Twisted Game
Sometimes I feel this must be one sick game.
To see how many times the heart can break, before it dies in shame.
Make us feel at one moment, loved and cared about,
Then lose everything and all purpose doubt.
Compounded Insults
You don’t know….though I wish you did,
The insults pulled-out from where they hid.
Piled up tall in the shadow of years,
In note of consents for all of the fears.
K. Aldaya, ’05
Heroes are to me a source of courage.
They embody strengths to live on the verge,
Of heartache, and troubles, but look always,
Up to the sky….and the hope of new-rays.
For they see not the end but the start of each new day.
They lead us to feel thus, in every way.
Not with their actions, though they are there,
But with their mere presence in this life that we share.
K. Aldaya, ’05
Picture: Photographer Unknown; http://www.pehub.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/sunrise-nov-1-300×200.jpg
My hand…look…fast is waning,
No more refrain from word-straining.
For the end swiftly approaches.
Expressionisms flow, in draining,
For sorrow encroaches.
Oh, how steady on its’ course,
We lose and then regain our source.
But hence I fear it will ne’er return,
Dripping-composure off-course,
May have no yearning to return.
K. Aldaya, 9/27/05
Picture: “A Lady Writing” (Close-up) by Johannes Vermeer (1665-66); http://www.essentialvermeer.com/catalogue/lady_writing.html#.VULKsJO8jGs
Question: “Why me?”
I know you’ll say, “Why not?”,
But honestly, “Why me?”
Why an overcrowded lot?
When over there’s an empty one,
Why consistently my lot?
Don’t answer again, “Why not?”
Statistically improbable,
Is the chance to pick one place,
‘Til it is over-full,
And completely out of space.
When right there’s an empty one,
Almost yearning for used-space.
Why mount me up with such disgrace?
Question: “Why me?”
I know… I deserve it.
But why pleading daily,
For mercy’s earned-pit,
To swallow built-up griefs,
So high no more can fit?
Then again I’m unfit…,
To judge “Why me’s” the universe does permit.
K. Aldaya, 9/25/05
Picture: “But Why??” by SpellboundMisfits on Deviant Art; http://www.deviantart.com/art/But-Why-105393250
Don’t complain to me ’bout your life.
You have friends and family true.
Don’t tell me you are in such strife,
When so many care for you.
I have no one but myself.
My family and friends a-few.
Each only seem to think of their self.
A life so completely not like you!
I have no one. None at all,
To give strength to grasp the wall,
So I won’t perish in this fall….
Down a hole you wouldn’t fit through.
K. Aldaya, 9/23/05
Picture: “Falling Down The Rabbit Hole” by Bradi Wells on flickr; https://www.flickr.com/photos/bradi/2797166439/
My Soul is a Lock Without a Key 
