You've sworn
to live for poetry
but it is
poetry that
kills you

-Year fifteen.

Normal girl, tall and slender. Bright eyes and developing body.
But her hands, oh... Her hands were sculpted by something else. Beautiful bones,
Long, pink nails and the skin on her palm smoother than silk.
The veins show a dull peppermint on her snowy skin.
Her thin wrist and delicate movements.

She cracks her knuckles so her sharp joints will show more.

-Year twenty three.

The life she lived previous was pressured by the pollution in the air. ****,
Drugs, and alcohol. She slouches and shivers on a warm summer day,
Huddled in a corner of her house.

Her hands show no more snow. The veins seem shriveled.
Her joints were swollen and unmovable.
Her palms are coarse from rubbing them together and her nails...
Oh, her nails were ****** and torn off. She clawed too much at her neck
As she was held down and suffocated.

-Year twenty four.

*"I am sorry." The note read.

It was a deformed hand. Bite marks on her fingertips, shriveled skin with blotches and sores.
The veins drawn over in pink scars from jagged blades and old attempts.
It was a miracle she could write at all.

She now lays in an open casket. Eyes stare at her contrasted beauty.
Her childhood friend had always loved her hands. He reconstructed them.
A shriveled old body, only twenty four years old, but seemingly ancient.

But her hands, oh... Her hands were sculpted by someone who truly loved her.
Beautiful bones,
Long and pink plastic nails. The skin on her palm made of silk.
The veins are drawn with a dull peppermint pastel on her falsely snowy skin.

He cracked her fingers so her prosthetic joints will move less.

Dark disasters and pointless pain
Illusions bitten for no gain
Take a risk, take a fall
Follow the ones who do it all

Herds like sheep, follow true
Bask in these secrets simply subdue
Bury it deeper in the ground, not who you are
Not who you’ll be; you are now from afar

Hands grab the mind; call them stress
Those illusive peers they start to press
Molded like clay and distorted in guilt
A castle of lies that was built

Walked a road through thorns
Near the end, quicken your pace, your feet warn
Don’t trip up now, you’ve come too far
And those memories? They weren’t all so hard

Light shines brightest in the dark
And if it weren’t for fear there’d be no spark
You’ll keep going, stronger than the past
Time moves fast so make it last.

There was a little girl whom found love to young. On the playground she’d sing a child’s innocent song in a beautiful hum. Boys would hear her song and watch her, entranced. A rebel of a boy came up and asked her to dance. “I heard you singing from the swings. Your eyes are beautiful. Will you take my hand?” Curious and delighted, the girl couldn’t have known what he had planned. He twirled her and kissed her five year old lips. He put his hands around her young and innocent hips. “I have something to show you.” The twelve year old rebel whispered in her ear. “What is it?” out of curiosity not fear.  He took her hand and led her in to the room in the rear of the building. He took off his pants while she looked at the ceiling. So much more happening in between. Those days have passed and that young girl is now a woman. Her heart is confused and her mind in ruins. The love she knew when she was young, the love where he would kiss her underwater and buy her cheese fries, the love that she saw glimmering in his eyes, she never saw in everyone else’s. It confused her. It hurt her. But no one knew of her love. Her pain she suffered alone. Still a child at heart the woman loves to indulge in encounters that temporarily fill the hole of her one and still, only, love. She also gets drunk or high, anything to make her feel numb. She smokes a cigarette and has and epiphany. “I’m going to get my life together, stop sleeping around, and find a love that’s true.” She got up every day. Went to work and school. She leaves her heart open to opportunity and the almighty, God.  She’ll one day become a mother. She’ll have a love that will accept all her sins and kiss all of her scars. He'll hold her close. Ask her to dance. It will be a love she understands. A love she won’t think she deserves. She’ll feel too tainted, but he’ll soothe her with words. Mend the hole. End the hurt.

"With tears in my eyes and love consuming my soul,
I fought for you.
In the war we met each other
To how we became one,
I fought for you.
In the days of mixed colors, a sweet warm breeze; it was picture perfect,
I fought for you.
In the twisted night, trapped willfully;  screaming silently to escape,
I fought for you.
I watched you as you held me in the soft secrets whispered we promised each other,
I fought for you.
In the dim light of morning we were lost in hopes and dreams of what could be,
I fought for you.
In the moments I thought the dim would magically turn to bright,
I fought for you.
In the moment of what could have been your last breath, I held mine and,
I fought of you.
When it was said and done, when the light crept up, I was blind; in a wild twist of only skin and bare bones, naked, shaking my head to hold your hand, blaming the boy...
I fought for us.
In parting ways, a river always flowing together we have reached the bend together parts of us will always be shared; parts of me, I would never asked to be returned.
In the dim of morning, in the dark of night, in the shadow of two.
I fight for me. "

I
   fell
       into
           falling
                and
                      I
                         can't
                               stop
                                    descending...

Falling is a momentum;
the faster you go the more you gain.
Once it starts,
it will continue to accumulate.
And you can never accrue too much,
too much failure.
To fail to succeed,
makes success a failure.
Therefore you fell into falling,
once again.

Who am I Lord
That you are mindful of me
A tiny drop of rain
In a wide expansive sea
What could I ever give
That you could ever need
Who am I Lord
That you are mindful of me

Who am I Lord
That you should bless this wretched man
In all the scope of time
I'm but one single grain of sand
After all I've put you through
You still take me as I am
Who am I Lord
That you should bless this wretched man

Who am I lord
That I would ever deserve
All the mercy poured on me
In the power of your word
Why did you choose these ears
To be the ones to have heard
Who am I Lord
That I would ever deserve

Who Am I Lord
That you could want this heart of mine
It's so rough around the edges
It's been hurt so many times
I know that if I give it to you
It will be forever thine
Who am I Lord
That you could want this heart of mine

It is only by the blood of Christ
That I know exactly who I am
And only by that precious blood
Do I now have the power to stand
The power in your blood poured out
To justify this sinful man
It is only by the blood of Christ
That I know exactly who I am

Expression of emotion should never be oppressed
Trust me i know how to yell, you taught me very well,
But this is merely speaking
Hear me when I say I want to cry until we’re floating in the Dead Sea
And my heart no longer curses me with the density to sink
Im trying to escape this catastrophe,
But you coerce until my original thoughts become extinct
Hear me when i say i want to shriek until my reflection shatters
And my soul can equally and oppositely be repaired
Someday i hope my insides can scream as loud as they desire
When ill no longer live under your pharisaical empire
You want me to follow the road you paved for me,
Never falling astray,
but I guess you forget that respect goes both ways
Trust me i know how to yell, you taught me very well
But this is nowhere near
Expression of emotion should never be oppressed.