People are like ducks
Even when their brains are small they quack

I have this dream that I'm a failed 1940's housewife.
And I can't get this image out of my mind.

I swear I left the iron on,
The sink is overflowing,
The roast it burning,
The twins are crying,
The washing machine is pouring out suds.
And my husband gets home....
It's a mess.

He tries to put me in my place,
Apparently I must be submissive.
He tries to **** me in the kitchen
To prove his possession of me.
I yell and scream and
When he doesn't stop....
The knives were just.....
Too close to my end of the counter.

My lawyer pleads insanity.
I just plead.

You don't have to prove yourself
To anyone
You don't have to prove yourself
Just to be accepted into a group
Or into what others think
You should be
The Beauty about life is you have your own
You decide what to do with it
You can be whoever you want
You can do whatever you want
But please  don't listen to them
Don't be what they expect
Don't try to make
Yourself fit into their
Box of expectations of who you need to be
Please just be you and not them

~Katt

do you ever get in one of those moods where you just want to punch holes in the walls to match the sizes of the ones in your chest and you want to scream until your vocal chords burn as intensely as your longing to be anywhere but here and your eyes will not stop allowing your emotions to flow from your tear ducts and you are so broken and you cannot seem to fix yourself no matter how hard you try yet you have to just shove the tightness in your throat away and pretend like you are okay and I just don’t know how to do this anymore

I am a poet
Sitted under the tree that breeze life
Grew inspirations
That impregnate words
That birth lines
The daughter of verses
On a floating leaf of pages

I am a poet
That listen to the beautiful paradox of pens
I climbed trees to the paragon of perfection
I'm the rhythm of the heart
Blossom of attraction
And a song of lovers' reaction

I am a poet
A painter
That can't draw
A straight line
A dancer
Stepping on toes
With a nervous shake

I am a poet
A voice of change
Advocating for peace
A face of progress
Crying for love
I act like a politician
With no lies
And no silver tongue
I stand as speakhng dumb
Saying no to corruption

I am a poet
That write for glory of the printed ink
To climb the pyramid
And look down to find out what you know
I pen for the living and the dead
The spirits in the wind
To the open road ahead
To the ghosts who sing joyfully for the living

I am a poet
Who happily suffer
For what I love doing
A poet who put himself through misery
For poetry

It's unfortunate
That you had to die
Even more so
Because it was me who
Had held the knife

******, you cried
******, so perfect
The way you screamed
When your stomach
Was exposed

Your heart was racing
In a fear unspoken
Your breathing was slim,
For your lungs would not open

Blood paints the walls
And I take a taste
Someday maybe I
Will share the same fate
Welcoming death's
Eternal embrace