Jumper
Tonight
there are 9 names running down the list of kids we will memorialize
the template is familiar
we light a candle in our mourning
its something I’ve seen before
im used to this kind of sadness
the names are common
like holly, Billy, tyler and justin
these are people I could have known
these are people I could have been
people I have been
and I know I should be crying
thats familiar too
but all i can think of are the train tracks
Running along university
and the 5 crumbling bodies falling under
the ones with names I’ve forgotten
and all the other children
who were gone without notice
without us calling it tragedy
cuz we gave those words to Michael and heath
but tragedy
is not a drugged out celebrity
tragedy, is a girl having to throw her body into a bullet to be remembered
tragedy is our children dying
The ones running from something too big and fast to ever be free of
And I know,
I should be crying
But all i can think of is how long we've been running from these tracks
how long we been swallowed under
Taken asunder
the silence is gripping our vocal chords like the plague
so this,
This is a poem for the forgotten solders
For the children who didn’t learn enough reasons to live
This is a poem for the forged
The bodies beaten into sidewalk calk
The vigil callers
The ones who bring the storms
The tears come quick when its close
When its raining in California
During fall
It is easy to cry
But not so easy to feel
That’s why its taken me weeks to even write
For the names we trace in face book status history
To the boys I’ve never met
Here are my apologies
for the black and blue bruises
for the FUCK you FAGGOTS
i am soo sorry
To the girls
Quivering in closet liners
Hiding beneath straight jackets
Straight edge smiles
Switchblade wrists
The ones dressing into the genders they were told they had to fit
Trying to fill the hearts of men who will never fill their own
We are the same kind of forgotten
Bodies
Like our secrets left in the back of our dark closets
The same kind of hatred
Colored red
And black
Call it scarlet
Call it a letter on my chest
We are the young
Dying
Quick to jump
Run
Slash
Gun
Hanging on
Only by our necks
Waiting for someone to catch us
Or catch on
Waiting to be found where we’ve been hidden
With letters we never should have written
Waiting for a salvation
That’s too slow to come
Falling off our own burnt bridges
This is a scripture for the broken
For the ones sill breaking
For the ones barely surviving
I’ve erected a wall in your honor
Around my heart
With your names tattooed to the inside
Where all the severed memories are
Its made or plaster
But it looks like marble
Call my fear beautiful
Then break me easy with your sledge hammer
i’ve traced a place for you on the inside of my wrist
where I’ve held all my lessons on living
This is an epitaph for the tired and lonely
The ones who slipped under without noticing
Or the ones who just
stopped
running
The ones swallowed by iron
And rope
And left there likes old westerns
Like a damsel
Distressed
Wearing scars like accessories
Looking for answers in tissue lining
This is a eulogy for the ones who fell
And the ones who were pushed
For the kids who’s hands got tired of holding so they hung form other extremities
Or flung themselves into oblivion
for the kids who were tired of waiting
and the tomorrows that don’t seem to ever arrive
for the beauty in the broken
and the ugly in everyone standing upright
like nothings even happened
For the kids who are still trying to live through it all
This is a talisman
For the ones who are still here
The ones trying to remember a reason to live
Trying to forget the names and statistics
Trying not to let the falling stars turn everything to darkness
But its dark
We know
Its hard
And cold
And the moon is not shining nearly as bright as we need it to
And the suns been lying to us
Cuz we’ve got only thunder in these chests left
This is a song for the storm
And the train
And the bullets
And the blades
And the bridges
And all the things that were or will be broken
This is for the hearts that are still crumbling
For the foundations that still don’t hold us
For the pillars that are still falling
For the children that are still running
For the parents who still wont notice
For the teachers who still cant change
For the country that still wont speak
For the president who’s forgotten the taste of bigotry
honestly
For the people who been convinced otherwise
For the ones who are ashamed
And sewn quiet
For the last screams left
The bottom of the tracks
the back of the bus
The inside of a barrel
The edge of a blade
The distance in the fall
The darkness of a closet
For the difference in hanging on
And falling over
Tomorrow the news will be quiet
So will the president
So will the teachers
And the governor
And maybe even your parents
But there’s a sea of crying hearts
Weeping in your distance
Wondering if they’re next
Wondering how to stop the pattern
Someone, somewhere is screaming into darkness
Beautiful child,
this is a melody for your lonesome soul
because I know, the right play list can pull you back from the edge
the right kind of song can bring you back to believing
I promise that You will never be alone
As long as someone is still running
And someone is still falling
we will be The same kind of beautiful
With ugly secrets hiding in our pockets
letters that never should have been written
in regret of our silence
tonight
all the good poets are writing
writing
writing
writing
but a pens scratch is barely audible
and face book and twitter are still stuttering
so Tomorrow maybe some of us will speak into the darkness
Call out your names
Tattoo them to our vocal chords
And remind ourselves
That we are all
The same kind of lost
Children crying out
Praying not
to
be
forgotten
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