Humpty Dumpty
Sat on a wall;
Humpty dumpty;
This stories not about him at all;

But rather a tale
Of a heart gone askew;
A tale of pain; broken heartedness
And nothing new

A heart bathed in blood,
In pain and misdeeds,
A heart bathed in insecurities;
And its doubts that it bleeds;

So this heart;
It was bandaged;
Fixed up but never again new;
This heart of bled tears;
all emotions did rue;

Till the faithful day it came across a wall;
A wall so high; so spiked and jagged;
It pinched and bruised and tore
The heart ragged;

But the heart did it climb
To get to the top;
It refused its beats of its pain;
And it refused to stop;

The wall it was heavy; large and stone cold;
But this heart knew this wall
That was its fears in a solid mould;

But this heart;
It was cracked; it was bleeding till dry;
Its beating was slow now;
More a whisper than a cry;

Till the heart stopped beating;
Let go and fell into the sky;
All this humpty dumpty watched from his seating;
As the heart fell to its silent lullaby;

Till the heart hit the ground;
Lay there stone still;
Without a sound;
Just wallowing in forgotten will;

And all the kings horses,
And all the kings men,
Could not put back together;
What was the hearts final end.

What is this diminutive?
This quiddity of how we live,
This good and bad,
And right from wrong,
This insane concinnity,
We’ve followed for so pitifully long.

We need learn and ruse our minds,
To understand all types of kinds,
For man is not salubrious,
And all we seek is dubious,
We need to come to understand,
We all are good but all still bad,

We all are docile but maleficent,
Average and Magnificent,
We choose to be one or the other,
One or another,

Some skilled to beguile,
Others only know how to be difficile,
We all are weakened by indigence,
And we all are to this world exiguous,

So what is this surquedry of whose good and bad,
just because some may be of duende,
And others temerity mad,

No matter what you may do or say,
Your actions my apodictic opinion will not sway,
We will always be of human nature,
What is this good and bad nomenclature?

We are human and not irrefragable,
And the definition of unstable,
So be thee good or bad,
Be thee happy,
Be thee sad,
Be thee sane and be the mad,
We all can be good but we still stay with some bad.

“I want!”
Begged my heart,
As it strained against its chain,
My brain screamed
“You shunt!
“I won’t let you hurt again.”

My heart cried,
“Why not?”
And “Where is your pride?”
My brain mocked.

“You’re built to bleed, and not to think.”
My brain convicted,
“Like you where built to lead, but not to link.”
My heart contradicted.
“Love is for fools and fools alone.”
My brain predicted.
“Well then a fool I am for love of fond I’ve grown.”
My heart conflicted.

“You are nothing without me.”
My brain told,
“I beat without you, as you can see.”
My heart said growing bold,

There was a silence,
Between the muscle and the head,
My heart needed guidance,
And without my heart my brain would be dead.

“You know I wish to protect you.”
My brain whispered now,
“But I must reject what you do.”
My brains authority my heart could not allow,

“I am not so callous that I do not care at all.”
My brain explained,
“I understand that on my decisions it’s your function to implore.”
My heart disdained.

“So you can see now why I hold you back?”
My brain feebly asked,
“You are the reason freedom to love I lack!”
My heart finally did at the notion grasp.

Contemplative silence filled the air,
Until my brain did declare,

“If that’s what you want, then go now and don’t dare cry,
But don’t come back bleeding and broken,
And say I did not try”
And so my Brain had spoken.

“How are you?”
They tend to ask,
“Are you okay?”
But do they really see as they in my presence bask?

See the dried up tears,
I cried long ago,
The now cracked planes that once flowed,
Weeds now left where once flowers blossomed,
A garden now dead and left darkened,
A grave of dead emotion now here lies,
A mind, a heart all feelings do despise,

You don’t really feel or care,
You don’t really know or wish to understand,
You don’t truly want know what I have to bear,
Your imaginary concern just leaves me bland,

Why pretend to want to know my sorrow,
Defend to know this heart that’s hollow,
You’re just another pain,
Another smile strained and
Just more energy from me drained,

“I’m fine.”
A potent deceit I tend to give,
“Yeah, Of course I am ok!”
A tasteful lie they don’t see nor want to,
They tend to believe.

He had been her light,
At the end of a dark and lonely tunnel,
He had been her fight,
To end all that her did trouble,

But she was just a number to him,

He had been her reason to get up,
The reason that she dreamed,
The reason she’d stay up,
And the reason that she gleamed,

But she was just a number to him,

He had been her smile,
At the end of a dull and dreary day,
He had been that extra mile,
Before from everything she almost had walked away,

But she was just a number to him,

He had been the rainbow in her storm,
The sun in her cloudy sky,
He had been the fire that kept her warm,
And why feelings in her did not yet die,

But she was just a number to him,

She had been his newest achievement,
The he could not get,
And once he obtained her appeasement,
She became just a number whose name he would soon forget.

