Valhalla

Try as we might,

Try as we may.

Believe as we see,

And do as we dream.

Try to make this world,

Better than a poem,

Strung together with words,

Made by a high schooler.

With words from their own self,

Be with the wind,

Don’t fight it.

And imagine the place that,

Those have fought over,

Over the lands of Valhalla.

The seas,

The currents,

The Breeze,

Our own world is falling,

Help pick it up,

Before it is too late….

Suffocated Hearts

Try not to take this personally,

But all I see,

And all I hear,

Is the sounds of you and your perilous hounds.

Making us all cry,

Out the things that you’d never hear,

Of the things that we’d never be

Continually being suffocating.

Disaster is striking in the hearts that have shattered.

That have screamed out their final goodbyes,

Their sorrows,

Their pain,

Their loneliness,

This is the last time that I shall have heard of you,

But you continually hunt me down to shatter me too,

Me and my heart are having too much we might break,

As we lay to rest down in this downcast street.

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Understanding the not understood,

And taking in what flight can become,

The raw nature of not knowing and,

Taking in that leap of faith that has nothing left .

The trees sway,

And the breeze takes way.

And the water trickles down the slope beyond the eye can see,

As I stand in the wind at the top of the bluff,

Now understanding the not understood.

Tired

I’m tired.

Oh so tired.

That’s the thing though,

Is that the only thing that I ever say to people,

Is the fact of how tired I am.

And what that means to me,

Isn’t that sort of depressing?

How pathetic am I?

The only thing that I can think of to say is my own feelings.

Not taking into consideration of what others think,

Or feel,

Or say.

It’s like this way I don't have to feel.

Just stay away.

And be afraid.

Of the light of day.

And how it shines in my eyes.

And makes me blinded by the light,

Just letting it take me away,

To better days.

War Bodies

She wears it well,

The tunic that her mother and I gave her on her 15th birthday,

She was so majestic.

So heavenly.

I guess that suits her,

An Angel,

My sweet,

Loving,

Beautiful,

Angel.

My daughter,

Sweet Fereshteh.

Who lies in this pitiful soil,

Her hair which was as black as night,

Her eyes as blue as the daytime sky,

She was a beauty.

And now her skin is pale,

Her eyes have lost their shine.

Her voice no more,

The war has gotten her.

My sweet angel,

My sweet girl,

She is lost to me.

But I will weep no more,

For this beautiful,

Young,

Daughter of mine,

Fereshteh will be with Allah forever more.

Floor

Most junkies cripple over and fall to the floor,

Their domain should be on the floor,

But don't discriminate because,

One day,

We will be laid to rest,

In the floor.

War?

How angry could man get?

I mean between the wars and the armies,

Life of anger will be never ending.

A life of painful regrets,

Guilty memories,

And most of all a hellish life

Of madness.

Illegal Aliens

LIfe is sad and most of all disappointing,

It's depressing and sure as hell entertaining.

It might be just the meds that I am taking,

Or the fever that is burning inside me,

The thoughts that I haven't showed myself yet to be.

I just want to tell you this,

That the aliens that have been plaguing our lands,

Making sure that jobs are being taken by them,

And being sure as hell that they are stealing our freedom of a safe world,

And these aliens...

Are the people that my mother before me had come from,

Who she was birthed from.

Who I came from.

And they aren't taking the freedom from our lives,

Or taking our jobs from underneath us,

Or making sure that this world is hopeless for us,

So don't tell me that an illegal alien doesn't matter.

Because all lives matter!

And so did she.

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Sadness and sorrow,

What it is to relive it,

What it is to grow,

Bloom.

Exceed life in every way imaginable,

And finally understand what the world is,

It’s made of hate and cruelty,

And most of all,

Shame.

War Cries

Maybe life should not be all about this madness...

Where the wars are the only thing on everyone’s heads,

The only thing that we can make profit on,

The only thing we worry,

Think,

And act upon.

This war has got our heads turning,

Our thoughts churning,

And bad ideas sworming.

The thought about our cold, hard reality slowly sinks in,

And we are left to be mere tiny husks of what once was.

We are the existence of man,

The experience we have this year is not what we strive for,

But now among others is what we are known for,

No matter the tough things that others try to make up for the sins that we carried.

It can not be met and we cannot regain our composure,

Our lives cannot be trusted.

Among those this war is against,

The people we call aliens.

Whom are no different than ourselves,

But who are different because of the fact,

That they come from outside our borders,

And have no certification to be in these lands.

And yet they come,

To set our world into chaos,

But acting upon the will of wanting to be saved,

To be free.

To be calmed.

To be where the hell isn’t.

Otherwise known as...

Cured.