Their skin is translucent
Veins crawl across their skin like vines
Their builds slim but rippling with muscles
They approach

Their eyes glow red
Color of blood from a beating heart
Pumping pumping pumping
They glow brighter as they spot their prey

Greasy black wings on their backs
Reflections of screaming faces seem to show
Faces of agony and fear
Right before they feed

Angels sent to earth because heaven didn't want them their
The devil takes them in gives them power
Because he was god's favorite and he was an angel once too

Their sent to punish those
Who escaped death and punishment
To get those who deserve it most
People like you

Hey, what’s the story and what’s the crack?
I am white and you are black.
God made me and God made you,
Respect is what we got to do.
We cut our fingers, we bleed the same,
Different colors but different names.
We have things in common,
We like fun and games,
We run, we jump, we hop and skip,
And let no bad words pass our lips.
Because respect is what we got to do,
Respect from me and respect from you.

as we told each other the greatest things we could think to share
we could all tell
the greatest things we held within ourselves,
strength
attitude
illness
recovery
friends
mom
loss
li­fe
grandma
love-
we know, now, what word the center of our being holds-
we had thought of each other as creatures that spun with the world
around the point that is our own being
everyone else a nameless, faceless being that turns and leaves in orbit
with no center of gravity, no word inscribed on their hearts
that kept them grounded to this earth
but we were wrong.
the world spun,
and we were all still there together.

i retain the strength of character that of the ocean’s floor

unwavering in nature, i do not break; i do not change, i merely drift and shape and form along with the currents as they bear their weight upon me.

but my weakest shortcoming is that i reside in permanent darkness- unknown, unheard and unseen where it is infinitely cold and quiet, alone

i simply wish, even if merely for one day in my life, to feel like the sun: warm, bright and seen by all; needed, known and felt.

These are my people
This is my family
We sit around write words on paper
Speak fluent emotion
We automatically know one another
Despite just meeting each other
Paper binds us mentally
Vocally our words flow together
Like two rivers meeting at a bend
We are strange in the eyes of outsiders
But genius to each other
Our words moving one another
Shifting our views
Our voices chasing actions
We are a group of wonderful individuals
We are poets
And these are my people
This is my family

I desire a love so deep that
even cupid becomes jealous!