Reading, writing, laughing, playing,
these writers have no shame.
Stories, poems, raps, and scenes,
these artists know what it means
to have a soul,
to have a voice,
to express themselves like no one else.
Making friends
and bonding lives,
the depth of their actions
speak louder than their words.
The Dogs and the Devils,
hand in hand,
living through the actions
of pen and pad.
Creating the worlds,
they most desire,
the Dogs and the Devils
have the power.
Hate to me is the thought of not being able to forgive,
the knowing of not being able to forget.
Hate is being known for something you are not
and being unable to change yourself.
Hate is sorrow, anger, and loneliness,
the blood that drips from the lips of the innocent.
The salt from the tear of the beaten.
Hate to me is my previous life.
The life of a child who only wanted to end her own story.
The thoughts of a girl who wanted all around to end their’s.
Hate is the loathing of the ones she made foolish.
The minds and hearts she broke ruthlessly and oft.
Hate is what I was.
Hate is what I still am.
The hate I hide within myself is and shall break through
to the reality I know as life.
And the hate I hold within myself shall overpower the strongest of hope.
We are all born
From the same thought,
The need to reproduce.
We are all made the same.
The same structure,
The same mind,
The same, everything.
So why?
Why do we hate?
Hate each other so much.
Because of the way we speak,
The way we act?
We all see the same,
Feel the same,
Breathe the same.
So why?
Why do we have to kill each other?
For land?
We have enough.
For food?
All we have to do is think.
And we can solve every problem we create for ourselves.
I don’t understand.
Why do we divide ourselves into these categories?
We are all the same.
Human.
So why?
Why can’t we all be human?
Why can’t we truly see?
What we’ve become.
Maybe we can.
But it scares us so much,
We try to hide it.
Forget about it.
Maybe,
Just maybe,
If we don’t try to hide?
CAN we fix it?
Or is it too late?
Regret is like…
the last slice of pizza getting taken when you wanted it.
Being speechless is like…
the guy you like wanting all your attention, but not getting it.
Winter is like…
A big heat stroke needed of air.
Confusion is like…
not being worthy to a king.
Doug Manuel is like…
the breath of fresh air needed after a hard time.
Crying is like…
your favorite show being canceled, ice cream being melted on a hot day.
Change is like…
not knowing what color finger polish to wear.
I’m trying to solve a mystery,
A mystery of a puzzle.
I’m concentrating on it so hard,
I’m not even talking. It’s like I’m wearing a muzzle.
It’s so intriguing making all sides the same,
But you’ll never know if you’ll beat this complicated game.
This isn’t a game that you can beat in two minutes.
You have to have patience because at times it could seem endless.
Sometimes this game can challenge your character,
Your patience, tolerance, and how you manage your emotions.
Red, white, orange, green, and blue.
Have you figured out the game because of these clues?
It’s a complicated game that has no rules.
If you haven’t figured out yet,
It’s a Rubik’s Cube.