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storm siren Jan 2018
I stare in the mirror,
But my brown eyes very pointedly avoid my reflection.
Instead I allow my sunset eyes
To pour into the cracks at the edges of the glass.
Not enough damage to the mirror to consider it broken,
Therefore not enough damage to consider it bad luck.

I stare into the scrapes, cracks, and scratches,
Until I see someone I have always been familiar with.
I may be even more familiar with this person
Than I am with myself.

My eyes lock
With what
Almost
Was.

Yes, the Almost!me.
The Not!me.
The Could-have-been!me.
The Just-Wasn't!me.

I am very familiar with her/him/they.

She is athletic, and only smiles when people are around.
He is talented, and his hands are always covered in a thin-to-moderate layer of graphite.
Their favorite color is spit-fire red, and they've seen too much for their age, but they love even more.

See, there are a lot of differences between me and those versions of me,
Like how she has a cute golden blush to her cheeks,
Or how he has a fondness for sunny days and blue skies,
Or that they always pull their friends in for a warm hug before they say goodbye.

But the one major difference is:

When I look at rain clouds,
I see all the potential that rain has to offer,
Not the destruction of my plans.

When my life takes a turn for the worse,
I see my loved ones as a reason to stick around,
Not as reasons to pack up and leave.

The difference is
When I said that I didn't want to be alive anymore,
I had someone who wanted to protect me from myself.

The difference is
When I said I didn't want to be alive anymore,
I was give at least five reasons to stay.

The difference is
When I said I didn't want to be alive anymore,
I had people who loved me that had the guts to try to convince me that I might want to rethink that statement.

So I wave goodbye,
I clean off the mirror,
And I turn off the lights to the bathroom as I walk out.

Each time I walk past my reflection for the rest of the day,
I make eye contact with myself,
As a way of saying
"Thank you for staying."
A way of saying
"Thank you for surviving."
A way of saying
"Thank you for trying to live."
and then
"I really needed that today."

See, the big difference between me and all the almost!me's, is that I am here,
Very firmly and very stubbornly above ground,
Despite my past efforts.
And they...
They are not.

The biggest difference between me and the me that wasn't,
Is that they just weren't.
And I am.

I am.
storm siren Dec 2017
"The days without you
Bleed together
Until they are nothing more
Than another obstacle
I must overcome."

There is a twisted road
That leads straight between us.
I walk along the forked path
And no matter which way I turn
I always end up in your arms,
Lost in your eyes,
But I know you've found me
All the same.

Your smile is a warm blanket
As it gently settles against
The curves of my body.
Your name blushes my cheeks,
It runs through my hair,
Rests softly on my lips,
Tingling my tongue.

When the painful weight of missing you
Begins to put pressure against my throat,
Squeezing my windpipe shut,
I whisper that you are mine.

And suddenly,
Everything else melts away.
Suddenly, I am free.
Suddenly, I know home is not far off.

You will forever be my always.
storm siren Nov 2017
If my life
Was a pretentious and overly validated
Piece of literature
Written by a skittish play-write
Who most likely used a pen-name
To write things,
Then my life so far
Would be considered a "Tragedy".
As in, everyone either leaves or dies.

It wouldn't be a Tragedy that made sense.
No, it wouldn't be like Hamlet, or Macbeth.
It would be more like Romeo & Juliet.

As in, it all started because two people
Made some dumb choices.
And then bad things happened.
And then everyone involved continued to make dumb choices
And lots of people got hurt.

My life, so far,
Could be considered a very literal
"Series of Unfortunate Events".

I never was very good
At forming relationships with people.
Friendships, bonds, whatever.
I don't know how to make a connection
With people.
And when I do,
I sabotage it.
Because everyone leaves.
So I burn that bridge before they get a chance
To even srtike a match.

I'm not a permanent-kind-of-person.

I never have been.

I've never wanted to be. At least, that's what I tell myself as the bridges collapse into ash and soot and smoldering embers.

... And then, there was you.

You, the kind of person whose rare cheshire grin lights up the whole room,
Even if just for a second.
Even if it was just there on your face for a second.
There was at least a little light,
For at least a second.

You, who refuses to leave my side.
You, who puts up with my inability to comprehend that you love me and you are staying and that I don't have to be afraid. I don't have to burn our very old bridge.

