Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2018 · 155
When I Look at You
Kalora Mar 2018
When I look at you-
No one has an ugly mind like you.
When I see your face-
No one has an ugly nose
Like you do.

When I think about you I get shivers down my spine-
Who would ever think you would be likely to be mine?

When I remember you-
No one says harsh words like you.
When I laugh with you-
No one else gets mad
Like you do.

Poke me in between my eyes that grow tired watching you cry-
No one has a fair life
No one has a chance.

When I touched you,
Ice between my fingertips, an empty hollow filled with lips.

When I hear your voice,
Nothing makes me want to rejoice,
Do you like the fear? It closes me in, drawing you near-

You and I-
Will end eventually.
One million funerals for all the days in February-
You have that wandering gaze that turns sun rays blue-
When I look at you.
Written 2016
Song lyrics (Odd pacing)
Mar 2018 · 136
Not Broken
Kalora Mar 2018
Alone and feeling desolate in a life you just regret
death and loss around me, can you even try to picture it?
Sudden doubts of failure overflow I can't contain her
try to pick her up and bathe her but she goes numb and stays there.
Losing weight, losing mind, years flow, now behind-
always lost, always new, this is what it's coming to.
Pressure builds, darkness surrounds her, drowning her thoughts in pillows, yeah-

If only she had a pen to conjoin, connect the dots
to form a clearer picture.
Feeling like a puzzle piece on the floor-
Bound to the carpet-
With no energy to reach the door
and
All she ever really even wanted was more-
More from life, more to breathe, one hundred years, in between-
Life and death, more risks to feel the fear.
She wanted to fly so much closer to the sun until it scalded her, reminding her how easily her skin can peel.
But now it's too late for her.

She stepped on one thousand voices until they cracked and opened, exposing how they really feel.
All the faces surrounded her and the corner got smaller and smaller, I'm telling you- she couldn't breathe.
She was untouched by the world years before and she didn't know how to be.
Submission was the punishment for ignorance at the end of the situation-
She's so small now, so closed off-
So small and so closed off.
She has no heart it's all but ice-
She isn't mean, she isn't nice.

No one wants to hold her pain and no one even asks about it, turn around or change the subject-
Hidden thoughts go unchecked.
Try the lock, find a key, it's buried close enough
but she knows people aren't dogs and won't dig enough to find it.
She will tell you not to worry, and they will always accept the bluff.
Acceptance is what she learned, low expectations are what she gained.
Forget about the pain, erase it.

Her armor, made of paper but strong enough to stop a bullet.
Her eyes though gentle cry when she's asleep,
Haunted by nightmares of what she had escaped.
Her smile, always friendly but show none of her past- because she knows it doesn't matter now.
No thoughts, no love, no care, abandon all emotions in a ditch and leave them there.
"None of it matters," she tells herself.
Positive emotions are lies and negative ones are annoying.
Not broken and strong, she knows exactly where she's going.
Written 2017
Slam Poetry
Mar 2018 · 155
Something Not Sour
Kalora Mar 2018
Your smile.  It floats through the skies on the wings of butterflies-
Hits me in the face like a ten-ton truck and makes me see stars when the sun is still up.

Your eyes.  They glisten like newborn dolphins hitting the light for the first time- I sign, as my soul feeds into the black hole.  Frozen, I'm captivated, a prisoner to you.

And I love the way your clothes smell, it reminds me of the river and 3am- Donuts, moves, and crying through my grins.  The way your heart beats, I can hear it in my sleep.  Yours to keep.

Your hands.  They make and destroy entire cities inside my mind-
when you grab mine- I'm far above cloud nine.  I'm on cloud ten thousand.  Yeah, ten thousand.

