450. Villains

In the story of my life,

You are the villains;

The plotters. The schemers. The bringers of strife.

You praise your heroism,

In dealing with me,

While pointing out flaws and enacting schisms.

You would only have loved me,

If I’d have earned it;

For you praise the motto: “Nothing is for free”.

You hold out expectant hands,

Awaiting some gold.

Oh, how is it not one of you understands?

I shouldn’t need earn the right,

To be loved like you.

Existing does not need a permit you write.

I’m sure you’d act shocked to find,

You’re drowning in sins.

Yet, of course you will all pay no nevermind.

After all, you are the villains.

K. Aldaya, 7/13/18

Picture: https://www.pexels.com/photo/attractive-beautiful-beauty-black-and-white-594421/

397. Go to the Water

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

Tears flowing forth.

Time runs it’s course,

In the flowing forth of words from mouths.

Nothing but a freak.

A child: lost and meek,

Cursed to bear the cost of others’ sorrows.

Fates can not be changed.

Experiences rearranged.

Once set into motion it continues.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

“Kill yourself today.

You’re in everybody’s way.

Why can’t you see your fate is sealed.

No one wants you here.

Curse’s won’t disappear.

Why must you fight the flowing of the water.”

The window is ajar,

And beyond is just a bar.

One step and then it will all be over.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

Nobody will stop you.

You know what you must do.

Look down into the darkness of the water.

Their eyes are looking up.

Go on, they’ve had enough.

It will only hurt a little longer.

Legs break in the fall.

Nobody cares at all.

They watch you with the coldness of the water.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

Crawl to the boat’s tip.

Take a little slip.

Fall down face first into shivering water.

Can not swim away.

Lungs fill up straight away.

Choke upon the apathy of strangers.

Bodies soon grow cold,

As souls release their hold,

And all that’s left’s another child forgotten.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

No one speaks the name.

Life goes on just the same,

As bodies drift away on the water.

Cruelty is a plague.

Apathy digs a grave,

Which buries all the outcast little children.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water…

…Go. Go. Go to the water…

…….Go. Go. Go to the water.

K. Aldaya, 5/21/17

Picture: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22892496-dust-to-dust

360. Who Will Weep for the Dead?

Who will mourn for the lost,

And who will weep for the dead,

When the tides of sinful lust,

Awash each virgin-bed?

Blood is spilt upon the earth.

Oh, the horrors of man’s greed!

Which never takes responsibility,

For it’s every bitter deed.

Scream in terror children!

The dead shall not be grieved!

Only the victims bare the pain,

Of the sins they have received.

Their cries echo in vain,

As the dead will not be heard.

It only drives them more insane,

With every closeted-word.

And who will mourn for the lost?

Who will weep for the dead?

For rather then listening to the truth,

Men grieve for their ears instead.

K. Aldaya, 7/7/16

Picture: http://www.survivingmold.com/news/2014/12/cirs-the-genetics/; http://www.survivingmold.com/news/wp-content/uploads/2034/11/Screaming2.jpg

330. Lolita

I like cake, and I like candy.

Blades for cutting wrists are handy.

I like treats, and I like frosting.

No one knows what childhood’s costing.

I like balloons, and I like games.

Obligatory silence maims.

I like dolls, and I like tea-time;

And touching children is a crime.

I like toys, and I like cupcakes.

This world is full of frauds and fakes.

I like pink, and I like parties;

And rapists rape children with ease.

I like frills, and I like laces.

Shut the door and close the cases.

I like carousels. I like bows…

Scarred-wrists dressed in lolita clothes.

I like teddies and lullabies…

For they cover the shame-filled cries,

Of innocence’s homicide.

K. Aldaya, 1/20/16

Picture: By milk-rose on Tumblr; http://milk-rose.tumblr.com/post/21632099649

282. The Tree

Growing. Advancing its’ roots.

The tree always blossoms with time,

And in time it must feed its’ roots;

With sunshine.

Inside the flesh it has grown.

Now out of flesh it must rise,

And break through the skin and bone;

To survive.

Boring its’ way through the cheek.

Blood oozes and creeps down its’ bark.

Will the world be ready for this freak;

And fathom?

Gasps and screams sing-out as it grows.

“Oh, how horrid the truth! How bizarre!”

“This black-tree only spreads and sows;

Its’ evil!”

“Cut it down! Cut it down! The devil needs no light!”

“Let it live in the darkness it exposes!”

Too obscene to look at, and offensive a blight;

To accept.

Growing. It always keeps growing alone.

Cut back and cut down,….it remains.

For evil once lived finds a life of its’ own;

And spreads.

Could the light have allowed the tree,

To blossom into something of worth?

Is there beauty in the horror in thee;

In season?

The tree through each season lives on,

And under the skin it still thrives.

‘Til one day all its’ roots will be gone;

In soul-death.

For self-destruction’s humanities’ legacy,

To the children who refuse to accept,

They should hide the sins of the world and agree:..

“There’s no tree”.

K. Aldaya, 12/4/14

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://dark.pozadia.org/wallpaper/Evil-Tree-Lord-Awakening/