaring voices from a bullhorn fell upon deaf ears.
Numbness slowly seeping through the man-boy's brain,
conquering it as he tunneled through
sheet rock into the last uncaring hotel room.
Like a trapped animal he fled, seeking to preserve
all the hopes and dreams he was never allowed to attain.
All too soon, he recognizes it is not meant to be. He has to run, once again for the last time.
Cold metal burning into his palm, fleeting images
flickering through his last thoughts.
Me. You. Hope I see you again. So weary.
No more strength to fight. So much easier to curl up
and remember one last time.
Family. Brother. Mother. Lover. The friends, all too few.
Hope they understand.
Jaw clenching as he prepared for the last sound he would
He saw her hair, free and rippling, her mouth curving in a smile
as she gently ran one hand over him,
smoothing his brow in a loving caress.
His face relaxed as he thought of her eyes gazing upon him,
lashes fluttering for one moment, one last time,
as she once again kept his mind clear enough to focus.
And when it came, it was painless and he could feel her love all around him.