That the days shard through
Memory,
Emapthic broken glass,
Lethargic night
Emptied wine cup
Droplets like shunned moons,
The poem remains
And there metaphorically,
So does all the world.
Some days I do not
want to wake up
the day just seems darker somehow
There is no particular reason
I am feeling down
I just am...

I have been trying to come up
with some explanation and cannot
maybe I am just tired
maybe I am PMSing
maybe I just need to get some

Whatever the reason
It is not like I can just snap
my fingers and get it over it
Like some people close
to me have suggested

What I really need
is someone to pull me
into their computer out there
and hug me and don't let me go
I want to stay for a bit with you
until I am not feeling so blue
My name is Elizabeth,
and you think you know me.
You've seen me every day,
since the year I turned three.

I am quiet, and reserved,
and smarter than most,
but my quiet demeanor,
turns me into a ghost.

I'm easily forgotten,
with all the ruckus and noise.
The laughing and shouting,
from the other girls and boys.

If I could speak up,
I'd tell you the truth.
I'd tell you he's lying,
about how I got this bruise.

If I wasn't so afraid,
to tell you my side,
then maybe you'd help me,
if you knew that he lied.

He says it's my fault,
that he has to teach me like this,
but I know better now,
that you don't teach with fists.

He teaches mommy too,
and she's afraid just like me,
but she still hides the marks,
so that no one will see.

I would love to make friends,
to run, laugh, and play.
But all the kids tease me,
for acting this way.

Maybe if you taught words,
like neglect, and abuse.
Then I'd know it was wrong,
and wouldn't be so confused.

But today I'll stay quiet,
just like mommy said.
Even though she was crying,
and her eyes were all red.

Daddy tells us he loves us,
that we're his princess, and queen.
But the brown bottle stuff,
makes him angry and mean.

Maybe if I took the brown bottle,
and poured it down the sink.
Then daddy would be happy,
and be able to think.

It won't hurt to try,
I'll do it after school.
Then maybe daddy can love us,
without being so cruel.

My name is Elizabeth,
and I stay out of sight.
I'm too scared to tell you,
but if you asked me, I might.
It's easy if I don't think
don't blink and
just drink myself into a stupor
absolutely super.

Too many daybreaks
headaches
heartaches and
it all takes its toll.

If I stay sober long enough
I can get through this
feeling of feeling rough
and do
proper stuff,
if I tough it out, say no
to one more go
on the roundabout
I can get straight.

But the bottle takes a hold of me
and there goes my sobriety
until the next time I am
sick with the anxiety of
not fitting into society.

It's so easy if I don't think.
And filled it with your fatal presences,
The best a Texas Hill Country
Morning when the bluebonnets wept
While our bodies entwined
A sparrows song,
Your eyes enveloped the light
Of first day and I swear I could
See through Heaven's eyes,
When we shattered the noctirnal
And stroked the suns burn
Merely with unified cravings,
The deer crossed an unspeakable
Verse under the parting night,
I collapse in fatal gratitude
Taking willingly
The thorn of your memory;
Stuck intimately with the rising sun
And born of the wound
Was filled a cup
Encompassing the four things
Love:
Pain which your lips
Promised never to cause me :
Passion which endured as much as time
Swallows the years and closes the
Mouth of the things we remember:
Memory which sustains my soul and erodes my body:
Loyalty to the deceit that in some
Place when we were as perfect frames
In Time's womb
Eternal and everlasting
Where I pray as a Pagan
To return where no one can,
Still my cup empties with gratitude
And overflows tears I cannot
Contain within the spherical
Shell of your precision,
Cut deeply;
And with a despairing gratefulness
my cup runneth over.
I found a lingering thought
you left behind . . .
      dried blood , sinews and
a bottle of unkempt time .

Though they tried to stamp you out . . . Atomic has an edge when it comes to hot fallout .

They may have pound and beat the desk . . . but they take their place with all the rest .

Still you live beyond the glass and stone . . . everytime someone sings one of your songs .

The rose wood rose up in flames . The steel wires popped from the strain .

And all in silence watched refrained . . . as another star dimned and left us pained .
There I stood,
Alone as ever,
Hated because I chose and let go,
I wanted,
So I let the cadence go
So I could change my tune
And new witnesses testified
And the new ME was born.

I had to let em go.
They loved me tben
And hate me now.
I gave tbem all they could handle,
And tbere at the edge I jumped
And became ME,
WHERE NO ONE FROM THE PAST
COULD SEE ME,
OVER THE EDGE AND TO A DEATH
AND REBIRTH,
such is tbe true change.
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