selfishness is all you knew.
Your blood sucking ways bled me dry.
left me nothing but an empty shell.
beyond introverted, beyond shy.

you locked away the best parts of me.
and let loose the ugly truths.’
a hideous pattern of self destruction.
your ever growing demon fruits.

your darkness became all i knew.
consuming every happy thought.
to hide away and lie to myself.
became all i ever sought.

Your dark whispers in my ear.
my mercy at your feet.
like a fast approaching thunder storm.
you hit hard and fast and made me weep.

pushing away those who wanted to help.
and those willing to understand.
accepting feelings of loneliness and despair.
i crumbled at your evil command.

It was time for you to go.
but your grasp was tighter than ever.
I tried so hard to break free.
But your power was one that i could not sever.

desperate and losing faith.
suffering some kind of insanity.
with your demon like spirit inside my head.
I was losing grip with humanity.

left with no ounce of self control.
taking everything for granted.
brainwashed by something alien.
anything destructive you had planted.

but when you took the things i loved.
when you left me naked on the floor.
there’s one thing you didn’t count on.
a tiny ounce of will, burried deep within my core.

picking myself up, and brushing myself off.
standing tall with my head held high.
I gathered up all remaining strength.
I sent you packing, i broke the tie.

The pain you caused me.
The desperation you made me feel.
Never again will you be allowed to consume me.
or take away all that i know is real.

I am not the girl i used to be.
the one you selfishly took away.
her innocent mind was never for you
And be sure, one day you will pay.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Devil In Disguise.

I think really hard about all of our memories,
I hope one day the war will finally be over.
I’ll miss her beautiful blue eyes,
Goodbye mum.

I know that someday mum will get me,
and save my life from a cruel person
i just know,
Goodbye mum.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Goodbye mum..

Would you support that somebody denounced the situation of the woman who shouts every night next door?
What would you do if pass the days and the denunciation does not come?
And if that someone had to be you?
If it wins you love for women do not read on, you have things to do.

Do you know that there are people who do not
know if it is night or day because a hood covers
always their head?
Would you calm knowing that they deserve
punishment by terrorists and criminals?
Do you still thinks it is fair if tomorrow they put
you the hood and could not even plead for
innocence? …and really are you?
If it wins you love for human rights, do not Keep
reading, you have things to do.

Do you know that there are workers who sleep under the tables where they work?
Do You know that you buy things they produce because they are cheap?
Do you think they have holidays, decent wages, unions and social security?
If it wins you love for manufactured things do not read on, you have things to do.

Can you chute a ball sewn with bloodied hands of a small Indian boy?
Do you think that being a trivial game behind it everything is innocent?
Do you think at least he has a job and earn a salary?
If it wins you love for children, do not read on, you have things to do.

Do you give alms to beggars in the street?
Would you rather think that they did something bad to finish thus?
Would you refuse to give believing that many of them are part of charity’s mafia?
If it wins you love to society, you can not continue reading, you have things to do.

If you’ve come this far and nothing touches you,
if you feel a simple gear without force,
if no other people’s injustice mobilizes you,
this book will not be closed,
nor it will deny its words to you,
but you can not continue reading.
Because you’re blind.

from the my book  ‘The love for manufactured things’,  by Xavier Molina, 2008

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at The love for manufactured things.

My head’s in the sand,
And my butt’s in the air,
I’m hiding from trouble,
Not saying a prayer.

I think no one sees me,
I’m far out of sight,
Now all’s back to normal,
And everything’s right.

If I can’t see hunger,
It doesn’t exist,
If nations are fighting,
I can’t see their fist.

I live in my darkness,
And all is so fine,
The world is not ending,
I can’t see the sign.

But while I am living,
Down here in my rut,
The real world is out there,
Attacking my butt.

by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Head In The Sand.