The Red fox
with cool devotion,
moves around in circles
it is brisk in its actions,
blackened grass permeates the ground
it scorches the Savannah
The sullen waters lap around,
tall lillies of sleep,
angling out of sight.
The fish glitters performing somersaults,
captive in the air.

We don’t see the carrots to be cut,
We see the sharp knife that could cut us.

We don’t see the bridge,
We see the other side of the railings.

We don’t see painkillers,
We see medication we could drown ourselves in.

We don’t see the train,
We see the tracks we could lay on.

We don’t see the nice view,
We see the cliff's edge we could jump off.

My body was art --- not to your taste,
you covered me in criticism.
Your words molding me like clay
until the mirror reflected a shell.

The child inside,
forever lost.

Can't stop thinking
Of poetical things
Like an addiction, in a dictionary
That sometimes sings
Thinking of using a pseudonym
As a her, no hymn
As i join poet's anonymous
Anonymously
Love irony
Not ironing
As i iron out
Adversity
Is a CRHYME
A criminal rhyme?

by Jemia