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Madison Oct 2018
I am so sorry

That they've burned down your home

Left you standing upon barren ground

Cast stones through sacred things

They shouldn't have even touched.


I am so sorry

That this ugly world

Uses fear as ammunition

Never paying mind

To how you must feel

When used as the target.


I am so sorry

That people have 'opinions'

About these tragedies

Even turning well-deserved eulogies

Into slippery slopes.


I am so sorry

There were people screaming

Just when you were trying

To rest.


And I am so hopeful

That you will reach such magnificent heights

That they will never understand.
My heart goes out to the victims of the massacre at The Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and everyone who was affected. Words can not express the pain and anger that come along with situations like these.

If you would like to support the synagogue and those affected by the massacre, please donate here:  

https://www.gofundme.com/tree-of-life-synagogue-shooting?pc=&rcid=r01-154068572309-160a2bed6a4044a3
  Oct 2018 Madison
Laura
With you I am both larger than life,
and steady enough to walk alone.
Madison Oct 2018
With this brush in my hand

I paint new visions

New possibilities

New forms of escape.

It can not be denied

That I am an artist.


It's a tool

Not a weapon

A medium in which I have control

Complete autonomy

If only for the day.


It's not an advertisement.

No part of me is for sale

Now or ever.


I'm not being dishonest

By choosing how I present myself

Nor is it about you.

This reflection is artwork

Any interpretation is all your own.


It's all a product of my own liberty

And it runs much deeper

Than you might want to admit.


Within these simple brushstrokes, I run free

An untamed beast

With brightly-painted claws.



I am not caged

By the stripes that I create.
I feel there's a lot of stigma around makeup. Kind of silly, considering it's very much so an art form...
Madison Oct 2018
He is carved from marble

And I

The selfish sculptor

Want to dig into him

Like clay.


Everyone around me

Who sees my face

Hears my voice

Brushes my skin

Promptly speaks of ice

And yet, I swear

If he would just cast a ray in my direction

I'd be warmed all the way through.


I talk like obsidian

When really

Every bone

Every feeling that I have

Threatens to send me crumbling

Like porcelain.

The sickness in me

Leaves me aching for him to break me

And yet

He already has.


I want to pick his diamond brain

Pull it all apart

Plant a piece of myself

Where he won't notice it.


I want to cover him like paint

Piece all his parts together like a puzzle

Make him remix me like a song

Rearranging every inauthentic part

Until I'm just another one of his masterpieces.


...And I could write a million odes to him

In the ink of this cowardly weapon

And it would never change the fact

That his destiny's spoken for already.
I wanted to write a love poem that reads in a rather nightmarish, disjointed way? Did I succeed?
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