Ever stop to wonder if maybe the boy who cried wolf was telling the truth all along?

He pulled on their sleeves, day after day, year after year,
incessant, eyes wide and innocent with fear
Please, oh god, the wolf is coming!
He crouches down, arms flung over his head
Insufficient protection for what he knows is to come
They barely spare him an eye roll
Get up! Everyone knows you're nothing but a liar.

The problem was not with the boy
The boy had the problem
And he is not the one to blame
Blame it on the people who didn't care enough to look beyond the surface

The wolf, the boy moans

It's chasing him in his head
Just because they can't see it doesn't mean it's not there
to him
He shakes in terror, whimpering
The wolf, he's here

And what of the boy's sister?
She too is being hunted by the wolf behind her eyes
But always she's been told
Don't be like your brother, don't tell tall tales
See this is why children should be seen and not heard

So she's learned to bite her tongue
instead of screaming when she sees the wolf's ****** teeth appear
She's learned how to close her eyes, but not sleep
because she know the wolf waits for her there

And when the wolf finally stops taunting her and comes for doomsday,
she will never give a cry for help

because she knows no one would listen to her anyway.

my mind is rapid,
too rapid
because you keep running around me in circles
over and over and over

your head is a very deep well
let me swim
let me drown

he who plants bad seeds
shall have a plot of despair
harvesting no good

Alone,
Alone with nobody,
I walk down the gilded path
Of the moon
Snuffing out every hopeful star
Like those so far away
They blink in and out of existence.

Sorrow bleeds my mind,
I lament in soliloquy
Like a forgotten friend.

The dark night of melancholia
Spilled like a confession,
A dream grieved
Under the languishes of existence.

My heart adorned with memory
And tears suspended from time,
Her scent faintly in the air.

Oh the sorrows
In the Grey hours of solitude,
They slither like snakes
In cold Autumnal gardens.

I turn out the lights,
My hands stirring the pen
As I write the aloneness and her
Virtues at the delicate lips of night:

May Poetry understand
The beauty of sorrow.......

You are the murmuring birds that grace my line of sight
Brown eyes that ease the night
The Spring lambs that warm my heart
Auburn silk tresses , blue forget- me -nots
You are the very instant the sun breaks the morning brume
The stained glass sky in my Autumn afternoon
My question , my seduction , my reason
My trail , my expression , my Summer season* ...