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Chamilla Colton Sep 2018
Air.
Earth.
Home.
Laundry soap.
Thin aura of cleaning supplies.
Faint stench of the fancy life.
Of a higher power.
Of a higher division in the levels of Society.
Distant expenses of cologne and purfume.
But mostly the aura of cleaning supplies.
With a paranoid soul,
I've been staring for hours and hours out of my peephole,
Where beholds a pair of secretive glowing eyes made of gold,
With it being that of a sinister little troll that's had my paranoia at tenfold,
I feel as my whole mind, here, begins to fold and nearly implode,
With my emotions no longer being able to go with the flow,
I decide to walk away, undress, and then snort a line of coke,
Followed by taking a hit of **** while I put on my bulletproof vest,
Oh, and yes!–surely if it's a fight that these little demons want to see,
Then it'll be a fight that I'll bring outside where I'll make them all regret ever trying to mess with me,
For no longer will I hide and allow them to whisper to me from my lone tree,
No!–For I will tell them all "I'll no longer be the one to carry out their evil little deeds",
And I will tell them that statement with a knife while rushing at their golden-eyed chief,
You know, just so there's no question of my authority,
Though, with a few steps outside, I see no pair of golden eyes within my vicinity,
Oh, and with "Such lies and deceit!" being the words that I have just screamed,
I hear a whisper whispering to me (as it's whispering from my only tree)
Where I decide to scream, "Oh, and you will not be making a mockery of me!",
Though, with nothing but a chuckle (as I know this voice is chuckling at me)
I pick up an apple and throw it directly at my lonely little tree,
There!–hearing with a loud screech and seeing a shadowy creature drop beneath,
It's with the sight of a hundred pairs of eyes lighting up my scenery,
And surely with my paranoia spiked to the highest degree,
I begin to wonder is this all in my mind? Though, I decide to entrust in my feet,
Where I run, and see this beast begin to chase after me,
I race towards my door, with it being "****** ******!" that I scream,
As it's with this peep hole, once again, and just like before consuming all that my eyes see,
I hear that whisper once more, hearing as that whisper turns into a roar,
And hearing as it tells me–like it's told me before,
That "Methamphetamine really isn't fun anymore"
Chamilla Colton May 2018
why is every love song less annoying and repetitive now that i've met you?
Chamilla Colton May 2018
accusation after accusation
about cheating and lying
is like the crossfire on a battlefield.
why is it that you and mom have to fight to communicate?
why is it that yelling to the point of a scratchy throat is your guys' goto to get a point across?
why does it always have to be a constant whirlwind of chaotic rounds of gunfire for you guys?

i don't know why you thought that abandoning us was the clearest thought in your clouded mind.
not just abandoning us for some other woman who was never worth the time,
but abandoning a wife who supported and loved you, for a woman who was less than a speck of dirt.
but also abandoning three kids who considered you as the other parent they no longer had, for a woman who couldn't see her own four kids because she would rather be including methamphetamines and other drugs in her life than her own offspring.

you abandoned us for a woman who made the fight for drugs, rather than the kids she gave life to.
there was a family you had left behind and kept waiting,
while you organized a mess of a life with someone else.

all i can say is how could you give up the life you built with us,
and damage it with her.
how could you make us flip our feelings for you?

i sat with my mother in front of the apartment you were staying at, at 10:45 after my shift at 10:00 at night.
waiting for you to take your dog because we aren't his caretakers.
yes, we loved him,
but that was your responsibility and we weren't going to take it anymore.

but as i go to knock on the window of your room because the door is too far away from your apartment number,
there are night owls of drug addicts peering through the window curtains.
but not answering the door.

i hate you so much when i should love you.
you were our parent when our father died.
but you left us the same way our father did.
the only difference is that you didn't die.

you left the same way he did because drugs stripped you both from us.
only that you didn't die.
not physically anyway.
just mentally, you're dead to us.

once a drug addict, always a drug addict huh.
i guess this taught us never to trust so easily.
First off, just read at your own risk. I get this was severely personal and whatnot, but I can only really turn to poetry because it's the only way for me to get my feelings out without completely breaking down. I also understand that the internet is not my diary. But like I just said, poetry is the only thing I can turn to without having a meltdown. But I suppose this is just a little insight on what affect some people can have on your mentality. Sorry for the personal stuff. I've just gotten to the point of "I do not care if I expose you".
  May 2018 Chamilla Colton
CA Smith
Brick
        By
            Brick
A house is built
Hour
        By
            Hour
The house becomes a home
Day
        By
            Day
The home turns into memories
Year
        By
            Year
The memories turn into people
Century
        By
            Century
The people turn into stories
Story
        By
            Story
Stories turn into legends
Legend
        After
            Legend
History is changed
Piece
        By
            Piece
Lives are changed
Person
        By
            Person
Love is spread
One Love
        After
            Another
Bricks are purchased
That build houses
That turn into homes
That create memories
That turn into people
That turn into stories
That turn into legends
That change history
And it all started with
Just. One. Brick.
Sometimes it's tough when you are just laying bricks to see the end picture, but it makes a difference in the end! It can be so easy at times to feel like we aren't doing enough to help others or to grow ourselves, but one ripple affects the entire pond.
  May 2018 Chamilla Colton
CAM
It's kind of weird to think.
About how people change.
But it's not generally because of themselves.
Unless they mean it to be.

People around you.
Input pieces of their souls
Into everyone around you.
Every day.

Isn't it weird to think about?
Maybe you saw his fingers tapping,
Or her biting her lip,
Or them saying something that made you laugh.

And then a few weeks later,
You find yourself doing the same thing.

People input pieces of their souls
Into everything they do.
In an English essay, you can hear their voice,
In the way they write.
If you listen hard enough.

If you read the things I write.
You can tell little things about me.
Like the fact that I see the good in people,
And the fact that I'm young and in school.

Or the fact that the characters I write about
They exist everywhere in my mind.
My friends are often in my words,
Speaking through everything I say.

My words shape who I've become,
And the things I do become less fun,
Until you realize your soul is spreading too,
When you see someone reading a poem.

When you see someone covering their face with their hair,
Or reading the book you just read.
When you see someone who's singing classic rock,
Looking at you once again.

If you see someone copying your stride,
Or the way you hold your bags.
Or the way you mess with your fingers as you're nervous.
Just know it's not you who's inside.

We're all different people,
Sharing our souls,
Not knowing exactly where they're going,
Not at all.

Yet it's not hard to tell who someone is.
From the pieces of soul you find.
Chamilla Colton Mar 2018
when did MY education
become more important than supporting those who died.
from those who took a bullet.
and lost their lives
to save others.

when did MY education
become more important than doing something about gun violence.
from anyone who died
for those
who lived.

when did MY education
become more important than the real issues
that cause this whirlwind of a country
to fall apart at its own feet.

when did MY education
start to become more important
than checking more carefully for those who hold barrels against someone's head
and pull the ******* trigger.

MY education is not about if i know how to solve ***** formula's
but knowing the difference between logic and knowledge
between right and wrong
between peace and war.

so
instead of understanding the complete differences between peace and war
this country uses war to claim it's for peace.
this country confuses two polar opposites to somehow be useful for the other.
this country confuses right and wrong with whatever kind of leader it has.

violence is sorely mistaken as a solution for peace.

there is no logic.
there is no knowledge.
there is only lack of education
to the violence we create
as a nation.
Late night rants are the best, huh?
But if this offends anyone, don't read it. Don't waste your time.
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