what they call a heart, my every anchor chained
what the pages make my story, every loss explained
like words in letters, as if they retain it, like they make it better
as if the knowing of it loosed or broke these fetters
eight ways the shapes of my only alphabet spells s-u-r-v-i-v-o-r
infinitely too short a word and leaving me to wander again if I'm alive in her
they think it breeds strength to outlive the beatings
they think it makes a great chase never retreating in the pursuit of what's fleeting
just once couldn't I rest and feel safe like it could all get clearer?
in the haze of aging when I'm sure it isn't my real smile in any mirror
in the crowded, faceless streets of having to stand on my own two feet alone
with all the hurtful, hateful, squalls this living condones
everyone thinking they know me because they know my name
know the face that's a mask over what's hollowed out by the aches I don't explain
and someone asks me to come near, to be dear, to love again
and they give like gifts and they mend the rifts and they care and then
the cycle of costs begins again, the loss of the friends again breathes
and makes every swallowed wine taste less like escape and reminds that it never relieves
and every candle on a cake burns another year I waited to start over
and every green field yields beauty unnoticed in my frantic search for a lucky clover
the pages pile with words wasted on hoping for better
and my few days waste away with so much time lost in trying to understand "forever"
so if you think that you know what made me then you haven't been listening to the words I didn't say
and if you've ask me for love then you've never felt what I already gave away
so put the times you've felt greatness on one side and see if they outweigh the hurt
or if the scales tip in favor of the ways you've failed and it still hurts
and trudge the horrible roads to the edges of the maps and see if you outrun the hurt
and see if any hand held or risk taken or affection given dispels the way you hurt
all the slivered glass pieces of my heart just cut me to blood as I try to pick them up
and all that my view of what could have been does, is lend tears as I watch those doors shut
and all another line will explain
is how it will never be the last line if I'm trying to write out the pains
I can never explain the hurt
I died today.
A slow burning death.
They said I would be ok.
But I died today.
As I silently wept, slowly withering away.
They said I would be ok.
They said they'd remember me.
Who were they?
They killed me.
My cries for help
Its too late.
To save the dead.
They murder that young girl I once knew as her.
She was once me.
Now known as They.
there is a riot in my heart
I arranged some rocks in a circle
then started a fire in my back yard
I tossed my flag of freedom in
'cause f--k this place
and f--k the world I was born in
I can't seem to get it right
I have peaceful dreams
and it's the nightmares that rule the world
I'm nauseous in groups of people
I'd rather stand back unnoticed as it unfurls
spiraling downward with haste
some of us just want to watch the world burn
I dance with the flames
to the sound of singing trees
the slight whisper of the wind relaxes me
I can see flashes of eyes coming from the edge of the wood
I wonder what the animals think of what they are seeing
a thought that I let run through me
standing still, looking within myself
what do I think of what I'm seeing
what do I think of what I'm feeling
there's a spark of lunacy in every human being
and that's what I seem to be experiencing
only myself and nature get to see
how I deal with everything
so that I can wake up everyday with my sanity
Pity the day that goes unnoticed,
The sunshine dancing on blind eyes.
Mourn the sky for existing to the point of ignorance.
But cheer for the fox that dances at twilight,
For the child who still sits in awe of life.
Root for those who know little and embrace it all.
I am a miners daughter. I am a gold panners' wife.
He is busy gold panning while I run around the forest enjoying nature.
Left alone, of no interest, no comparison to the prospect of gold.
As I sit here naked, I wish that I was an interesting as the prospect of gold.
I wish my gold were being sifted from the sands, with his hands.
I am pure gold, why can't he see.
He bought the claim, he has the deed.
But my gold goes unnoticed, as does my needs.
He said so many things - you
are a loser, a vixen, a brave
soldier; you are the gesture so small
it goes unnoticed, the whore at the bedside
making sad eyes,
the unsigned divorce papers on
the dusty desk -
so many things he said,
I liked them all. Even
when he said, "you're beautiful".
Once, after dinner, we watched the stars,
and the silence was too penetrating.
He called me a liar then. Because
even in the dead of silence
my body speaks false, like that
one slip of the bar across an otherwise
perfect piano piece,
or the It's lovely upon receiving the dullest
gift around the Christmas tree.
And when he finally caught on,
I even liked the sound of his leaving
and my cold heart crashing
onto the floor.
a lonely girl
with vacant stares,
screaming in silence
but nobody cares.
her pain goes unnoticed,
no one can tell.
She smiles like an angel,
but she's living through hell.
her eyes brim with madness;
she cuts her own skin.
her sad little smile,
fades and grows thin.
scars on her body,
scars on her soul.
this hateful world
has taken it's toll
not mine but i'd thought i'd share because i can relate and maybe some of you can too
With voice like honey and skin like silk
She beats the eggs and pours the milk
Wrestles the dog and empties the trash
She takes time to medicate small child's rash
Her blue eyes are weary and stressed from the day
With priestly reverence, kneels down to pray
Like gust of great wind, collapses and sighs
Tries not to let salty clear tears fill her eyes
With efforts unnoticed, she lays down to rest
So thank all your mothers, they do their jobs best
I like saying your name so much that when I do, I say it slowly and precisely
Enjoy the taste on the tip of my tongue and let it slip, so effortlessly, through my lips.
I don't let myself say it often, so sometimes I sound out the letters in my head and instead,
I dance with them.
The next time I say your name, it overflows with meaning that goes unnoticed by everyone else
I pretend your name is just another word
It's a secret between your name and I that even you are not aware of
What does it mean to have to ability to see the things unseen
by the common population?
Does it mean that every movement
has a deeper value than something unwanted and shallow?
unnoticed by most
but so very relevant
to the ones it holds meaning for.
Why do we let things deminish our self worth?
To whom it may concern I care.
I actually do care.
I feel everything.
Sometimes to deeply.
But surely enough I feel it.
No matter what may come out of my mouth
unto a world that is not yet ready for my greatness,
I will continue to care and make it known to others.
To whome it may concern.