What Now

So many pasts and presents and future falling down to past now to future chanting nothing middle pages in a book on justice crying out for an end to murder to torture to now pages falling this is motion this is not a poem looking and looking and

I Miss You

It is always the one left. Who

In the tree she flew up there. Past

But everything looked almost the same. Place

Why did that happen she asked herself. Plus

Some things lined up neat matching. Wonder

Is this depression or desperation. Figure 

His beauty never wavered exaggerated. More

The night doesn't end things supposed. Pause