Leave what’s LEFT behind
Till you’re found RIGHT there
LEFT RIGHT there
LEFT RIGHT there

WHEN I WAS BORN MY DADDY LEFT! left, right, left.
LATER ON MY MOMMA LEFT! left, right, left.

I was LEFT RIGHT behind
left, right, left

The cold seeps through the beggar's hands,
Clinging for warmth, slowly fading.
The sun is far from him right now,
He cannot chase it.

His sun shined away from him;
For he is no use,
For he is not special,
For he is but a dog.

Obligated to stay and be abandoned;
Abruptly and forced to wait,
With no warmth and sunlight.

The man can be replaced but not the sun.

I was floating in honey.
The viscosity of the substance
Made it so that, while I still needed to work
To keep my head afloat,
I had a little extra support.
So I didn't have to do it alone.
And it was good.

But my temperature began to rise.
I became too hot too fast, and,
Because of my actions
I started to destroy the beneficial parts
That the honey needed to remain useful and healthy.
So the honey reacted:
Threw my melting self out of its jar.
I tried to jump back in
But the honey firmly ******* its lid back on,
And my charring fists
Fruitlessly pounded on the boundary
The honey had erected.

Then as my body and brain burned,
The other honey jars disappeared-
Distancing in acts of self-preservation.
I knew how I could get my temperature
Back to baseline.
I just needed a little help
So I could work to get back to my normal self.
But my actions had pushed away what I needed.
So I accepted the fate I had caused,
And allowed my body to fall to ash.

I wake up in the darkness of the morning, panicked and alone
Your absence has left a suffocating emptiness in me, after all the warmth I was shown
I thought you would be here always, because you promised me you would be
But I’m just sitting here alone, next to the spot where you should be
You told me your love was unceasing, that it would last forever  
Then why aren’t you here, we need to be together
I still add to our playlists, hoping you’ll see
That we are so connected, that we are meant to be
I wish you would come back, but you told me you won’t
So I’m left here alone, writing the universe a note

Creative,
Joyous,
Carefree.

A life of a child
Is nothing but a mix of the three.

For when a child grows
And speak from their souls,
Connection is lost,
Becoming unknown.
Leaving the child to bear alone.

We mimic tradition,
Refuse to listen,
To the little ones who
See us as reason.

And as your little child cries,
You spew great lies;

'You have no place here in this family!'

You have abandoned them,
And Ridiculed them
To the highest of degree.

But all for reason,
That they are not the vision
you wish for them to be.

One by one
the list gets longer.
Promises of continuity
turn into emotional tourism.
The word "goodbye"
has built a permanent home
behind my teeth.
But despite the familiarity,
I am still left with a bitter taste.
Alone, I choke on the silence
as I sit in the presence
you once filled
wondering what the hell
is so wrong with me
that no one ever stays