Do you ever get frustrated?
Tired of the fight.
You're sick of wobbling at the edge,
with nothing going right.
The moon is tugging you once more
and you feel you must take flight.
Even if it means your fall to
doom.

Oh God, let me find freedom soon.

The freedom to scream, as loud and as
pained as blood,
dripping freely from the chest,
the successive scratch marks of my mind
free to air their wounds at last.

There you go everyone, there
is my real past.

It's disgusting and it's vile,
and still has the ability
to rip the smile from my face.
I feel like I'm in
a constant race.

Who can reach her brain first?

Can she really keep reign the bad,
when we provoke the beasts
of her destruction?
Can we quicken her heartbeat
and limit her air?
How about, if we tie her hair to
spiders?
Watch them scuttle closer in,
wriggling and spinning,
trying to reach inside her.

Let's watch her play "find the sin"

The sins we hid within,
which are not hers
but others.
We know she won't want to
cause a bother,
she won't dob us in.

She'll hide them like she
does her soul.
Honestly, she sometimes wonders if it's
worth it after all.

She feels enclosed, compressed,
constricted,
a claustrophobic who finds
solace in small spaces
fears suppression of emotion,
the heavy tread of life,
can sometimes be quite weary.

But it'll be alright, she'll always
find the energy to do that
which is right.

She'll once more start to fight
She'll find solace where she can,
and cradle ***** of light,
she'll find a way to free herself
by flying like a kite;
string holding her down,
but wind taking her high.

She'll dance
and laugh
and twist
and turn
and dive
high up in the sky

Free as a bird, but secret silent as a sigh,
not the least offended, if people
pass her by.

If they can't accept her,
she'll happily flip them off
with a cry of contentment,
that she can finally be free of living
with resentment.

Her Girl, Lady, Woman
firmly by her side,
together they will glide
and ride the
tides of life.

"We're flying!"

They will cry, laugh and love
forever eternally.

Their quirks in constant harmony

And when they lie to rest together,
the girl will whisper:
"We will never die
I'll live so safe in your heart
and you will be in mine"

"I promise, and I know,
our love can only grow"

So I'll never give up.

Ever

*Because, I love you so.

How dare you?*
How dare you presume
that you can still reap
the rewards and the virtues
of those who have chosen to
keep
their offspring,

their livestock,
their produce,
their children.

I am your child
when you deem it plentiful
to prove it.
My temperament, unmild as
it currently is,
was rocked into existence
by your hand
on my cradle.
Your tears,
so heavy, on my head,
and your mind, so
allegedly stable
made me my bed full of straw
and needles.

You left me
uncooked and, as yet, wholly raw.
You who bore me, left me.

You left another to tend to my sores,
one who's age is sure not to eclipse my own.
You *threw me, out to pasture
to roam, alone,
feeling useless and inconvenient to you.

This may not seem true,
but who are you to deem it untrue?

There was no leniency in your
innocently though out cruelty.
For, after all, you must always be innocent.
Always must be abused and misused
by another.
You never perceived that you might be the
other?
Unaware of the pain your apparent
lack of care caused me.

My platonic fellow left to cure me.

Now she's the only one I feel I can
truly trust.
For, emotionally, I only shall do
if I must.

After you.

The disposable razor, judders
across unshaven skin and sprouting
hair is defeated, left to sink into the
drain and far away from me.

This I do for you.

On goes the shampoo, the conditioner,
the body lotion (with that sweet fresh smell),
the liquids streaming off of me with
a scent I know well.

It's the scent of the night before.

The day before you and I choose
each other, once again
to spread laughter and
cure boredom.

It is for this that I bear this small
portion of self mutilation.

The hair is then burnt, or brushed or
bent, as I twist it round resisting
bristles.

All done in case you wish to nestle there.

An outfit is chosen, discarded, then re-picked to a constant monologue:

RedNOworethatonelasttime...OH GOD WHERE IS IT fuckbloodypooandAAAH,
perhapssomepurpleTHATONEnodoesn'tgononoNoNONOONOO blahblahblah.

(well, you get what I mean)
(If not...****. Just me then?)

It's all for you.
Colours smeared onto face,
flowers pierced into skin,
eyelashes lengthened,
the trace of muscles etched into
willing legs and abs...

This I do for you.

And it's worth it, though you'll never quite know
the effort with which it takes,
to replace a sleep deprived villain with a semi
attractive teen. You'll never know,
but it's worth it.

"You look nice today"
is enough to make me quietly
preen
for hours with joy.

A look of appreciation as
you nuzzle in can make the
pain of straighteners and razors
scorch into unyielding flesh.

A kiss on the neck
which has been foundationed
and sculpted for your enjoyment
enough to make me arch like
a swan.

It's enough.

So, this I do for you.

Don't tell me that I'm overreacting,
you who, without a care,
do send me into the past.
You wouldn't know, you were not there.

Fine, in presence you were plenty,
but in comforting voice, you sure were rare,
you were present in my past
but that was when you chose to stare
away from your sins

Which you'd cast down upon my head,
through the way you'd made your bed.

With him
Surely he was your greatest sin

Why did you need to cast your lot,
with that ham ******, emotionally unstable
clot of a man.
Did you choose him "because I can."
or because you really were such a fool,
as not to listen to your offspring, who
could already sense his chill.

"You'll regret this, mum."

But you didn't,
so we did instead.
This blame of yours fell upon
our heads.

You kept him for me,
my brother
and every other whom you
could muster up.
But, in reality: yourself.
You just couldn't bear to be left
on the shelf.

You allowed a viper into eden,
a snake into the nest.
You took all words of positivity,
and you ignored the rest.

I suppose a part of you wanted to test
my limits.

It turned out: none.

You watched, unseeing, as he
wormed his way in.
You watched as my affection
he won.
You watched him glow brighter
than the sun, in my eyes.
You watched him scheme, and hurt, and prise
away my shell of protection.
You watched as he turned me into
a projection, of his tainted reflection.

You watched as love, turned to rejection.

You watched as he lost control.
You watched as I shattered, and was
pushed by him to fall.
You watched him cruel.

You watched, yet somehow recall
me as forever being glad.
Never recalling all the bad,
and the sad, which
you forced me see and hear.

No wonder I don't remember you,
as ever being near.

The striking times I heard your
voice
you were crying or in deep pain,
at times and places
where I had no choice
but to hear you.

Unlike with him, I could never fear you.

Sad, lonely figure.
Desperate for a love
which no ******* from
above
ever chose to give you.

I hope that you know
that I forgive you.

Oh Mother, I will always love you.
Even if it somehow has to be in spite,
of you being one of the causes of my
eternal fight.

I'll always somehow need you
Whether or not you're wrong or right.

I think we both were trying to see,
just how long we could live
without each other.
The answer is two days, and
I feel I shall be supported when
I say, let's not do this again.

No matter how, why, where or when
I don't think my heart can stand the loss,
and my future husband better not give a
toss about you joining us on our honeymoon
(You can bring your own man along to spoon)
for without you I'd surely swoon and stare
longingly at the moon, leaving him
to enjoy the nuptial bed in singularity.
I require my beautiful blonde to bring me clarity.

**** it, I'm trying to say I miss you.