FairWriter

 Their bias chains my grief Not acceptable to grieve a dad and husband. A conservative far from me, suffering from gun shot to the neck As of now, I hold his limp hand as half the nation grieves and half a nation celebrates. Tall, brown hair, baby faced, Charlie, we lost you in the Internet-fabricated hate Demeaning your laugh, your vision, your ethic for the chance to idolize a man dressed as a cat. My heart doesn’t burn with hate That flame was extinguished when I realized the wood of justice would cause a forest fire, consuming the entire human race. Now you sit with those before, taken too soon for a noble cause. Eventually, my bravery will match yours, Charlie. For now, I’ll attempt to be innocuous despite the painful truth of your end.

 I just drank coffee, god. Just an energy drink, papa. Why am I manic? My bank account ran out. Why do I have a million dollars in my head? The sun is brighter than normal, and I hear the birds. I flew over the rainbow, so why should I swallow a white pill. I blacked out, doctor. What caused it? Skill? Your brain is limited. It's suffocating your soul. You're manic. You will heal.

 Church is loud and hidden. Full of praise, unprecedented resilience. She bites an apple, then walks into an eternal city. She rests on Sabbath, then battles ignorance. Strong and faulted, given grace and Jerusalem walls. She hides her beauty while Jesus peers significant.

 I’m a poet who can’t read, my brain is short wired Quick to chance the distractions. Boggle the memory. Get sedated by the medications. I can’t read like those polished professionals who grew up with an educated father and maternal, well-versed mother. I’m not interested in scanning lines of dead texted when I now have the freedom to watch a screen. I’m apologize. Were you talking to me?

Beautiful, as she meandered into the profile picture of her dreams. Hair meticulously styled, angle right, and artificial light to highlight that which is dark. I thought, certainly she was someone to befriend, yet she wanted nothing to do with me. She loved to sin. I found a woman with a double chin, bags under her eyes, walking around the block, taking it all in. I thought her time had come and gone, nothing more to my life could she add. Wishing she’d be a mere acquaintance, I left after our small conversation, not recognizing she was the definition of a friend.

  To close or not to close. That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of Mexican influx. Or to take arms against a wall of troubles And by opposing break them. To die—to sleep. No more; and by a sleep to say we end The politics and the thousand subjective opinions That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep, in an asylum—ay, there's the rub: For in that of inflation of what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal conundrum, Must give us pause—there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life. To close or not to close the American border.

 I both reach and retreat. I want you and want nothing to do with you. It is predictable that I both hate and love you. I want you near and must retreat. Like a civil war and trip to Disney Land. You are my contradiction Both push and pull. America, I pledge allegiance and protest you for being immoral.

 The clouds are unstable So too are the waves But my faith is stable, solid. Rally and debate is unstable. Fire and Water too. But, God hold us safe.

 Why do they all leave, what is wrong with me… the medications have changed me to the point I don’t recognize me. Why did I lose it all, Perhaps to a bigger call To love others more than they love me.

 Dear Reality, I must be honest. You’ve been hard on me. You’ve tossed me back and forth. Made me feel helpless. Everyone said I have to accept you, but you’re toxic sometimes. I know we’ve been friends for a long time. I’m willing to work with you, but you need to compromise as well. You need to stop taking up my entire day. You need to be understanding when I have to speak with Imagination and Dream. Don’t crowd around me. Don’t pull me away from them. They are my friends too. I’m sorry, Reality. I know how difficult this is for you. I know you want my attention 24/7. You just can’t have it. Your Friend, Tamara