You, with your thoughtful scowl,
And loving hands.
You, who quietly observes the world.
You, who is always there when I need it.
You, who is always there when I want it.

You, who is my everything.

You, who I love.

You, who I have always loved.

Maybe we'll get a happily-ever-after, after all.
storm siren Nov 2017
Close your eyes,
Open your mouth.
Count how many lies
Come spilling out.

You always said
I was more of a friend
But then I spoke the truth,
And you marked me as condemned.

I was never really your daughter,
Right?
You held my head under the water,
Right?
Got my soul ready for the slaughter,
Right?

Well, no, not tonight.
I just might
Have a little more fight,
A little more spite,
A little less bark
A little more bite.

You wonder why I'm this way?
So filled with pain, so filled with rage?
You took my childhood and you let it decay,
You took my pain and put it on a stage,
Taking my story
Away from me,
Twisting my tragedy
Into your comedy.

Listen to the howling wind,
Watch my light as it begins to dim,
As my breathing begins to thin.
You ripped me apart, limb from limb,
Left my pseudo-body dead and mostly skinned.

You never knew the truth,
It got taken from you
In your youth.
You never knew the truth,
It was ripped from your gums like a rotting tooth.

Mama, did you ever love me?
Did you ever love anybody?
Why did you leave me so bloodied?
Why must you muddy
Every chance you have
At helping anybody?

Father, did you ever care?
Was life always about
Earning more than your fair share?
Things only matter
If they play on your despair,
And I'm sorry, but that game gets us nowhere.

Was I ever more than a tool?
An object to be used?
A being to be abused?

I would be playing a fool
If my eyes held more fire
Than this calm cool.

It's hard to convince myself not to care,
Apparently it's just so unfair
That my heart is so threadbare,
That my nerves only know of scares,
But you never cared,
None of this was ever for my welfare.
You twisted me with your psychological warfare,
Bringing me to my knees
As I screamed
"No one should ever care!!"
But now my name is simply a prayer,
A prayer from your lips
That will fall into the cold,
And as your eyes grow old,
It will go unanswered.
The last thing you will hear
Will be the tapping steps
Of Death's dancer.
storm siren Nov 2017
"Why are you burning
Precious childhood memories?"

You get a sudden rush of cold late Winter air.
The world smells like it's never going to stop raining.
Your brother and you are sitting outside the garage.
You can't stop crying,
But he's still trying his damndest to comfort you.
You were five.
For three years after, you will still think it is your fault
For coming inside covered in rain water.

"Why are you burning
Precious childhood memories?"

Your eyes stung with tears.
Your chest felt heavy.
But you couldn't tell what hurt worse,
The literal smack across the face,
Or the sting of betrayal when your mother agrees with your father,
That you are, in fact, no good.

"Why are you burning
Precious childhood memories?"

You're sitting out in the living room of the apartment.
The room is dark,
Except for a fading lamp.
It is 9:30 at night.
The sun is only beginning to fall behind the horizon.
Your father finally speaks,
After clearing his throat,
A slight cough to clear the residual cold from the ice of his drink-- tonight was scotch, thank god.
He says "Y'know, it's okay if you're a lesbian. Just make sure your girlfriend is hot. Oh, and blonde." He laughs bitterly between sips.
You can smell the alcohol from where you're sitting.
You can feel the dread in the pit of your stomach.
You feel hot anger piercing and burning your palms.
You hold your fists tighter.
You clench your jaw until your head hurts.
You mumble something.
"What?" He snaps, half apathetic, have with a dangerous edge.

"I don't like blondes." You say through gritted teeth. It's only a half-truth. You don't actually like anybody, blonde or otherwise.

He laughs, but you know it's forced.
"Trust me when I say this, you definitely can't afford to be that picky."

Your eyes meet his. Shadow against shadow. Midnight against midnight. You don't speak. He laughs, and goes on to tell you how he's the only one in this family that even likes you, so you better start being nicer to him.

"Why are you burning
Precious childhood memories?"

You don't remember hurting yourself,
So when she asks, you tell her
That you don't know where the cuts came from.
She calls you a coward for not having already taken your own life.

"Why are you burning
Precious childhood memories?"

You were up all night,
Wishing you wouldn't wake up.
You go to walk out the door to the bus,
You stop in the kitchen to grab something quick for breakfast.
As soon as your hand reaches the cupboard handle, you can feel her gaze on your back.
You decide you don't want breakfast that morning.

