History to bring a class together.
A past to pull them apart...

If I were a great poet
And had been given a great gift...

When I was
Down, down, down...

A string of words?
Yes, and what I see...

This is me,
with my love and fear of the quiet...

This isn't about
Am I Capable...

Who was there, and why is it okay?
But not for me...

It's dark out and my alarm clock is beeping.
I scramble to the foot of my bed to silence it...

It's three AM.
He's awake, sitting up in bed...

In the heat, my whole self is ice cream, melting.
The mirror in my mind screams atrocities...

Just a baby,
bravely shaking...

On this graveyard hill,
the fireworks reserved...