A ransacked village in India is where my lineage began

Women.

Women, I will

And

Can never, ever know.

Tribulations my western brain

Cannot comprehend.

They made me.

I have the blood of

Hundreds

momma momma momma

it was ricky it was ricky

momma don’t believe that it was ricky who done it

she thinks i killed him

momma momma momma

don’t call the fuzz

it was ricky it was ricky

The horror, the brutality

eats away at my heart until I no longer

see the need to go on.

I bite my lip,

holding in the

rage,

the remorce

the screams

I want the world to hear.

but they won’t.

On the way to the hospital I could feel no pain, but I knew what he had done to me earlier that day. I had just flown in from Kansas City, and it was my first day in Vegas. My dad had already gone to work, and grandma was out back mowing the lawn, unable to hear the sounds around her.

Regretful murder suicides

Or better yet, just suicides.

Acting as if you knew all about it,

You’re helping a lot,

Really, you’re not.

A class clown attempted murder today.

A mother’s little boy,

a child’s best friend,

a teacher’s beloved terror,

stood over the monster who raised his freckly faced son

like the animal he’d become,

clutching a knife.

They are dangerous and frightening,

Like a strike of lightning.

You have to watch out,

Because they can black you out.

You try to hold back,

Until the police come attack.

Watch out they’re coming,

A gun’s cause’s harm

To the innocent

And gives fairness to the verdict

It’s not really the gun but,

The soul behind the gun