You entered my life in a blink of an eye.
One moment you weren't there the next you were.
How was I know to know what you would become, that you would become my prince, my knight in shining armor?
It started so innocently and grew into something so much more.
A few years went by and you made me your queen. Oh how lucky I was.
You always try to protect me from the evils of the world. You hold me in your strong arms and tell me you have me and that everything will be alright that I just need to be strong.
There in lies the problem, I am not as strong as you. I never will be. I try and try but I do not a have a strong shield like you. So I count on you my knight probably more than I should to help shield me.
I am fragile. Easily broken, but you , you always put back the pieces  when I break apart. My love, my life ,my knight, my KING! For that I will always love you. Love your fragile queen

Two beautiful angels sent into my life the Lord chose me to be their mother in this world.
Both of them with eyes like oceans of blue
They have my heart wrapped around their little fingers
How did I become so blessed? I ask this everyday
I truly am grateful for these two children that I get to watch grow everyday.
Please don't grow up and runaway.
Stay close to your mother and continue your blessed presence in my life.
I love you with all of my heart my dears.
In this life I hope you never have any fears
I want you to know you both are my heart and my life without you I would crumble
Forever and always I will love you my sweethearts to the end of time

There was a time where I was sick a lot
clinging to the pains in my stomach
only there because my heart made it so.
My mind was my own demise
and the sunken chest I hid inside
caged all the resentment
I spend years trying to hide.
And each and every time a surgery came
I hoped that maybe I would go under
and see my future more clearly
or go under and never come up for air again.
But I always woke up-
I didn't dream anything
it was the most sound sleep I've ever gotten.
Each time was better than the last
and even though when I awoke
the sickness plagued my body
until I could not breathe between the aches
I was alive each and every time.
See, hard drugs never did anything for me
neither did prescription medication
but really what's the difference between the two?
The only thing that made me feel stronger
was the alcohol bleeding through my veins
as if every single secret escaped my body
just in one night.
Until I learned the sickness that came after
was worse than the hospital stays
and the pills that were supposed to take the pain away.
The aftermath was deadly-
I felt it all in my mentality and found a safe haven
in the misplaced anguish
until it turned against me.
I had to live again.
Pushing through with every ounce of strength
that I could possibly muster
because dying sounded a lot worse
than living with this beating heart
reminding me the vices I cling to
are only temporary and so is this pain .
The ache in my stomach passed,
just like after the surgeries
but this time I didn't get to go home
I was already there.
There is no place to run away from this-
no way out of the dark tunnel you find yourself in
after the anesthesia diminishes your clarity.
It will always be there and it will pass
and your body will soon feel like yours again.
These arms that carry you to the backseat of the car
will still be there to carry you home-
Just wait.

When  was young, my first word was "Momma"
because I was always reaching out for someone who was never there.
Always a little bit too infatuated with her occupation
and her husband was always too in love with the bottle
maybe that's why my second word was "doggie" instead of "daddy"
because a dog brought me more emotional security-
spent too much time trying to drink away the long work hours
and not enough time trying not to break our spirits
like the empty miller lite bottles thrown at walls and faces-
When I was seven, I first discovered ***.
A man placed his hands where he shouldn't have
and then a year later a girl did the same thing
so by nine I was feeling the urge to fornicate with everything
because I thought that intimacy was normalcy
and I could give myself to anyone who would take me.
But I was nine, so no one would take me-
and I was terrified of any arms that tried to hold me,
and I thank someone, whoever is out there, for that everyday.
By thirteen the crosses I bared began crawling their way
out of my spine and into my lungs making it hard to speak
and then into the back of my mind so I couldn't think
no more denial, or lost memory, I saw it all so ******* clearly-
The hands that turned me futile tried to end my life once
but they used me as a host
tried to **** whatever was making me sad
a bottle of vicodin down the hatch to drown the memories
that I could never ******* get away from-
Darkness.
When I was fourteen my savior became poisoned by circumstance
the edge of the hands I used to grip when I was young
turned cold and the face I had grown to admire looked sickly.
These crosses I bared didn't win, but they didn't lose.
They continued demanding refuge
and the memories kept demanding to be heard
and the denial of my grandma having cancer grew stronger-
then he moved in.
And I'm not talking about grief, although the names sound similar.
I was weak.
Prone to the demons I had been hiding-
had to face the man that took away my sanity, my sexuality
every single ******* day.
So these razor blades became a paintbrush and my body the canvas
and every time I took it to my skin I would call it a masterpiece.
At some point, around the time my mom starting listening
she heard me crying out to the demons I spent my days fighting-
Around that same time my grandmother died.
So my weakness became strength and her strength withered
and she tried to drown her pain in a bottle of morphine.
9:25 am. "ring" "ring" "ring"
hello? mom? where are you? A mental hospital?
The words "I could've tried harder" keep repeating in my mind
and kept taunting and nagging at my skin
telling me to paint one more ******* time
to make something so beautiful out of all of this ******* mess-
So I picked up a pen again. Started writing.
I was about 17 when things started getting better,
met a boy who smiled at me like I was ******* God
and found hope in the curve of his spine and the whites of his eyes.
But I wasn't looking for an escape again
and I knew that's just what he would be.
Falling victim to the hands that have seen better days
and the eyes that only needed someone to say,
"I am here for you." something I didn't want to lose.
Now I'm almost 20 and these recollections feel just like stories-
the control they once had over my mind has diminished
somewhere between the bottle masking my pain
and the friends who listened when I spoke
I ended up seeing the sunshine for the very first time
and ******* it was beautiful.

I fall so deep into the darkness I can't find my way out
I look for the light but it is no where to be found, it has escaped from me again.
Why does it hide from me? Why does it run?
I cry, I pray, I do everything I can just hoping for the light to enter back into my life.
Where is it?
I listen to what I am supposed to do and I do it yet it still evades me. Why?
Then one day I think I see it. Peeking over the horizon. Can it be true?
It is! It is! It's the light! Slowly it enters back into my life lighting up everything the way it's supposed to be.
I am happy the way I'm supposed to be
The darkness is gone for now but it will return one day
Until that day I will bask in the light and enjoy it
I am happy

Most likely you’re not invisible,
To me,
I see you,
But you stand ugly,
And a demon inside winks at me,
True,
I cannot see your real struggles,
But I confess to knowing,
The possible hells,
And not moving,
To touch you.
I blind my own eyes,
To your humanity,
Choosing to see you,
As gray upon gray,
And run towards brighter colors,
Forgetting that love,
Will always rainbow.
I can’t love everyone,
I don’t have the strength to carry you,
And I’m afraid you won’t give back,
To me,
But make me gray upon gray,
Robbing me of joy.
Honestly,
I would never turn you away,
If you walked toward me.
It doesn’t take courage,
For me to return a smile,
But to stand up,
Confident that my hues won’t bleed away,
If I come to sit with you,
And come,
Unasked for,
With my soul in hand,
Is courage.

I just clicked the "shuffle" button on the main page, for the first time,
Did y'all know that was there?
Honestly,  it saddened me because all the poems I read only had, on average, about two or three likes and most of them were absolutely amazing!
So, I went to these unknown poets pages and got even sadder, hardly any followers either!  
It's a shame that with all the readers,  poets and writers alike that any poet would go unnoticed.

This is my challenge for you...  It's not to write any poems...
Click the shuffle button! Read the poems, like them, share them, add them,  everything!  

Help the new and upcoming poets get the recognition and feedback they deserve for their writing!  

*Challenge:
1. Click shuffle
2. Read Poems
3. Like and Comment
4. Repeat Ten Times