the weight of silence.

she would much rather bear the
burden of prosecution than
the weight of silence



what joy onced overwhelmed is now
equally difficult to keep hold of

where tears once ran, a scowl now
rests, annoyed at a day's work forfeited
financial strains and disciplinary actions and
to be frank, a waste of
perfectly good time

heartbroken, still

living very against the grain, but not for
the sake of rebellion

rather, in opposion of
complacency and apathy and the
deadness inevitable via the
road conventionally travelled

for the unheard and
unseen and
love and



so critical of our
flawed, imperfect neighbor until
we need whatever
ability they possess that we
do not

i am a waste of space,
with a spark of purpose

we can never forgive, never
set aside our pride, never
cease to hate until we
can benefit from these
god-forsaken sinners

seems as though people are treated this way far too often.