Who has the right
To stand and stare
Snarl at others
With piercing glares,
Who has the right
To cast a stone
Place themselves on
Pedestal's or
High on a throne?

For you and I
We cannot judge,
Neither of us
Are clear of mud
We make mistakes
We all grow old,
Fight to survive
The bitter cold;

Now. I'll ask again
But this time be true

One day those stones
May cast at you



© Karen L Hamilton, 2012

I packed my bags and left a note, I'm headed for the moon. With luck tucked in my pocket, I'm bound to get there soon.

I've heard the moon was made of cheese, not the stinky kind. If there is a man up there, I won't leave him behind.

I know the sun could be a problem, my rockets old with rust. So I'll go at night instead, singing "to the moon or bust."

I have a plan you mustn't worry, It won't fall apart. With fairy dust and this old rocket, hope fills my once cracked heart.

I'm 15.
I'm 15 and I'm an alcoholic.
I'm 15 and I've been smoking cigarettes for
a year.
I'm 15 and I've been with more boys then I can count on one hand.
I'm 15 and my preexisting anxiety and depression are becoming too much for me.
I'm 15 and I don't know if I can do this anymore.
I'm 15 and I don't want to be 15.
I'm 15 and I want to be 6.
I want to be 6 when I swore I'd never touch a cigarette in my life.
I want to be 6 when I didn't even know what anxiety was.
I want to be 6 but I'm not.
I'm 15.
I'm 15 and I want to be 28.
I want to be 28 with a man who appreciates my flaws and loves me no matter what.
I want to be 28 drinking a glass of wine or two at dinner, but no more.
I want to be 28 but I'm not.
I'm 15.
I'm 15 and I'm scared.
I'm 15 and I'm scared because I'll never be 6 again, and I'm scared that I might not make it 28.
I'm 15 and I don't want to be 15.
I'm 15 and I want to be.

I want to mark my skin
like the ever-stained hem of the sleeves
that lick my knuckles like the sea foam
of a southern beach.

I want each pore to be filled
with the same heaviness that each streak
of watered-down mascara holds
as it lingers on the ends of my worn-out shirt sleeves.

Every line must mirror the soul
trapped in the blackened rivers
that forever run parallel to each other.

The curves crafted by the needle
will sway with same helium
he fills my chest with;

the crosses and dots will pack
the kisses he planted tenderly on my lips.

My first tattoo must be more than ink,
it must be heart.

I don't belong to anyone
I belong to the earth and the skies
And leap year's missing days
I belong to storms and thunders growl
To the stars and the moon
And broken birds' still beating hearts
I am a child of light and shadow
I belong to nothing and no one
I will never belong to them
I will never belong at all

The incessant turning of cogs in
an instrument ran by heart
Shambles.
Stoic, admonishing words
frolicking about as frail, free-floating petals.
Beneath it all the clamorous tug gibing with the
Very voices you kissed me with.
Cold, but
unwinding the taut flesh.

I stayed
            though.

By your darkest demons, caressing with
Silk comfort.
Imbuing them with a dancing light lull:
your Reign of Melody.

To projectile your serenading strums,
To stretch out your fingers jangling,
on all the metal of the strings;
Gnashing the ivory saws of your teeth
you severed my bones.

I’ve become your music to trifle
I’ve become your naive, small bell boy.
“We’re not two, but one” you’d say. When
You knew all along, this song steered and dwindled
into paleness.

Sour hush.

I think we were perfect
- too perfect.
That's why when we
Exploded,
you left me on earth
to dance with the stars.

Beneath yours
My love lies
I
Don't want
The fire that rips
Open the schism
But
The water that feeds
Souls keeping us
Alive
Our love
Lush