It whispers the ugliest words, echoes of those who hurt the tenderness in us.
When the Photons Call
The photons call out in desperation, for the body to pay attention.
Running my fingers over the scars, I close my eyes.
Nighttime Haunts the Muscles
Don’t store the detritus in your body. It will mire down your feet.
I am a poetess a prowess, a lioness ripping through emotions a shark in an ocean of sadness and incapable expression. I am your words, unspoken and unheard, representative of pain revealing what you restrain, heart broken and torn, cries of the unborn. I am a servant echoes of the quiet haunt moving ghosts in … Continue reading I Am
A Different Kind Of Damaged
I can only sit and observe, The winding streets of your hurt.
Behind the Stars
You are hiding behind a star.
She mimicked normal, Smiling, wine glass Lifted pinkie; copied class, And she remembered back, Carefree before this jump. Into ash and stone Leaping downwards, This place would never Feel like home. Oh, did not she Understand her strength, When the wind Lifts her wings? To get through the storms She would forget Her own dimension … Continue reading Soul Genocide
For the Motherless Child
But who celebrates theMotherless child?Who remembers theGrieving siblingWhose life was missingLove and comfortOr the childrenRiddled with the lossOf she who bore them? Who loves theWorn down soulsUnable to openComputer topsFor fear of seeingEveryone else's joyAs theySit alone. We are conditioned withHolidays toGet the heart wishing,Fake gatherings whereChildren smile for momQuiet about the harmNot showing the … Continue reading For the Motherless Child
You can give aMillion pieces of your heart.You can listen and support,Share openly; be told"Discussion encouraged",But nothing insures loyalty. Today, I learned thatFor the final time. Rarely do people's actionsMatch their words.There will be no moreNewness walking in this door.My wariness grows stronger. I will ever remain the watcher,
Collateral Damage Station
I'm on the outsidebright colorpeacock spreadingI own my street,a path forced discreetby tainted company I'm on the insidewhere children weepand we speakthis language ofnaivety, conversations brief know what it's liketo be the weird oneso, pretty stays silent She'll only be assumed Life consumes herleather bound pagesto be passed onto sonsthere are chosen onesholding secrets governmental … Continue reading Collateral Damage Station
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