How can I begin to describe what you are to me- when you're simply everything I think and see.  The omnipresent carnivore that eats through my dreams and completely devours me.
Written 2017
Slam Poetry
Mar 2018 · 214
Silence
Kalora Mar 2018
The waves move rapidly, they beat against the shore
Who can hear them?
No one knows the answer
The pots fly across the room, onto the kitchen floor
The door spins wide open, letting in some shore
The walls sag and plead no more
Who can hear them?
No one hears the question
The waves keep crashing
Written 2004
Mar 2018 · 160
Superwoman
Kalora Mar 2018
Home from work.
You're lying on the floor,
Do you hurt again?
You're crying so I try to think ahead,
Should I cut my legs off to help you get to bed?
You're a repeat of yesterday,
Death threats and concepts you couldn't get to anyway.
Your schedule is always booked,
Meals are never cooked,
It's cold in this world but I'm getting red,
It's getting old.
I'm mad and your spirit is leaving you,
Realizing I never even knew you.
Screaming and dying all in one day,
I thought I told you "no" and to stay away.
You don't listen because you need my eyes and ears.
Still, I'll never tell you what you want to hear.
Forget love and false happiness,
So cold,
I forgot how to reminisce.
Don't talk to me about responsibility,
Think of everything I've done for you compared to what you did to me.
Delusional, insane, and fake,
My anger towards you makes me want to recreate
Horrible fight scenes we had in the past.
Kicking, screaming, hate that will outlast.
Stupid relationships.
Stupid boys.
I'm not your maid, babysitter, or toy.
My bank is empty because I did too much for you.
I would say I'm sorry, but, *******.
Put up with all your messed up ****,
While you whined and complained about the problems God put you with.
I handled your issues and balanced your mind,
Lost mine in the process,
And you still left me behind.
I'm not sorry that you're crazy,
Your memory is clearly too hazy.
And it's funny how you act so tough like you never cried.
Like all my other ex's, I'll just pretend you died.
Written Jun 29, 2015
Mar 2018 · 222
Shut Out From The Gold
Kalora Mar 2018
You don't want to go to bed, you don't want to see the sun,
You don't want a new start, you just want it to be done,
You  don't want to have to worry about being right or doing sins,
You don't want to sit and waste, keeping your thoughts strong, making your face bend-
Now you wish you could stay positive, look to another end,
but the problem is you're scared to allow your life to extend
and I've been in that place, where there's no way out but to wait it out-
But how long does it have to be without the screams and shouts?
All these bad feelings, the omens that follow me,
Following me right behind, in and out my mind until I can no longer foresee
-
In the end, I have no options or prophecies
I think of me and see all of what could have been and couldn't be
In my mind, shut out from the gold, I try to get over the truth that has been told-
In reality, it's just the love that I lack, just ignore the reasons why there's a wall in my face and a cliff at my back
So should I climb or fall into the sack that never closes or opens but just pulls its handles back
Click clack they say when they're clambering together inside my head not letting me relax
And I swear I'd be in jail if only the jury could see all of the horrific acts that happen inside of me
MY MIND it never stops thinking, shut out from the gold, will you ever see how I'm thinking?
Written 2014
Slam Poetry
Mar 2018 · 183
The Girl
Kalora Mar 2018
This girl she stood, just tall and thin. Those who knew called her Allison. Alone she stood in pants and shirt, not on pavement but with shoes in the dirt. Rumors were told by few and many, truth was never very plenty. For those who spoke, she did not hear, for instead she would just disappear. For her black shoes against the dirt, looked never ***** to hide her hurt. With her brown hair and her brown eyes, she liked to laugh with all the guys. With her large eyes and bouncing curls, she did not enjoy the company of many girls. It was not but a year ago when life was different and she wore her bows. In dresses too, she learned to sew, on the edge of rolling dough. A helper if there was any and careful too with every penny. Outside, it seemed, her life just gleamed with granted wishes of problems cleaned, from this object to that, she appeared to be a brat, but it was her emotions she was trying to work at. At school she knew almost everyone, she could talk to each until the day was done. Some of them even now did not know, the words written beneath the cover below.

