Some might call it Karma
         And for some it could be Fate
          Or perhaps a Poison Apple
        that you didn't know you'd ate

             It could be I used Magic
           and I cast a few Dark Spells
          and perhaps a Poison Potion
          or a Demon Curse from Hell

          I might have asked a Genie
           in a bottle for his wishes
         or asked a nasty Witch to help
           with pretend Princess kisses

I could have summoned Moaning Ghouls
      who'll haunt you in your sleep
      or coaxed a Vampire from his lair
              to bite you really deep

           While all this could be true
              as Fairy Tales might seem
               but trust me when I say
            this nightmare's not a dream

              You're feeling really bad
              your life is such a mess
            I slaughtered you with ink
            that is laid upon your chest

             My words they still linger
         like the banshees in your head
           to haunt your every thought
         with the sweat that fills your bed

             Her names Poetic Justice
                her poison is my pen
          and you might be quite terrified
               while I am feeling Zen

           Of course you know that she
         is best when she's served cold
          to keep you all the company
            you need when you are old

        Now your life is crumbling down
         from wicked lies that past those lips

               It wasn't even a challenge
                      for these poetic
                        ....    fingertips

Cherie Nolan © All Rights Reserved 2016

I didn't know you have asked mother
when will my return be
I just heard it whispered by the cold wind
this morning when
I opened the door
I see the plants were wilting
I could have come if you've told me earlier
I could have let myself slip from the typing of these keys
for I know you'll be there in your favorite spot, sitting on that flat of an upturned stone, not moving, not waving,
just seeing me get on the bus
I will visit you stealthily like you did when you hand me that 5-peso coin and telling me not to show it to my siblings, my cousins, with that
smiling smile, hiding your eyes, hiding me from their eyes.
I can tell that I'm not your favorite. You don't play favorites, you said
I believed you.

I will visit you I promised the cold wind
But it told me that you already hid yourself
Sleeping below that flat of an upturned stone
I opened the door the cold wind was still there
I watered the plants they were wilting still
I, moving, waving but you already got on the bus
I saw the 5-peso coin in my palm earlier, now it was gone
I told my siblings, my cousins, about it, but they didn't believe me
Just a figment of the mind, they said, they smiled the smiling smile
I hid in your eyes while you in mine
I wanted to tell the cold wind:
The game had ended years ago
But you're still hiding, sleeping below
The upturned stone.

Its like a black hole
Engulfing your conscious
Slowly
without much Effort
******* life
as if it were unimportant
Depression sets in
as easy as a breeze
Flowing
Through the leaves
Shivering gently
Some falling to the ground
trampled
Beneath feet
Tears slide
No gush
as waterfalls do
Flooding fingers
(Whispers)
Only for awhile
Hopelessness sets in
Acceptance
Despair
Alert to reality
Of stolen memories
Taken like nothing
Leaving nothing
No longer
With
Only without

you cant keep shutting me out,
especially when your causing
pain to yourself.
it tears me to shreads, knowing
one day you may never wake
from the ongoing nightmare
you call life.
but i want to help you,
i need to help you because
we can all make it through
our nightmare.