I hate myself
and my blandness.
I hate my hair
and my sadness.
I hate my nose
and my bruteness.
I hate my feet
and my bitterness.
I hate my legs
and my desperateness.
I hate my wrists
and my selfconsciousness.

Perfection
Beauty
Happy
Brilliance
Selfless
Excitement

Nothing.

War has begun,
And only the leaders son,
Knows what his father has done.
He tries to protect,
The one he loves and respects,
But he knows what to expect,
That blood already trickled down her neck.
She died in battle,
Since she talked prattle.
Not knowing he was coming,
Not knowing what she was becoming.

You curl up in bed,
Just like your mother said.
No monsters in the closets,
No more nightmare deposits.
Its that time of the week,
Where you can get a good nights sleep.
No more sharp claws,
No more strong toothy jaws.
Its about time you over come,
And send the monsters back to where their from!

Why do we feign such rapturous delight,
in pretence to others that all is alright,
what if the soul is quietly suppressed,
cloaked in darkness, hidden and repressed,

Are we ashamed to drape the veil,
to retreat into darkness and embrace the pale,
truth can be found from deep in a frown,
so why wear the clothes and tears of a clown.

© H V Swan

Chipmunk, Chipmunk,
Where could you be?
Maybe in this pretty little tree?
I wish to meet you,
And become your friend.
Maybe I could crush to your little head.
Just promise me you won't scream,
If your blood travels downstream.
So come out little Chipmunk,
If you dare.
Ill be waiting,
Right here,
I sware.