Sheep, the lambs to the slaughter of false words,
that were breathed by the misgiving of
                                our forefathers weaknesses..

But what is a word, it is power, and spoken in
repetitive whistles the sheep follow.
                                  stripped of there freedom
for they follow a shepherd of false promises.

Sheep are for meant for
                                   two things
to put the wool over others eyes
and to feed the hunger of another...

this town looks more and more sad every day, perhaps it's my own demise setting into the skies.
the temperature of my body taking presence in the air.
the wind in my hair
but no heat in my bones.
i can feel my body shrinking out of my clothes.
she gave me the kiss of life but now it's been taken away.
so now i sit inside and watch as i decay.
these four walls surround me much like the chambers of my heart.
i've started to realize, only i rip myself apart.

music was my serenity, but now all i hear is lyrics of you.

Love is a suicide note
                        to the heart,
Paper cutting your emotions
                      till blood writes on it
           "I'm sorry but thoughts are cheap"

Love is a suicide note
                        to the mind
whispering sweet lullabies to sanity
                       till unthoughtful truths word
            "I'm sorry its not you, it's me,

Love is a suicide note,
and my love
          just hung itself on a tree of
reflection, static and lifeless..

I'm trying so hard to just keep swimming,
but more often than not, the Orcas visit me.
I'm more so floating, similar to the Velella
I keep going until I can't take anymore,
then end up washed up with the shore.

I don’t have many,
but if I could take some back,
I would never have gone to that party
and I would never have stopped writing back.

Late in the night these days,
when I think of what occurred back then,
how I said nothing about it,
I can’t help but cry.

The same reaction happens
when I remember how broken I felt inside
as I’d let myself get drunk and high.
Nearly every night for weeks.

The way I pushed you out,
the way I said goodbye,
the way I curled up in that room
and prayed to something that I’d die.

I didn’t like being sick.
I hated the emptiness.
The loneliness that consumed me.
I shouldn’t have reacted that way.

I just want to wake up tomorrow,
and forget these things.

they always said writing would help
and it does
but i'm not talking to you
i'm facing a piece of paper
which starts me off somewhere...
so dear dad,
how have you been?
still sober?
still raising her children?
still blaming all of your life's misfortunes on me?
how am i doing?
i'm doing alright
i get sad at night
when i'm alone
and i think of all the things you've said
and then everything is piled up in my head and i can't hear anything but your voice
your coy, manipulative, voice
if only you would have known how wrong you were
when you said i'd never make it in the real world
or find somebody to love me
or be happy
you see, i listen to the songs we used to listen to in the car while i drive
but at least i'm driving
and when i lay in my girlfriend's arms i get scared of how vulnerable i'm being
but at least i don't have a wall up
and i still hurt myself in more ways than one
but at least it's not as bad as it was
and i still see your face when i look in the mirror
but at least i have individuality and i'm molding myself to be better than you
and i still think about the night that i was assaulted in your home, and i know you heard me scream "NO, NO, NO"
but at least i still have respect for myself
and i still ponder on the thought of ending my life whenever i remember you handing me your pocket knife
but at least i'm still alive
and i still think about when you said i'd never have friends and i'd be all alone once i was dead
but at least i make a social effort
while you don't speak to your children
and granted i don't make an effort to speak to you
but it's because you are wrong
in every thing you say
and in every thing you do
you are wrong
in the way that you laid your hands on me
or in the way that you watched as so many others did
you are wrong
in that i am alone
because i am not
you are wrong
in that i'll never find happiness
because for once in my miserable life i realize when the sun is shining and the birds are chirping
you are wrong
when you say that i'm going to hell for loving
because right now i feel like i'm in heaven
you are wrong
when you say that no one will ever love me like you
because i now know that a father doesn't treat me like you
but at least...
i know you are wrong
and that is all of the gratification that i need to be done with you and this letter
so i sign this saying, you are wrong, but at least... i am strong.
- Maxine

life is a rubix's  cube,
some times its just
                a mess of colour...

And every so often
      they all match and
                     your content...

Poetry comes from the heart and soul
At times it is revealing
Laying bare inner most secrets
Others, it is concealing
Misleading the reader
To the truth of what is deep within
Poetry
It is truth
It is deceit
A mystery
Or just plain spoken
Poetry
Is whatever you want it to be
A song you hope captures the moment

Kelly Rose
© September 16, 2017

Clutch tight the tail of the sun.
Shed your tethers
and take that ride into the next.

Redeem the possibility
of limitless tomorrows.
Because today was meant to happen
and yesterdays were never meant
to weigh you down.

I'm more fragile than you think.
Like a chalkboard, I've begun to screech
because I can't take anymore chalk on me.
I may have a cold and smooth surface
but you see me as ugly until you start erasing
all the cramped up information that surrounds me.