Me, Myself, and I

June 28, 2013. © Talon Truitt Cherry, All rights reserved

Me?
I write for the good things over looked in life,
the way a flame dances off of candle light,
how bright days are brightest just before the night,
and long days are longer when the companies right.
I write for heirlooms, grandmothers, and magical fairies,
mushrooms in the forest, picnic’s, and luminaries,
endless sunsets sinking over tides that vary.
I write because I love it, my name is Talon Cherry.
Myself?
I write of dark times, with no hope in sight,
Black souls rising over ghostly nights,
how blood shed paints red a moon at twilight,
and all things dead give your kids a fright.
I write for cold killing chilling shots at pointblank,
guns talking louder than the lives they take,
endless lines of dead walking, and faces blank.
I write because I hate you, my name is Charley Banks
and I?
I write for the ones who never make a sound,
the ones that could have flown, but instead they drowned,
how their stories scream read me from all around,
and censorship makes sure the words aren’t found.
I write for kids never grown, with no love and no home,
drilling lessons through your skull, and shaking every bone,
how soldiers fallow orders, blindly casting first stones.
I write because you don’t, my name is Mr. Jones.