Place one hand on my shoulder
and guide my head under
You welcomed me to the world
so let me drown at your fault
Smile at me faintly as the waves
ripple over my eyes and fill my lungs
Like a babe being baptised
you hold the back of my skull
Now, not to keep me from drowning
but to show me your gentle touch
As my body erupts in panic, I flail
I feel your love
And for the slights you caused
I feel your sorrow
But I am too far gone, no longer
needing your hands to keep me afloat
Or to hold me under

Crosses still hang
as remnants of the past
Reminders of old traditions.
Only few years have gone,
but /decades/ Says her heart.

The life they gave grows older,
No longer sewn to the Mother.
The hope and faith in their eyes
dimmed in her years past,
So while the crosses still hang
It seems they’ve lost all meaning
For the Mother and their beliefs
died with her youth.

The flash reveals a ghost.
She stands in the present,
a figure from the past.
You can feel the future inside of her
yearning to be the now.
But it is not his time just yet.

Hand in hand,
tears from two form a river
The world stills in mourning as the little girl dies.

He tries to loosen his grip,
but her hold remains.

The boy can only watch as she starts to fall
Her body descending in the waves.
Finally as she lets go,
he tightens his hold
and struggles to keep her afloat.

Sinking under,
she gently whispers
“They mourn for you
And the youth I stole.”

i strip my skin, to show you my flesh. and i am met with tears and apologies muffled by your sobbing. i would cry with you, comfort you, tell you how good of a person you are. but now, my scars revealed again, i point at you shamelessly and i tell you it’s your fault. where sympathy and pity was, i only hold resentment. maybe in a few years i will have clarity, a new perspective, and i will feel guilty for how i was, but not now. you complain about your burdens and i take them on. the weight of it all.
everyday i feel it, my body, dropping a little lower. my feet once stable, now cramping under the pressure. and so i cut myself open and i tell you of my bruised body, but still. you can only cry and look at me, without ever doing anything.

I am desperate for love
and needy for attention
To live is to love.
But in this body, I can do nothing
I can only wait.
Until my skin feels right,
and my limbs no longer loose.
When outside matches within,
maybe then, I can finally find love.