"Why are you--"

She's in the hospital again.
You just wanted to celebrate your brother
Having made it another year in this hell hole.
But that's not what she wanted.
You both spend his birthday sitting silently in the hotel room,
Staring out the window,
Wishing that Spring would bring a change along with all the warmth it promises.

"-- burning precious childhood memories?"

Your little brother his crying.
The other is asleep.
But this brother has a cold.
The other is still asleep.
This brother cries
Because he doesn't feel good.
He's barely four months old
So he can't use his words.

He's crying very loudly.

She screams in his face.
Tells him to stop crying.
Tells him to just shut up already.
You jump off the couch
And yell at her as loud as your eight year old self can manage to be.
"DON'T YELL AT HIM. HE'S ONLY A BABY!"

She glares at you,
A wicked snarl,
And tells you that she'll do whatever the hell she wants,
You're her children.

He's still crying.
Now they're both awake,
And they're both crying.

"Why are you--"

"W-why are y-you"

*"Why are you burning--"
storm siren Nov 2017
Do you think
You could find the solution
To all this confusion
Within the lines
Of our Constituition?

No, no, hear me out,
Listen to these words,
That's what it's all about.

See, you think this is a Christian nation,
So let me explain,
Let me offer an explanation.

The point of this place,
Of our foundation,
Was freedom from persecution,
So let me clear the air
Of your verbal pollution.

See, the answer is in the opening statement,
In the words that expressed our need
For a moral replacement.

Listen, just listen,
To the words that would christen
Ever chance we are given
To pursue our ambition.

See, you want freedom.
You claim that is your cause,
But I'd wait a second,
Let my words give you pause.

Do you want freedom of religion,
Or is it just your decision
To bend with omission
Making the moral-north
Your special brand
Of Christian superstition?

See, you might not like
What I have to say,
But not much really matters
When you've been led astray.

The words that were written
Were giving permission
To speak fact or fiction
In whatever rendition
Suits your composition.

What was said was
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion,"
Removing any notion
Of this nation being Christian.

They went on to add
"... or prohibiting the free exercise thereof;"
Establishing that we should dispose of
This notion that no love
Is the only free love.

It was then mentioned
That no one within power
Could prevent the intention
Of speaking loudly enough
That all could listen.

We were told our right
Was freedom of speech
That we all have
Our very own thoughts to preach.

We were given freedom of the press,
To say whatever truth must be addressed,
So we have more options,
More answers
Than just "No" or "Yes".
Nevertheless,
This process
Seems to digress
Away from the point,
To liberate the oppressed.

Listen,
This world is filled with danger,
We cannot take pride in being a nation of strangers,
Where the failings of our system
Is taken out on a teenager.

I just feel like we were supposed to be better,
Than a thread of angry tweets
And a Scarlet Letter.
I look back at those kids
Who have only blood on their sweaters,
And I start to remember
That we, the people,
We, the hopeful,
We don't surrender.
We are stronger together.

And as a former child
Whose smile
Was defiled
And wasn't given a chance
Before being exiled,

I urge you to look at your own,
To thank those you love
For always coming home.

I dare you to look an innocent in the eyes
And tell them there are so many possessions
That are worth more than their lives.

Because, to you,
Nobody is their own.
It is well known
That you will cast the first stone
Until you hear the break of their bones.
Why is it so important to you,
Someone else's *** chromosome?
Someone's reason for leaving home?
Someone making choices for their own?

You act like you do no wrong,
That as long
As you spit venom
The hatred will make you strong
But I know
That you knew all along
The enemy was never me
Or the people
We strive to be,

But it was the voice
That you use so cruelly
And told us not to believe,
So believe me when I say,
There will come a day
One cold Sunday
Where the runaways
Won't run away,
And you'll hear us say
"Come what may,
We're here to stay."

Because the rate of suicides
Is becoming much too high
For us to try
To hide
This monster that's eating us up inside
We try to confide
That it's this or that side
But we are all aware
That if we just put down our pride,
And stood with our hands held together
Our eyes fixed on the sky
We could do better,
We could love one another,
We could accept every sister or brother or other.
It just depends
On how soon we want the bloodshed to end.
storm siren Oct 2017
This wasn't supposed to be pretty.

This wasn't supposed to be clever.

This is only supposed to be honest.

I just want to die.
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