169. Question

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

168. Complaints Are For Those With Nothing to Complain About

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/

166. I Guess You Really Don’t Care

Did I hear you wrong or something?

I thought I heard you say you care?

And I would have given anything,

To hear it said again somewhere.

What has changed from last we talked?

You used to speak and share?

Now all you have done is walk,

Many times past me while I stare.

Why are you so distant now?

You used to touch my hair.

You hardly even touch me now;

Seem to forget I’m there.

You once told me you cared to know…

Everything ’bout me, made aware?

So why did you so quickly sow,

The seed of “I don’t care”?

K. Aldaya, 9/17/05

Picture: Photographer Unknown; https://lhueagleeye.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/halfwaybetweenthegutter-wordpress-com.jpg

165. A Purpose

Someone once asked me,

What I thought,

Our purpose was to be,

With life given us free?

What’s the conclusion to be sought?

What matters most to thee?

I replied that: “Living…,

To me is much more,

Then just love for living.

Its’ for always giving,

Conclusions built from loves’ out-pour…,

Steady and forgiving.”

K. Aldaya, 9/17/05

164. Be At Peace Little Ones

In my youth I never slept,

As one of idle mind.

For children of innocence,

So soon are left behind;

To gather and to bind.

A mess of immature chaos,

Was carried from my early start.

Oh, youth should not be poisoned so,

Twisted by a blackened heart,

And dreams scattered apart.

I know not what it’s like,

To be free of my memory,

Nightmares and they intermixed,

Compounded in every degree,

By the years taken from me.

My body was the enemy.

My soul a fallen comrade,

In wars of power and control.

The armor in which I was clad,

Was made of fear…and bad.

When turmoil is your first bed,

And innocence costs you dear,

You learn to sleep alone at night,

And be at peace in the drear.

(As your side’s pierced with a spear).

So be at peace ye little ones,

When youths’ caress has left,

To comfort not within the strife,

That’s left your soul bereft.

Look beyond the theft,

As just one piece of this shattered-life.

K. Aldaya, 9/17/05

Picture: Originally on http://vodkaandvogue.tumblr.com/; Photographer Unknown; http://favim.com/image/311870/