Her folly lies in her capacity to love dangerously,
For she loves in many faces, in many words and in many tongues.
She lives inside her love, mutating her heart ever so.
Relishing, perilously, in the daze of its endangerment.
And for the fragments of her heart she is so terribly loved in return.
But only for a moment.
For she holds too much insanity in her sorrowful bones.
It infests her blue veins and plays with her hair.
It kisses her in the darkness of hidden longing,
And traces her skin with wistful desire.
Her insanity holds her to the wall and caresses her neck.
Her insanity gives her a cigarette and watches her blue smoke dance with a smile in the early morning.
Her insanity laughs with her in a melancholy haze of youthful poverty.
Her insanity holds her in his arms.
Her insanity is inescapably wistful.
It finds her in the night,
In the secret carousels of woeful nostalgia.
Her insanity has destroyed her so, and has so wickedly masked it as bliss.
She is irrevocably doomed, for she will spend her days submerged in an ocean of faces;
Hoping, so beautifully desperately,
That she will find a piece of him inside them.
-

*"Can I stay here a little longer?
I'm so happy here."

Caged I crawl,
Within the filth of society,
Labelled a freak by those who call others blind,
But how does that give them vision?

If you see me as different,
Then obviously I'm a threat,
So you must contain me and chain me,
You call me weak, yet you think you're strong?

But over time,
You cage too many of us,
We are the new society,
With labels we wrote ourselves,
And this inevitable insanity,
Will now only be endured by you,

Because you're normal,
And we're blind,

But we can see you,
And we'll cage you.

When every bone in your body aches to be relieved through death, When it hurts to breathe, when the thoughts and ideations of self harm cut you deeper than any blade could and the thought of suicide is one of hope not fear, when the burdens you bear are so heavy you feel them weigh every inch of you down, when you wake up with regret that you made it through another night, when you feel like you're drowning in the millions of tears that have parted from your eyes, and yet you march on anyway, you throw away the pills, you put down the blade, you pick up that fork of food and you eat, you don't turn to a bottle or drugs, you dig deep within yourself for the fight you swore you had run out of months ago and you carry on with life, that is the rawest and most admirable strength there is.

is there anything
that separates me
from a common disease
because all we do
is infect
and ****.

i'm sure you could imagine,
the new proud parents' joy.
when the doctor finally announced,
"you have a baby boy"

as she held him in her arms,
all their worries were erased.
they didn't know then,
of the troubles they would face.

"i'm sorry i have to be the one to say,
your little boy has cancer.
i know that life seems hard today,
things are always worse before the get better."

endless hours of chemotherapy,
hospitals becoming a second home.
dozens of tests to check his status,
he was watched but felt so alone.

some days he felt big and strong,
and other days trapped in hell.
it was in the little boy's smile,
the way that you could tell.

and though the boy was small in size,
he fought with all his might.
the cancer's strength he matched for awhile,
he put up a pretty good fight.

time of death, 4:12

his mother smoothed down his hair,
and kissed him on his cheek.
the tears rolled down her face,
she'd never felt so weak.

his father felt his son's heart beat,
then fall silent just as fast.
he had been there for his son's first,
and he had felt his son's last.

I am a **** good woman.

I may not be perfect, but I am. Does that confuse you? I love the way my smile shines when I see my reflection, chip and all. I enjoy feeling my hair blow with wind, or wet upon my back. I can stand **** for hours, gazing at every curve, or lack there of, that has graced my silhouette with its presence over the past 19 years and 7 months. Content.

I am not curvaceous nor too thin. I stand before myself. Just a body that did not ask for it's formation when it was sent from heaven, still holding hips that will bear children, breast that will feed villages, hands to uplift the child.
I am a **** good woman.
I come from a womb of the strongest woman I know. I bleed blood from her veins, bared skin that she's given me. I am molded from great women. Their features arrange themselves on my face, their vocabulary runs rapid across my tongue, memories madly through my mind.
I am a **** good woman
I have loved fiercely with compassion. It is without vanity I have compromised myself to love.
I am a **** good woman.*
How dare you think I am not enough?
I came from your rib! I am a part of you.
I have walked miles for mankind, cried for those before us, hurt from wounds you thought were long healed.
Still, I rise.
Impatient to be loved by a man worthy of my greatness.
A man worthy of the long walks of lonesome, sight seeing of chauvinists and fools gold we mistook as lovers.
However
With or without man I am woman.
A **** good one at that.