Why does the pain shock you?
You asked for this heartbreak

You begged for it with your eyes
with your hands
with your life
You opened the door when it knocked
You let it in
You lent it your ear when it spoke
You hugged its insecurities away
You healed it scars
You made it feel wanted
You made it stronger

You knew it was going to break you

So why does the pain shock you?
You asked for this heartbreak

I may not be pretty
Brave, skinny or witty
My teeth will never be straight

My hair, yes, it's curly
And my style's... not that girly
Plus I'm sorry I often run late

I may not be neat
But I sure love to eat
And I often think that I know best

My nails are chewed
And my humour's quite rude
Plus I know my cooking's a mess

I may not be refined
But I'm loving, and kind
Who cares if I have lots of flaws

I'm perfect for you
You're perfect for me too
And no matter what, I'm yours

shhh
do you hear that?
muffled voices and my own thoughts
it cuts through my mind like a knife
honestly anything would hurt less than the quiet.

guns locking and loading
ready to fire
without my consent
yet the quiet is still more deadly.

I, the poet wears many hats to adorn self at any given time.

Musician, orchestrating with instrument of pen, expressive words upon page.

Artist, painting with beautiful colorful jargon, to open eyes and hearts inside grace.

Gardener, planting seeds of thoughts for them to bloom inside readers mind.

Chief, dishing out many a line, filled with delicious words to tantalize reader.

Landscaper, constructing scenery as beautiful as a mountain, or deep as an ocean.

Sculptor, molding craft of words sometimes soft and light, other times sharp as steel.

Teacher, enlightening one with information to open their consciousness if they choose.

Sailor, guiding ship-like eyes across a sea of words to move into calm waters for peace.

Laborer, picking just the right phase, to get a fresh new perspective inside a poem.

Singer, using one's rhythmic voice to echo inside vibrations of a sonnet that goes viral.

Doctor,  becoming a wordologist aiding the reader to receive insight to help them heal.

Secretary, to self who writes and transcribes many an ode so reader and poet has peace.

I, poet has a wardrobe quite extensive to pull from, on a creative journey of sharing.

StarBG © 2017

I made a bed of wrong turns and bad choices
  & blankets of regrets and sorrows
I cry myself to sleep in this livid torment
  & dream whilst never awaking...

Silence in my ears
Ashes in my mouth
Hope has flown away
I stare at plaster walls

The Devil is no Prince of Hell,
nor is he the Prince of Darkness.
The Devil is the same as you and I.

He shares the same fate
as those who have turned away from God.

He is to be tortured just like the others.
He is to be cast into Hell's lake of fire.

Hell isn't the domain of Satan,
it's his prison.

this poem has no title
for it to lean on
so there is no telling
the direction it goes

no title to hinder
or hold it back
all of its meaning
is in all that it says

this poem has no title
to hold it in place
it can only rely
on the rhymes that it makes

whether they're good
or whether they're bad
this poem has no title
to hold its hand

this poem has no title
to weigh it down
which forces a read
to find what it's about

and what it's about
you may not find
until you have reached
the very last line