Already Forgotten Read online

great experiences and unforgettable conclusions

  Will let them grow.

  Of course, in the end

  When they shriek,

  The damaged and broken

  Will go and seek.

  World Ceiling

  Open plains are perfect for stargazing.

  So many stars,

  So many places.

  Observing all the signs while lying in the night,

  Recalling emotions never felt so right.

  In brightness there’s dark.

  In darkness there’s light.

  What’s inside?

  What came by,

  When gazing at the sky?

  Serenity can be achieved

  In the sound of the breeze.

  Relief can be won

  When the time has come.

  Although we must go

  And live a life unknown,

  There will always be a missed feeling

  That the deepest truths were never shown.

  Special Place

  There’s a place Id’ like to go.

  Everyone is going to be there:

  Past relatives,

  Old friends,

  And a few other familiar faces.

  I’ve never seen this place before.

  I can’t visit,

  but I’ve felt the atmosphere.

  So inviting and welcoming.

  There’s no place on Earth like it.

  Often times I dream about what I

  would do there

  And who won’t be there, either because

  They weren’t invited or they found a way

  To skip it.

  My mind debates whether or not to attend.

  My body hates the feeling when I’m close

  to the entrance.

  Constantly I think,

  Where else should I go?

  Soft Strength

  Gentleness comes at a price.

  Just the act alone is fearful.

  To appear vulnerable and reveal inner weaknesses

  can be tumultuous if done at the wrong time,

  Especially with the wrong person.

  Once the hull has been breached

  There is no stopping the harshness in return.

  At the same time there is no blocking

  unconditional love from finding its way in and

  going where it needs to be.

  Filling in that emptiness with something so raw

  And necessary is sublime and often times heavy.

  Preparation can’t do anything to make it easier,

  but with true embrace and open acceptance

  The release can feel natural.

  Last Day

  Let us say our final words to our fallen friend.

  To the entire world she was merely a number,

  Another statistic.

  To the rest of us she was a true human.

  No better,

  No different.

  How she met her end is disturbing to say the least.

  For what happened in a few minutes turned into a lifetime of grief.

  So please speak now;

  Tell her what you always wanted her to know.

  And we will listen with compassion and with care

  Until you feel her death has been atoned.

  If I can go first, I would like to say that

  no matter what she did and how she lived

  I always loved her…

  Whatever she went through I tried to be there.

  We hardly ever have control of what happens to us.

  To me, that’s really unfair.

  Her choices were made by her and her alone.

  But the deeds she suffered through

  By the doing of this cruel world

  Forced her to decide her fate.

  My poor little girl.

  I concur.

  When I look into the mirror I see her face on mines.

  She had sincere eyes and her hero’s smile.

  This is the worse pain,

  To never be able to hold your child.

  My relationship with her doesn’t run as deep;

  I am only an acquaintance.

  Forgive me if I tear up,

  I’ll be quick with my statement.

  In the short time I knew her, I gathered all

  I needed to know

  about the type of person she was...

  Kind, sweet, considerate.

  I want to show her how much of a difference

  she’s made for me

  But it’s too late for that, isn’t it?

  I can only say thank you and

  wish it hadn’t ended this way.

  Maybe I’ll see you again someday.

  I can only be truthful when I say what

  I need to say.

  She was no saint.

  She was no angel.

  Her flaws

  outgrew her perfection.

  Her actions

  weren’t substantial…

  Whether she’ll wear horns or a halo,

  I’m not certain.

  To me, she was another person.

  Not worth it.

  Not important…

  Let me be the one to conclude this ceremony.

  It is only fitting that the person responsible has the last word.

  I, of course, am free.

  And in some cases

  Live with small guilt like a curse.

  My apologies, sincerely.

  I lived in the moment and in return brought

  death at an instant.

  In the future I’ll recall the incident.

  Not behind bars,

  but behind closed doors.

  I’ll keep what I did to myself until

  I’m buried under the floor.

  Until then I walk on.

  No matter how much you hate it

  The law has spoken.

  I didn’t try to go after her.

  She just happened to be chosen.

  I’m not asking for forgiveness or compassion,

  Not at this moment.

