I was making dinner
Just the other night
My little girl, my all
My WORLD
Asked me,"Momma, am I ugly?"
I stopped,
Dead in my tracks
****, grilled onions and peppers
To hell with fried okra
Let them burn in butter
I say,"What on earth, would make you think such a thing?"
She,
My Stella, my all,
Replies," My friend, said I am ugly.
She said my scars are funny."
My heart, STOPPED
What does a mother say?
I was at a loss,
My face, drained of blood
Ugly?
My Stella?
She was sick,
At birth
Yes, she has her scars,
Yes, she's abnormally small
But I think,
She's the most beautiful
Of ALL,
I knelt,
Got on my knees
I looked in her beautiful,
Sky coloured eyes
And I said,
"Stella, you, are beautiful.
In all my life, never, have I seen a more beautiful little girl. Your scars, well, those are Gods love marks. Like lipstick kisses. And they make you special."

I saved a candle from my pity party
Just to burn your house down
Yep, crazy ***** here
Spread the word around
I sent you an invitation
I guess it got lost in the mail
There I sat with my cake and streamers
But you decided to bail
You called me a crazy *****
And you were so, very right
When I use this candle to burn down your house
The flames will be high, and bright
When you run out the door to escape the heat
I'll be there, without fail
Because unlike you, when I'm invited
I show, I Promise I won't bail
I sat at my party crying
At the fact that you didnt show
You dont bail on a crazy *****
Boy, didnt you know?
Black mascara running
My eyeliner, an awful mess
I paid far too much money,
For this satin party dress
Where the **** were you?
Laughing at me I guess
You called me a crazy *****
Do I agree? YES

People, they don't wish to see, or hear
Reality
They like only what they see, that is pleasant,
Their reality,
Consists only of *******
Parties, skin,
Thats it
Skin, and bone
No more,
No less
Silly creatures
Feeling nothing,
Seeing
Even
Less,
Yep,
Thats people

Heaven help us all,
And GOD bless

Claw marks down the wall,
Lined with red
Music keeps me alive
But drives me insane

I'm afraid common sense,
Sadly, has died
Invitations were sent,
But very few replied
It was even announced,
In the papers, on the news
I guess everyone was too busy,
With Donald Trump interviews
Mysterious, I think
That the day of the inauguration,
Common sense met,
Its final destination

It was a cart once made for shopping
Now lost and long forgoten
It was a cart once silver and shiny
Now old, disgusting and grimy

She found it there in an unused lot
It was exactly what she had sought
In it she placed her worldly belongings
Including her hopes, her dreams, and longings

She took it with her wherever she went
Hours organizing it where spent
Not one thing about that cart was inept
She knew every scrap of paper, and were it was kept
There was room for her clothes, she had very few
Far less than anyone knew
A spot for the table scraps she managed to find
Who knew you could live on less than a dime

But there in the middle you'll find two old tattered tins
Her most prized possessions where tucked safely within

One tin was for the past and things that are no more
With child like eyes, she'd peek in and explore
For both Joy and Sorrow are contained inside
Amongst the Polaroids of life, a lock of child's hair did reside

The other was for her hopes and dreams
They carried her on, when there seemed to be no means
Even when all the dreams eventually explode and collide
Hope will still be standing strong by her side

Her life as it is now, out here on the streets
Was unexpected, not planned...... the memory repeats

A bright sunny day
Soaking up the sun's rays
Both out by their pool
Him sitting at the bar on a stool
But little boys sure do like to giggle
They squirm, and they wiggle

Her out stretched fingers grazed his shirt as he fell
Her screams of anguish no one could quail
As she held his limp body pleading for him to open his eyes
Screaming at the heavens..... WHY.... WHY.... WHY

Now on this block you can find her every day
Pushing that shopping cart as she limps and she sways
Come bare witness to the sad aftermath
One split second, changed a life's path

©Pauline Russell

Why is it so hard to write poetry when I'm happy?
When I'm content?
When I'm gloriously in love?

Is it a requirement that I be in rage, in sorrow, in pain?
Drunk? High? Comatose?

Can I just not find the right words to describe my feelings?
Or maybe I don't need this outlet when I'm happy. I don't need to cut my emotions from my chest and attach them to words. I want my emotions here with me.

Ignorance is bliss they say,
I never found it
When I was being put down
And they were shouting at me like
"You'll never rise up, you're nothing, ain't worth the time"
And it only gave me another excuse to rap and to rhyme
Expressing my feelings just to get it off my chest
While at the same time writing lines simply to be my best, it's a test
And so far I've been passing, they said I can't do it
But watch as I sonic speed right on through it
I'll defeat the Doctor Eggman and chill with my bud Tails
While you sitting in the corner pointing out all my fails
But I don't care, it's behind, another lesson learnt
So that I progress easier and don't be so badly hurt
I like to help others, a saint some would say
A blessing disguised as a kid you see everyday
But keyword is disguised, every man has his demons
They can be so bad that ol' skull-face takes to reapin'
But I haven't fallen yet, I still stand tall
On the hill, helpless just watching it all burn
I know I'm not liked, by many and still don't care
As long as I live happily then I ain't gonna be snared
By the concept that the best must have a good reputation
But solitude for some is the key to salvation
Why would you want to fit in with people that you don't like?
And when they try to conform you, tell em to take a hike