465. The Proof’s Missing It’s Pudding

What if in my honesty,

I am not believed?

If someone were to question my reality?

Can truth ever be received,

Without proof and the third-degree?

What if I misword my speech,

And what’s heard’s not meant?

Should I remain silent or cry, plead, and beseech…

The Gods, who will stay absent,

As my honor flies out of reach?

What if in my honesty,

I am not believed?

Am I the fool for truly speaking openly,

Of the plight of the bereaved.

With no corpse to see, and nod: acknowledgingly;

For in acceptance of the truth…

Men want proof…..They all want proof.

K. Aldaya, 1/18/19

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464. Never-known

“No one wants me”, was said,

To no one in particular.

Ah, hiding is a fool’s stead,

When no one’s even looking.

Hide-and-seek and disappear,

Forgotten and alone.

There was once someone here,

Whom no one’s ever known.

“No one wants me”, was said,

Somewhere…someplace.

There’s something missing in the head,

That time can not replace.

Hide-and-seek and disappear,

Forgotten and alone.

There was once someone here,

Whom no one’s ever known.

K. Aldaya, 1/8/19

Picture: Image from Among the Sleep; https://store.steampowered.com/app/250620/Among_the_Sleep__Enhanced_Edition/

463. Smoke and Mirrors

“It’s all smoke and mirrors”, the illusionist said.

“What lives in the heart also lives in the head”.

“There is no magic to make you stay,

In one place, or just one way.

You are everything you love and hate.

You are the thoughts you contemplate.

You are young and you are old.

You are meek and you are bold.”

“It’s all smoke and mirrors”, the illusionist said.

“What’s true for the heart, is true for the head;

For just ’cause you are living,

Does not mean you aren’t dead.”

K. Aldaya, 12/30/18

462. The Sinner

Pulled apart. I come undone.

From the start I’m forced to run.

Run from one point to another.

I am me and then the other.

Words confound. I spin in place.

I make no sound. My words: they race,…

Inside myself where they collide,

And try to escape to the outside.

Drained and weak. I grip my heart.

I can’t speak. I’m torn apart.

My heart beats, and beats, and beats,

While inside, history repeats.

Pulled apart. I come undone.

Will this fight ever be won?

For as in war, there are no winners.

There are no saints, only sinners.

K. Aldaya, 12/28/18

Picture: https://rightsinfo.org/excluded-schoolchildren-at-serious-risk-of-knife-crime-and-youth-violence/