I am nothing more than a tool. I cannot move under my own power or will. Weather I want to or not. I need to be used or tossed out once a newer better model comes along. I am a clunky piece of hardware that takes up space, I am old with missing parts. Shoved somewhere out of sight, clean the house throw me out. No regreting the toss or wanting it back I am no longer a wanted item.

As the darkness closes in I become entranced by the shadowy figures moving about me. Watching and waiting.. Wanting to drift away with them, I fall victim to my own painfull sleep. Dreams distress me and life upsets me. Must I go on? Who knows. I await the day death visits me one final time.

It would seem you stop time when I stare into yours. The world moves slowly and your all I notice. The way you smile makes my heart skip beats, the way you laugh melts me, the way you look back into my eyes fills me with compassion and I am overjoyed at the fact we are in love.

Torn- short poem

I am torn, torn apart. Every little piece burnt to a crisp by your napalm. Filled with rage, piled with fear. My life, a joke in yours.

-Jr