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  May 2016 Rheanna S
raine miller
2:37**

dragging myself down the hall to the shower is harder than i thought it would be, but at this point i'll try anything to numb the pain.

shedding clothes like cards of the losing hand, i stumble into the marble coffin, letting the scalding water tear away at my raw soul.

as the life-giving waters lace ice through my skin with needlepoint perfection, i vaguely remember that being burned alive is supposed to hurt, so i squirt soap in my eyes in order to cry.
part three of what i have now decided will be a series of eight.
  May 2016 Rheanna S
Maple Mathers
something;
everyone’s seeking something.

*
Ready or not, hiding or not,
someone will always,
ALWAYS*,
come
seeking.

  May 2016 Rheanna S
Maple Mathers

Dear Mother and Father,*

        I spoke with Ali today. Maybe it was the first time in years. Maybe it was the first time that we’d ever actually spoken at all. Either way. She told me some things that I thought you should know.

Prostitutes, ******, what have you. They’re not born, they’re created.

         Focus on this. Your white picket fence. Your barbecue, your big family dog. Your pristine, rich neighborhood. Your uppity gossip. Your rules, judgements, “charity.”

         Behind your closed doors, however, dwells something else.

         Something like hypocrisy. Something like abuse.

Now focus on this.

         Ali: dark and brooding, even as a small child. Questioning all of your family values, the ones that I had merely accepted.

         My little sister, the ultimate judge, the supreme *****.

         Forbidden black fingernails, black hair; fingernails, which you forced pink, hair that you insisted blond. Friends that you deemed “greasy” and “unsavory”.

         Hateful, teenage Ali. Ditching classes to go off with boys. Returning home with track marks and glossy eyes. Sneaking out with no destination, if only to not be at the one place she couldn’t be herself.

         Home.

Now, this. That awful “it’s not to late to save your soul” camp. A reform jail. Holier than thou epithets. Squeaky clean repentance. A stockade full of higher authority telling her, “you’re wrong,” telling her, “we are going to fix you.”

         Brain washing robots with backhanded facades.

         Sad, scared Ali. It’s no wonder she chose to rebel, for all she knew of authority was hypocrisy.

         Not just you.

         Instead, a withered, sick janitor.

         The old man who brought her the food that they didn’t serve in the dinning quarters. Fresh fruit, chocolate, and cheese. Food to outweigh the everyday gruel.


         This lonely, forlorn man expecting compensation in return. ****** compensation; unimaginable and certainly ungodly acts.

         This Janitor, he would wander into Ali's room in the early hours of the morning. . . And vanish, several hours later.

        His pockets, empty. His heart, full.

         In this sick and twisted world, the janitor believed that love could exist anywhere. He believed that romantic relationships should not be constricted by something as trivial as age.

         And Ali, she had alternative motives, and compensated her innocence to reach them.

         This was, perhaps, the beginning of Ali's stark career.

         The *compensation of her soul.


         Or, perhaps, it was the man that picked her up next, as a desperate hitchhiker.

         Ali, who finagled the nun’s keys and escaped that ungodly place forever.

         Ali, who climbed into a sinister car with a pretentious man who warped her in more ways than one would even imagine.

         Penniless, solitary, and willing.

         But, think. What would you do with yourself if you had absolutely nothing and no one to lose?

         **Prostitutes, ******, what have you. They’re not born, they’re created.
(All poems original Copyright of Eva Denali Will © 2015, 2016)


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  May 2016 Rheanna S
shaffu shafiq
When I close my eyes.
Find you nearby.
It is just like the real world.
Chilly wind and too cold.
When I open my eyes.
With full of tears.
Coming out of the world.
Where you are special to have & to hold.
Out of my fantasy world.
I miss you and die.
To see you in my life.
I have to close my eyes.
None understand it and nobody cares.
Only listening our story and big cheers.
Just like music tune in their ears.
It is you only please
Understand my imaginary world.
Where you are enfolded with gold.
Where love couldn't be sold.
When I close my eyes
I feel,I am a king.
And you my Queen.
And you fairy with wings..
Holding my hand & flying so high.
One world to another world
No barriers no boundaries..
When I close my eyes.
Sun rays salute you.
Moon kisses you.
Morning wishes you.
Evening invites you.
And night waits you..
When I close my eyes.
For a short while.
To see your smile.
Your dashing style.
Your name in my hearts file.
When I close my eyes.
I lost in my world.
It is too radiant and shine.
Because here you are mine.

By shaffu..
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