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Saturday, April 29, 2017

The Game

When someone asks you
"how's your day"
you say:
"Everything's okay."
even when you're lying....
Even when you want to cry
you smile at them
and meet their eyes.
You never, ever, ever say
"I need a hug,
I need a friend."
or: "The pain I feel's
too much to bear.
I could give up,
I'm almost there."
They smile and nod
and say the same.
It's all a part
of this little game.
They don't tell you:
"My dad's in jail
and I don't think
we'll afford the bail.
My house is messy,
my job's a bust but
I keep going, because I must."
And you never know
just what's inside,
just what that painted
on smile can hide
even though you do the same.

Thursday, September 29, 2016

Sisters

The eldest is dutiful and diligent, eager to share
knowledge with sisters who do not care
for books without pictures, or stories without flair.
The middle, rambunctious and wild.
The starved for affection child,
who knows not all attention is good
and still does what she should
not. The youngest who thinks she's the boss,
because mom is tired and a loss is easier than a fight.
Easier than struggling each night.
All three compete for a mother's
love, each trying to outdo one another.
They argue, they cry and they fret you see
and yet, they are sisters, and sisters they'll always be.

Monday, August 15, 2016

Inside

crying on the inside,
turmoil.
fear.
doubt.
dying on the inside
weary.
sleepless.
night.
Every day a battle.
fighting.
for my.
life.
Every night a struggle.
will this.
never.
end?
Too much pain around me.
the pain.
I see.
I feel.
If only I could help them.
I want.
my hands.
to heal.
For all the good it does me,
I bow.
my head.
to pray.
But there is no answer.
No one's.
listening.
anyway.



Friday, May 13, 2016

Cruel Life

Time goes on, as if it didn't know
For me it's still. If not, it's moving slow.
All these smiles, they stab me like a knife
and no one knows -- how cruel is this life.
I have no grave to visit, nor ashes to spread.
I don't even know how long you've been dead.
Can I choose to say it isn't so
Can I block it out, as if I didn't know?
If I could hold a paper in my hand,
would I accept it then, would I understand?
How did I let the years go by --
without picking up the phone just to say hi?
Now simply because I didn't try
I'll never even get to say goodbye.
Do I even have the right to grieve?
Am I allowed redemption or reprieve?
Always too busy with my life to hear
Always too tired, too stressed to lend an ear.
The earth still spins and we have dawn
even without you -- cruel life marches on.

Friday, April 1, 2016

Garden Rose

Pressed between two pages, in a book upon a shelf.
He seeks to hide your beauty, and keep it to himself.
He plucked you from your garden, from everything you knew.
He trimmed away the childhood friends, along whose sides you grew.
He showered you with kindness, and fertilized your hope...
before he banished you to darkness, with which you couldn't cope.

He knows that you will wither, he knows that you will die.
He knows that you cannot escape, because you'll never try.
He's warned you of the dangers, that in the world await
if ever you decide to roam, beyond his garden gate.

You had thorns to protect you, but he wore a glove.
He said you didn't need them, because you had his love.
He'll let you live in misery, then put you on display
He thinks that he's a potter, and you're a piece of clay.

You envy things that aren't alive, because they cannot feel.
Think maybe it's a nightmare, that none of it is real.
You try hard to remember, your lovely garden home
but he chips away your memories, so that you'll never roam.

He doesn't see your true worth, and he ignores your pain.
And even though you're not dead yet, you might as well be slain.


Thursday, March 10, 2016

Domestic Violence

I know your self-esteem is tangled with his love
that's how he knows, no matter what, it'll never be enough...
to make you leave.
I know you cry at night, and think you're all alone
you're praying for a sign, and he throws you a bone
so you won't leave.
I know you hide the bruise, explain away the scar
you never will admit, that he has gone too far
and you don't leave.
You think that he is broken, and you alone can heal
explain away his drinking, it's his only way to deal
but you don't leave.
I heard last night you left, took all that you could take
too bad you're in a sleep, from which you'll never wake.

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

You Lose

You stab me with the knife of indifference
right before you plunge me into the icy cold depths of apathy.
All this as you smirk, and nudge and whisper.
But as I get close the talking stops and silence reigns.
And it is clear that you... think... you're... better... than... me.
Better because:
your clothes are neatly pressed...
Your children are more well-behaved...
you chose not to have children...
You don't make as many mistakes...
you don't forget things...
You make friends easily...
You're still married...
You chose not to marry...
And you smirk and laugh and judge so easily.
You think you know me at a glance.
You see:
The way I dress.
My shy manner.
My rowdy children.
My forgetfulness.
You see my mistakes.
But you don't see me.
You never see me.
You never know me.
And you lose:
 the comfort I give when my friends are in need.
 a sympathetic ear.
The thought I put into my gifts.
My silliness and my humor.
my empathy.
The fun we could have had together,
if you'd gotten to know... the... real... me.