508. Condemned

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I sobbed again, into the wee hours;

Silently, as I lie in my bed.

There’s no reason to explain why.

No one cares what goes on in my head.

There’s no use crying. There’s no use talking.

I know I’ll suffer until I die.

Everything that I do or don’t,

Is considered my fault or a lie.

I’ll always be the criminal and scum,

While all those who hurt me move along.

They get to live. Be seen as good;

And I scrape by….Always in the wrong.

Tell me what’d I do to deserve this life?

To warrant such hatred and such pain?

I longed to be a good person,

But a bloodied soul just leaves a stain.

No matter where I go, it follows me,

Leaving paths of contempt to my door.

Go ahead and burn my house down.

It has happened countless times before.

I sobbed again, into the wee hours;

Ostracized and punished ’til the end.

Why do the monsters get to live,

While I’m forced into darkness,…condemned?

K. Aldaya, 1/15/20

Picture: By: Mxsh on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/T9THJMIIMPM

499. Forsaken

Why do they let the children cry?

They laugh and ignore,

Then say goodbye…

As if they are not there.

Why do they leave the children be?

They do not perceive,

Though they may see;

And harshly turn away.

Why do they let the children cry?

And leave them inside,

To wonder why,

The whole world left them there…

To die.

K. Aldaya, 12/13/19

Picture: Art by Banksy and Photographed by Karim Manjra on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/6iM5GOht664

490. The Zoo

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Monkey swing across the bars.

Monkey see. Monkey do.

You are but one tiny speck,

Inside a cosmic zoo.

Play the part and socialize.

Be the best you can be;

As long as you don’t mope ’bout,

Or wish that you were free.

Entertain. Live and fit-in.

Walk in rounds ’til you’re sick.

Don’t wonder ’bout breaking out.

Fighting instinct’s tragic!

Monkey swing across the bars.

Monkey blind. Monkey sad.

If you’re mere biology,

Existing should make you glad.

Monkey swing…

…Monkey fall.

K. Aldaya, 9/11/19

Picture: By: Chris Yang on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/4CZ4lZGX53g

476. Places to Go

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I long to escape,

Yet I’ve nowhere to go.

My heart lies on the ground,

Covered over with snow.

I long to fly up…

Upon the winds, and free,

Instead at the window,

I dream of being me.

I long to return,

To the sun and the earth,

Where I feel warm and light,

And every breath has worth.

I long to escape,

Though I’ve nowhere to go;

Yet when winter is gone,

Do not find me and sow.

Please spread my dust out,

I have places to go.

K. Aldaya, 5/21/19

Picture: By: Ross Sneddon on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/-_GA1e-813o

469. Life is a Sick Joke

With good intentions we build,

Lives from dust and ash;

And cling to those walls we build,

As it all goes up in smoke.

For winds change in a flash…

And life is a sick joke.

Build walls high, and build them strong.

Shelter, live, and love with hope.

The storms of time follow along,

Waiting to blow it up in smoke.

There is no reason to curse or hope.

Life’s merely a sick joke.

We erect upon the graves of the lost,

With ashes of hope and remorse.

The ancients’ tears: aren’t they too high a cost,

For our hands to so heedlessly provoke?

As no matter what chart we may course.

Life’s ever a sick joke.

With good intentions we build,

Our lives from bones and breath;

And fight hard, as if the strong-willed,

Won’t burn in flames they stoke.

There is no rhyme to life or death.

It’s all just a sick joke.

K. Aldaya, 2/26/19