  I’m asking you to move on and let it go.

  I have a bigger voice so I’ll speak for her.

  It’s what she would’ve wanted.

  In the end the victim died forty years later.

  This gathering was held the next morning

  After the event.

  What I knew of her came from images and clips

  Some taunting and slandering.

  The only reference I had to understand

  what transpired and the state of mind she was in

  Came within the confines of a notebook

  filled with scribbled words, written in pen.

  I read what she wrote.

  I wept at every line.

  I still can’t comprehend how they said her being the victim

  was the cause of the crime.

  Her last days couldn’t have been enjoyable.

  In a flash everything changed.

  By tomorrow more goodbyes will be sent

  And there will be more days of the same.

  Living Horror

  A ghost haunts its own memories in search of

  an answer.

  This infinite loop is a trap.

  Having to re-live troubling moments

  is a grave journey,

  Perilous and daunting.

  Life in a tomb is more fulfilling

  than wandering aimlessly without any idea of a destination.

  Leaving is impossible.

  Accepting the truth is heartbreaking.

  Other options cause more disdain for the

  current condition.

  Burying any optimism becomes necessary.

  Already dead and can’t imagine a new life.

  Being reborn is more of a curse.

  Spiritual decay encapsulates the essence of time.

  Eternally sulking in a dense revelation

  that re
maining here is the fulfilling of

  a promise

  Made on the behalf of the order of

  Inception.

  Ask only in the memory of a quiet response.

  Outlook

  Feeble minded people show disdain towards

  my condition.

  Any attempt of acquiring a small amount of remorse

  is useless.

  Fragility is mostly instilled.

  In other cases, it is born.

  For me, I’ve carried it along with my first breaths.

  My last should have the same air.

  Whatever I see is seen through a lens that blinds what I pray to see.

  Sympathy is hard for anyone.

  I’m looked upon with confusion and doubt.

  At the same time, I’m not aware of the onlooker.

  I feel sorry for them all.

  With my best effort,

  I try to prove to an unmasked audience

  I am more than what I am.

  Even though I can’t be what I should.

  Small empathy goes a long way,

  As well as avoiding something forbidden

  Such as the true nature of an inner being:

  Horrific and pure,

  Attached to a vessel,

  Bearing the strain of shame,

  Composed of unforeseen elements,

  Which had been stigmatized by an event

  Unwilling to recall.

  Obliged to let it survive.

  Have Nothing

  Take away the rivers,

  Take away the sea.

  Take away the Sun,

  And take away the land.

  Thinking of what to give

  to another poor soul.

  What can change the dreadful thoughts

  Which have taken their toll.

  Wave with emotion

  towards the sky.

  See what’s left and soon forget.

  Nothing was left behind.

  Walk with haste.

  Time passes by.

  Check for an opening.

  Stay away for good…

  This is as sign

  for being misunderstood.

  Quiet in the midst of…

  Tossed vaguely into contentment,

  Side by side,

  Surrounded with the lost.

  Woke up in a frantic

  As I dreamt of something better.

  Saved by the whispers of the hard-working,

  I punished myself for seeking more

  By pandering to the foolish

  constantly in slumber.

  Wine to the giver.

  Fear abides with separation,

  Manhandled and controlled.

  This order is a life sentence.

  Comply for fulfillment.

  Reigned over and patted down.

  Checks and balances.

  Steadily and subtle.

  Straightforward discomfort is too aggressive.

  Remain within the shadows.

  Shouting won’t bring attention.

  Therefore, hush.

  Stillness is a different kind of safety,

  Mounted as a subject for onlookers

  to speculate, discuss, and be entertained.

  An underestimated way to begin a process.

  Untitled

  Unsung by a choir,

  A story drifts along

  Written by a madman in search of help.

  If someone were to hear from him

  He might save himself.

  Washed over by a painter,

  A statement is ignored.

  Quoted from a child,

  Hoping to be known.

  If it were heard by anyone with concern

  Then maybe the child would know what went wrong.

  Erased by a writer,

  The truth is put aside.

  Overshadowed by deception,

  Crying out for a