Diglossia Girl

This mother is great,
simply because she always cares.
She always shows her love
the best that she knows how.

Although her children may sometimes think
she does not do quite as well as another could,
they should always know:
this mother tries her very best.

Each mother has her very own fingerprint.
She has a special way, all of her own,
to say that she loves you.

I thank you, Mother, for taking all you know
and trying your very best to raise four children
all on your own.
Thank you, Mother, for helping them grow.

Although they may not see
the tender care and love you show,
let this poem brighten your day
reminding you that this mother is great.

Simply because she tries her very best.

silence slithers through the crowd
spreading, spreading fear and doubt
clouds cover all the sky
darkness, darkness coming nigh

thousands running, running
children screaming unheard cries
loud, louder piercing screams
no one hears nor do they care

Bang! silent yet again.

bodies lying on the ground
murk and mystery all around
motionless, the smell of death

a war inside but no one won
hopes were raised, but all was lost
where is the sense in battling yourself?

suicide, suicide, down at the speed of life
the clouds are gone
the sky is clear and he sun shines bright
no one even remembers you

The pain lingers in my chest
like a dagger's open wound--
unwilling to heal,
unwilling to bleed the venomous rust.

I desperately want to tell you my desires,
but instead, I keep them contained,
locked away deep inside,
like a letter in a coffin
buried in the ground.

The words inside my soul are never to be spoken,
never to be heard,
and never to be seen
by you, my loved one.

I'll keep them from you because I know you'll criticize,
deny,
tell me I don't quite understand.

Sugar coat another excuse for me, Dear.
Please, make it sweet and sincere.
Go ahead, shove the dagger in a little deeper.
Don't listen to a word I say--I'll take the pain.
Yes, I'll let it linger in my chest.

Just kiss me, Dear.
You'll never know I'm dying.

Leaves changing colors--red, yellow,
orange, and brown.
They fall, so gently, to the ground.
A single park bench sits alone
in the middle of October.

A young girl sits quietly,
thinking to herself of all
that her life contains.

Hopes and dreams are not far off,
and certainly not out of reach.

Her only hindrance is not knowing
which is best.
Thinking, thinking, through and through,
deeper, deeper her thoughts progress.

Silent waves caress her thoughts,
but her curiosity is not assuaged.
The whispering winds blow her hair,
but she fails to notice.

Lost in the middle of October,
a young girl dreams of what her life
could be.