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 Dec 2013 Erica M
Fish The Pig
I looked into my shadow,
black with such ignorant purity,
yet with the good judgement
I am void of
to shout out
"Don't look at the mirror!
Don't you dare even glance!"
Why not? I'd ask,
foolishly looking into
the reflective glass,
eyeing the pink,
stain on society that is me.
Cringing at the image that displeases me so,
the image that has caused the scars on my wrists.
the image that haunts my days
and steals away my nights.

it hurts.

"Because the mirror is a liar"
My shadow replied.
"Because the mirror is a monster,
what you see there is not you,
what you see there is pain.
Look closer,
for that slight warp in the mirror
that gives you a slant to your mouth
is not a malfunction of manufacture-
but of the mind,
carefully crafted
and polished
by society
that you are not good enough,
that you are something you should be ashamed of
until you hand them those so easily torn papers
you've spent so long working for
so you can be chiseled down to nothing
and pumped with plastic
to satisfy a twisted need
for standardization.
That is why you don't look in that mirror.
Because you will not see yourself,
you will see a false projection
of everything you've been told
is not okay."

I tore my eyes away from the mirror-
And for a moment.
just for a moment.
I believed that I was pretty.
 Dec 2013 Erica M
Fish The Pig
Tick Tock goes the clock,
to play my final ballad.

Tick Tock goes the clock,
a simple rhythm,
to seal my tomb.

Tick Tock goes the clock,
long after my heart has stopped.
 Nov 2013 Erica M
We held our space
And as the darkness grew brighter,
We spoke of the untouched tomorrow
Down in the nights' palms
We danced in the curves of our skin
Making our own wonderland
And We pulled each other in
And as the darkness grew,
We fell deeper into the eyes
The whispers and the smiles
Fell more for each other
As the darkness grew and the space vanished
 Oct 2013 Erica M
 Oct 2013 Erica M
Christmas Wish Lists
Littering the beautiful cloudless sky
Where Santa and his reindeer will soon fill the gaps between the stars
And every candle will remember the generations gone

I'm scared to make my list this year
For I want things that I shouldn't.
And I'm scared to open the door.
So Santa, if you read this.
You won't need to land on my roof.
Because life is the best gift.
 Oct 2013 Erica M
Deborah Lin
The other day, I accidentally
spilled moonlight on the shadows
where you used to sleep.
I almost cleaned it up
until I realized it didn’t matter anymore.

I told the clouds they were not
welcome to shed tears
over your side of the bed,
that the rain had to drown me too.

I asked the sunset if
it ever missed the sun,
if vermillion meant farewell,
if the dusky purples hurt
when they were pressed,
if the coming darkness
felt as natural and as effortless
as it looked.

And when the night finally fell
in black oblivion
I found the light you left
in the corners of the room,
under the pillow,
in the spaces between my fingers.
I found it everywhere in the darkness
and nowhere in the daylight
and I hate you for that –

Which is why I started
making room for the moon in my bed
even though he bleaches the sheets.
And I let the clouds lay down their burden
gently, gently over your pillow
in place of my own.
I stopped asking the sunset questions
that I couldn’t answer
and started digging my hands
into the gracefulness of the sky and the ocean and
everything in between.
There are lot of me's for me to be
There are good me's and bad me's, happy and sad me's
But people want me to be happy me
For she's the best me to be
But happy me is tired, and doesn't want to play
She wants to sleep, stay in today
Sad me comes out to play
The me that likes it to rain all day
But they don't like that me they push her away
And she goes into hiding for another day
Stupid me comes out quite a lot
A me who's naïve when she aught not
Angry me wants to scream and to fight
Once again another me that's not right
Confused me begs to understand
Wondering if this was all planned
But there is also another me
The most me-e-est me a me could be
But that me must be kept out of sight
For like all the other me that me is not right
So happy me comes out everyones long time friend
She smiles and laughs but it's only pretend
She's still tired, still doesn't want to play
But she comes out anyway
It's perfect! Me to a 'T'
Or perhaps, maybe not
And we'll just let it be.
 Sep 2013 Erica M
my mother taught me the alphabet and 2 + 2
(but everything always adds up to you)

my father taught me to be patient & kind
(but it's you that brings balance to my mind)

my brothers taught me how to be tough
(but you still tell me daily that i am enough)

my high school government teacher taught me to be bold
(but in you i find my courage, given your hand to hold)

the birds in the sky taught me how to sing
(but it's you who hides me under your wing)

all of my heartbreaks taught me how to write
(but you gave new meaning to sleepless nights)

- m.f.
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