Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
talk not to me
of the reality that media shoot
at me from morn to evening

not of catastrophes or cruelties
humans inflict upon each other
with never-ending venom

speak to me of the delight
a newborn gives its parents

the joy and pride a child feels
mastering its first challenging task

the sudden sparkle in the eye
of refugees when finally they have reached safety

the wordless joy when two have found each other
and for a time need nobody else

speak to me
of all the moments in our daily life
that make us proud to be human
Courtney Lyn Mar 2015
I am not my demons
They are made entirely of me.

They are the cruelties I've suffered,
Presenting themselves like tornados through small towns.

Towns that don't seem like much at a passing glance,
But who's residents never doubt
The beauty and potential it holds
If only you stay long enough to notice it.

But how can anyone see the beauty in towns
That are forever being brought to ruins.
At the mercy of something as destructive
And unpredictable
As a **** tornado?
Daylight 4U2C May 2014
I gave away my branches,
I gave away my leaves,
you chopped me up for housing,
then ran off,
leaving me.

I gave away my dirt,
and gave away my air,
I gave away the water,
you said you'd none to spare.

I gave away my patterns,
I gave away my age,
I gave away all I had,
and you'd just take and take.

And now that I have nothing,
I sit alone, and cry
I think how I am now a stump,
and you didn't even say goodbye.
I don't know why,
I give stuff to you.
I tell the others,
it's just what I do.
But I'm ready to jump,
right over the ledge.
You keep laughing,
and pushing me off the edge.
Then you come back around,
asking for solace.
I'd have hit the ground by now,
but i won't get stuck in the past.
So whether or not hurting me was your goal,
Take that you ***!
Being a bully isn't cool.






:3

— The End —