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Her saturate beauty
in violet black light.
The narcotic consent
some Saturday night.
Colours are bleeding
a vivid dream night.
Lysergic Acid Diethylamide,
Right?

A sleep pattern paisley
purple and green.
Faceless adversaries
heard, yet unseen.
A motionless panic,
unable to run.
Contorted, curled fingers,
now, isn't this fun.
The ups and downs of an
LSD ******.
Sara Kellie Sep 8
A flower lady stands guard at the overgrown garden of broken stone teeth.
  Where a million flakes of silver and white covers neatly laid out boxes of bones.
  Small, separated audiences quietly chatting to themselves, unaware that no one can hear.
  Where their cold grey words drip from frozen blue lips on a falling mist of old sorrow.
  The trees once in full bloom appear dead, reflecting all life around.
  Where the butterflies and ladybirds used to play, just as the bones in the boxes did yesterday.
Those in attendance file out one by one. They peer left and then right, realising the flower lady has gone.
And it's on their way home as the time ticks on by, the realisation that
one day,
they too,
must die.

Poetry by Kaydee.
Notes of Mortality.
Sara Kellie Aug 29
Take a pop,
Sling a shot,
Marble in a hole.
These are games
we used to play.
All strikers
scoring goals.

Now we're all
just goalkeepers
trying to save it all.
Hold on to things
we never had
without dropping
the ball.

Poetry by Kaydee.
How it goes
Sara Kellie Aug 29
Upon finding
I am burdened
with this
glorious purpose
came the stark
realisation
that I must
one day
triumph or fail
and with that,
I awoke.

Kaydee.
It was only a dream.
A dream about life.
Sara Kellie Aug 29
After I am gone,
I might just stay.
Not for long but for
a short while anyway.

I'll see you in the daytime
and call your name at night.
Switching on the t.v,
turning off the light.

The temperature drops
and it is getting colder.
I'll breathe into your ear
whilst touching your shoulder.

"It's me, I'm still here"
"Yes, you heard me right"
I'll sit on your bed and
watch you all night.

Now you know it's me,
It's time for me to go.
I never ever left you.
I wanted you to know

Poetry by Kaydee
A pre-message from
a post life haunting.
Sara Kellie Jul 22
The trees and the river
where we loved to go.
With tents and dried kindling,
the fire, its glow.

Make swings in the trees
with mud on our knees.
Completing scout tasks
and the badges we'd sew.
Make rafts that we'd sail
and the scout songs, regail.

We'd follow the river
to see it unfold.
Now none of us go there
now that we're old.

Poetry by Kaydee
I used to be a boy scout.
Sara Kellie Jul 22
Stay on point,
remain on path.
A childhood thought,
a fiery wrath.
Safe and sound
now all is well.
Do not recall
your childhood hell.
The bedroom door,
that creeping light.
Remain tight lipped,
too young to fight.
When Mum goes out
stay quiet, I'd say.
Don't make a noise,
he'll go away.
Face buried deep,
the pillows cloak.
You got away,
your brother's broke.
He struck again,
too late to cry.
We couldn't tell,
he'd only lie.

Kaydee.
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