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the dead bird Apr 2016
the shadows of others
which maliciously
dance
upon the walls
point and laugh
at my human body
that sits in my room
watching

they use their
shadows
fragments of their
true self
to shame and degrade
this person
my self
because I do not hide
my flaws
in darkness

the teasing
shades of human
criticize and belittle
myself and
the other few
who openly exist
as exactly
who we are

these shadows
fueled by
fear
spite
negativity
make every observation
of exposed flaws
I can only imagine
that the humans
who are casting these
shadows of hate
to be
biting their nails
and looking away
as their
shadow
becomes them

while I was
openly
exposing my true form
I began to hate
that of who I am
taking the shadows critique
to heart
when they are too weak
to expose
who they truly are

their shadows
came for me-
as did
shadows
of my own

instead of
hiding myself
becoming
the same as them
using my
insecurities
as fuel for hatred
to burden
upon others
when
the darkness began
to encroach upon me
it fueled
to make me hate myself
instead of others

now,
I have begun
to understand

my own shadow
will no longer
swallow me in darkness
as it is just
my own
embodiment of hatred
a version of myself
that isn't real at all

and the
shadows
from others
who spit fire
to try and burn
my flesh
will fail
as I now know
that if they exposed
their true self
as I have done
everybody
would be able
to see
that the faults
they accuse of
only exist
within them

and I
am just simply
me
I'm so sorry I haven't written in awhile I know none of you care but I finally got a job again and have been so overwhelmed I simply forgot to write. this piece is about others who critique and shame people for traits that they openly accept about theirself.
the dead bird Mar 2016
your hands
tediously twist
and pull
the rubix cube
not to impress
others
with your
speed of completion
but for your own
satisfaction
it will sit on your side table
for years
the mountain
you will never climb

before
your older brother
gave it to you
he rearranged
the stickers
an impossible puzzle
his prank
forgotten by him
amongst hundreds of others

your arms
scrub painstakingly
to wash away the
dark stain
on your
kitchen floor
which never fails
to catch your gaze

it has become
your routine
to spend an hour
every Sunday
cleaning
the persistent spot

curse it's existence
imagine life
without it
even though
it has become
a safety net for you
the only thing
you can count on
being there for you
when you arrive home

still,
your efforts
never cease

you will never discover
it was a fault
of the painters
a careless flaw
ignored
as they completed
the top coat

it does not matter
how much I try
to heal this
loneliness
or how many
different ways
I try to fill my
emptiness-
it is a bottomless
hole

swallows
everything thrown in
the hunger
is never satisfied
I do not think
it will ever
be full
do not think
I am able to feel whole

but
that doesn't stop me
from trying
the dead bird Mar 2016
in my dreams
something is always
chasing me
that something
changes
sometimes
a malicious ghost
sometimes
nothing definitive at all
just something
to run from

I spend most of my
dreams
coming up with plans
to escape
to hide
if I crawl inside the
computer
and become one
with the technology
the lady ghost
will never
find me here

until
she decides
to use
the computer
she always does

if I sneak into
this auditorium
maybe
I can blend in
and whatever
I am running from
will give up

climbing
over rows of unoccupied
seats
think I am
safe
until I look around
surrounded
by amish women
I am like
a bright red button
in a mound of dust

my attempts
always futile
I will
never succeed
never get away
it will
find me every time
but what will?

the dream
changes
as soon
as I am found
my eyes
open
before I can ask
why

five years
dreaming
of constant pursuit
it's no wonder
my
waking life
is filled
with exhaustion

when I dreamt
of an armed man
chasing me
through fields of wild grass
I turned on him
grabbed
the gun
and shot

one
two
three
still trying
to grab me
hundreds
of bullets
pierce his
dreamt up flesh
and he does not stop

I've been told
in these dreams
instead of
running
to ask
what they want
why am I
being pursued

I dare you to try
my dreams are nightmares
if I ease my flight
for a second
the darkness
will consume me
the dead bird Mar 2016
the garden holds
an aromarous display
of flowers
sprouts of tulips
with their
caressed petals
bringing life
to the dirt they were
grown from

all planted
with a purpose
someone wanted
to see them bloom
wanted to see all
but the dandelion
the pesky
****

I am the dandelion
plucked
by the child's hands
given a purpose
for I sprouted without one

here, mama
look, I brought you
a flower
I thought it was
just as pretty
as you!

smacked
to the ground
"youre saying
I'm as ugly
as that hideous
****?"

the one
that never goes
away
the one
that shows up
when you want it the least
stealing
your sunshine
stealing
nutrients
from the tulips
and roses

in the garbage
with an old
banana peel
and empty containers
of yourt
I hear the child
cry

I am sorry
to only be a burden
I am sorry
I could not impress
your mother
I am sure I will be
one of many
unsatisfactory
gifts

I did not ask to be here
a mistake
a pest
never appreciated
only causing
trouble

I am the dandelion
the child is me
won't you let me
grow
freely
growl I haven't been writing as much why why why
the dead bird Mar 2016
the dust
that collects underneath my
bed
flakes of old
skin
are more myself
than I am

the person I was
when I was seven
is not me
nor
the person I was
on my fourteenth birthday
the person I was
yesterday
is not
the person I am
in this moment

the cells
the building blocks
of this body that carries me
are constantly
changing
they die
and entirely new ones
take place

how can I say
I am the same
person
that I was at fourteen
when every particle
of myself
is completely different

what is it that has
kept me the same
person
throughout my regeneration
is it my consciousness
is this my soul

I am a tree
grown from just a seed
every year
my leaves
shrivel up and die
and every year
I grow
brand new ones

it is still the same
tree
because it's trunk
remains the same

I am still the same
me
because my consciousness
remains the same

after a tree
is cut down
it does not disappear
it's trunk
remains

smaller,
yes
but still there
now a stump

if I am still myself
after my body
changes every molecule
of my prior self
this begs the question
will my consciousness
remain
after this body has died

if
I
am not limited
to a specific
chemical makeup-
able to transcend
different bodies-
does that mean
I will transcend
this
life
as well
not that I believe in an afterlife or reincarnation, just a theory I was thinking about
the dead bird Mar 2016
the favorite stuffed animal
from a now-grown child
lies
in a pile of mud
soaked through with rain
after one of the dogs got ahold of it
and forgot
to bring it back inside

the baby bird makes a running
leap
and tries to lift her wings
to surprise her mother
with the gift of flight
before she comes home with dinner
total failure
lying fifteen feet
from her nest
with a broken wing
and a voice thats too small
her mother will never
notice
the baby bird will decompose
and become one
with the earth

the blank journal
which was purchased
over a year ago
lies
collecting dust
under piles of
never-to-be-used school supplies
hopes of confessions
or doodles
or even notes
are lost
as it has been forgotten
no one even
remembers
that it exists at all

everything
is exactly the same
as it's always been
the dead bird Mar 2016
if I told you all of the
horrible things I've done
would you still be nice to me
would anyone

if everyone in the entire world
told me all of the
horrible things they've ever done
would there be a single person
left
that I still liked

are we all just
lying to others
and ourselves
painting on our fake
masks
everyday
careful
yours is peeling off
and I don't like what I see

please **** me
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