Whether a comma, or colon:
Punctuation slows my rolling
I need no period. When I end
no Capitalization when I begin
Rulelessly I flow my art
  Not a single!
Exclamation mark
Are you not the one
Who'll know?
Where a question mark
No longer goes

Warp the structure
Bend the lines
Put in repeat
Let emotion unwind
Make yourself
Your poetry's the best
Be your own ruler
Pass your own test

Take your own road
Where ever it leads
Lover or hater
It's all poetry!

She's written with crimson red blood,
Unceasingly flowing
From her invisible cuts.

Dressed with carefully picked enthralling wordsー
Seemingly fitting, seemingly perfect
But as you read between the lines,
You'll be wrapped with her gloomy wilting vines.

She could either be a riddle
And leave you bewildered,
Or she could be an answer
And shed light upon you.

For she's a sad poem
But beautifully written.

©kg

Bones,
Delicate, slender, beautiful.
Cheek bones,
That encase a beautiful face,
A glowing smile highlights those bones,
With a tint of pink.
Collar bones,
Which lead to big beautiful *******,
That are ****, and hold a head up high.
Ribs,
**** little bones, peering right through the skin
Showcasing every small gasp,
Every small breath.
Hip bones,
A product of a flat stomach,
Sharp and beautiful,
Something he can grab tenderly.
Knobby knees,
That have a gap between them,
A gap for someone to fit in.
And long spindly fingers,
Cold to the touch.
Bones,
I want to see them,
I want to touch them,
Caress them with a tenderness never shown to me,
Then perhaps, when I can touch the fragility of my bones, under my skin
Will I be happy with my body, with myself
No longer will I be the girl needing to lose weight,
I will be beautiful, wanted, cared about
Perhaps, even people will see how fragile I truly am,
Perhaps someone will look after me, finally.