A sunny day, it may have been, if there was not breath running thin. The news hit fast and the news hit hard, her mother's death caught her off guard. For her friends at school were concerned, no one was ever sick, for each day went by so quick. Who has the time to stop and think, what tears are hidden behind each eye's blink, she was just one girl and a girl alone, on her face no sorrow ever shown. A week she was granted, to stop and relax, and to think about how her mother had passed. Alone with her dad she sat and reviewed, what it really felt like, if there was such a mood. As the loss of this token hit her hard, when she returned to school she received a card. Signed by each student of the class, with a note in each which only words could surpass. With remembrance from two of her most well-known friends, a girl and a guy, written both with their best gel pens.

On the day she returned to school, her once known friends thought she was no longer cool. An awkward beast without a mother, she was no longer like any other. For the ones she knew the best, they talked with her as if they were taking a test. So careful they breathed out every word, through broken teeth soft cries were heard. Different now, and not the same, there was not a soul she could have blamed. The odd one out and the only one in, she watched her friends not grow but thin. Time has passed since this girl was young but still the kids still have a song to be sung, the song, at least, about a girl, with such a sad life it made the children pretend to hurl. Jokingly they would all pretend that life and loss was easy to apprehend, to understand, to love and wait, these were the children that did not appreciate.

It was one day and a grade or two beyond, in a new school, more and more children seemed to spawn. Still she stood, alone and still, for those her knew her talked of her life and how it went downhill. They called her weird, they called her creepy, never getting to learn what was inside her mind when she was sleepy. Laying down, one's thoughts ablaze, each and every day passing by like a thick haze. She reached out to one, a teacher of many, old her in age, but in wisdom plenty. She spoke of hope and held her tight, not giving notice of the tears that soaked her with delight. The teacher told her, “Be strong and keep moving, don't you ever give up, just keep on improving. I know of your skill and your mind is a sponge, just make a to-do list and keep it expunged. Your mom is above you, an angel in the sky, don't ever ignore her loving and watchful eye.” I said to my teacher, “But how do you know?” She looked at me, her face full of woe. She said nothing more and dismissed me to class, for the bell had wrung and it was the day's last.

On the way there, she stood in the hall, a man approached her, he looked very tall. He spoke down to her and he spoke down with anger, “Why do you think you can avoid so much danger? Do you know what you do to this school all the time, skipping and staying home, this school is not to be considered part-time. Do you think your problems are great in the number, do you think that you are the only one who wishes they were in deep slumber? My dad and my mom, they are having a bad time, they are sick and do you think anyone gives them a dime? Their care isn't cheap and you make my work hard, why can't you just come to school instead of being a lard?” The girl was taken back with fear and dismay, her thoughts went abound of what the man said that day. She answered back softly, “You are not my age, sorry, but it is true, I don't mean to upstage it's just hard for me, so hard, at this age too. Your parents are sick? Well I hope they get well, I hope you don't have to go to the hell in which I dwell.” She then walked away and held her head low, feeling selfish and angry at how the man didn't just say 'hello'.

It was when her father questioned her, why her friends have grown so thin, did she reply from her voice within. She spoke lightly but fierce in her words, her eyes mysterious with each word, as if a bird's. “With this time I've had alone, only my thoughts were the ones that shown. Gone are the days I follow and listen, now are the days I feast like a grison. On my own self, of course, my thoughts are free flown, my opinions are only ever my own. For the girls that sit and laugh, I see you afar, your mouths never closed but always ajar. It's nice you laugh and smile with glee, but why is the source sometimes, from me? I stand alone, and no friend can be with me I know, but why must that put me below? In this time I've had alone, I now know what is real, my life, their life, is separate in the ways that we feel. Never did they know me, nor me them, but we end up disliking each other in the end. Even they may have secrets untold, or perhaps lives of their own to rediscover, but we should all know by now not to judge books by their cover.”
Written 2014

— The End —