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Stare at the evidence,
that weapon you used to **** her.
The blood that stains the carpet,
the frantic smears of tears and fear.

Does it shame you,
knowing what you've done?
Are you guilty,
of what you've become.

Head lowered, eyes cast to the floor,
walking through all of these doors.
You can't look me in the eye,
or tell me why.

But you took her life,
with a dull jagged edge knife.
Buried in her flesh over again,
as she wailed for it to end.

You slung her up and tossed her down,
sealed the deal as you watched her drown.
Dusted off your hands and turned away,
did you think about the life you decided to take?
There was once a boy who almost drowned
inside his own self pity and doubt.
But if you could ever get him to smile,
he would sit in his car and whistle a while.
He whistled Coldplay, he whistled Muse,
he whistled notes only birds could use.
He whistled the sweetest, saddest songs,
that made you wish you could sing along.
There was a time that came one day
when I sent that whistling boy away.
He almost drowned, but then he was saved
by the only girl that made him cave.
So when he came back, there I met him,
there, in his car, with the lights all dim.
And there he played his Muse and Coldplay
And there he whistled until the end of his days.
It reminded me of how life should be,
a sweet and complicated melody.
He taught me to whistle, the best gift of all
a gift I can always quickly recall.
I realized then that we'd always be friends,
until he whistled no more at the end.
But for now, we'll sit and whistle a while,
I'll do my best to get him to smile.
I look forward to when I see him soon,
so he can whistle to me life's beautiful tune.
Roar!
The sanctuary roars,
Some of its many beasts seem angry,
They all feel hungry.

Roar!!
The roar is sadder,
Some of the advanced beasts feel sad,
They all miss hunting.

Roar!
The roar is full of sorrow,
Some of its beasts can't contain the sorrow,
They all miss their families.
My HP Poem #504
©Atul Kaushal
Have a Merry Christmas my Christian friends.
lord i come
to thee again
because thy soul
have thristy wings
to guide me with
heaven's light but
fill thy heart with sight
hands make weapons
hands fight wars but
hands can do more
hands build plows
hands till the earth
hands build bridges
hands build shores but
hands can do more
hands seek forgiveness
hands make peace not war
hands find
a quiet place to pray
yes still i am sure
truth is
the mirror's
reflection of
you everyday
the way the
willow brook soul
bend and sway
in the meadow
thank you
thank you
thank you
for being a
part of my
life.
(c) Brooke Otto 2013

bad and good, little and small.
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