He had been her light,
At the end of a dark and lonely tunnel,
He had been her fight,
To end all that her did trouble,

But she was just a number to him,

He had been her reason to get up,
The reason that she dreamed,
The reason she’d stay up,
And the reason that she gleamed,

But she was just a number to him,

He had been her smile,
At the end of a dull and dreary day,
He had been that extra mile,
Before from everything she almost had walked away,

But she was just a number to him,

He had been the rainbow in her storm,
The sun in her cloudy sky,
He had been the fire that kept her warm,
And why feelings in her did not yet die,

But she was just a number to him,

She had been his newest achievement,
The he could not get,
And once he obtained her appeasement,
She became just a number whose name he would soon forget.

There is this little monster,
That torments me day and night,
That my peace does squander,
And my teddy cannot fight,

It comes to me in darkness,
This little monsters power,
Its eyes they’re heartless,
From the cold I can’t help but cower,

There is this little monster,
Who everyday does mock me,
And Ensures I will not prosper,
It will not let me be,

It tends to haunt me often,
Sometimes in the light,
Its words do never soften,
And its hold on me is tight,

There is this little monster,
Who loves to see me cry,
I pray for its departure,
And it wishes for my spark to die,

It watches me each day,
And knows my every thought,
It waits for me to decay,
And my wound for which it sought.

There is this little monster,
That no one else can see,
Nobody else does it bother,
Because this little monster-lives in me.

Mommy,
You’re too good for me,
This daughter who you barley see,

Not by your choice,
But by her own,
With her tendency in others to rejoice,
And has left you to be so alone.

Well Mommy dear,
Here is your daughter that your loss does fear,
Your daughter who lacks the ability to show,
All the love for you she wants you to know,

So mommy so true and kind,
Mommy women like you hard to find,
Mommy I am sorry,
That I argue and make you worry,

Mommy I am sorry,
That to grow I was in such a hurry,
Mommy I never meant to love you less,
But with it’s hard with broken pieces I must confess,

You’ve warned me countless times,
Of people and their soul crimes,
Mommy you’ve warned me of this place,
But mommy I had to learn at a rapid pace,

It’s hard to love, to show, to trust,
After being so many times with a knife in the back ******,
But mommy you warned me,
And mommy you should not be the one to suffer for those who scorned me,

So my mommy,
So wise, so dear,
My mommy I love so much, and loss I fear.

Mommy I just want to plead I am sorry,
Sorry I don’t hug you,
Or kiss you,
Or tell you I love you!

So mommy thank you for the strength it took,
The strength you taught me,
And the weakness you shook,

Thank you mommy,
For being you,
Thank you mommy,
All I can say is I truly love you!

Roses once red,
Are now good and now dead,
Violets once blue,
No gone, left and rue,

My garden is empty,
No poor and unseen,
My garden once temptly,
Now worn and obscene,

Winters cold,
Did its damage,
Flowers once bold,
The chill did not manage,

My roses they bleed,
And my violets they’ve wept,
My garden by uncared,
And now by unkept,

My garden demolished,
By colds misdeed undone,
And unpolished.

Fruits will never bare,
Because of lack of care.
My flowers they’re gone,
Demised by weeds of wrong,

My garden it’s life,
Damaged by life’s strife,

My garden of Body,
My garden of mind,
My garden it bleeds of a past unkind,

My garden of soul,
My garden of me,
This garden is dead yet you cannot see,

Not on my own,
Yet feeling so alone,
All are round and all are near,
Yet it’s as if nobody’s truly here,

Me, myself and I alone,
Alone in silence darkness prone,

Not around for long they are,
Empty pain prolong reaches far,
It stretches wide and stretches long,
A unbound scar ripped by wrong,

I’m my own one and only,
Bitter, sweet, dear and lonely.
Company for which my heart does bleed,
My heart a beating seed of broken need,

Left cold and left stoney,
Left bold and left lonely,
So seasons pass and seasons change,
My lonely class becomes more derange,

Forever me and forever sweet,
In all pretend and bitter deceit,
Forever my own,
Loneliness’ clone,
Forever myself and so darkness quiet and all sound do engulf,
My one and only,
Here now and always lonely.

I can’t help how my cheeks do flare,
And my smile shrinks and shy’s,
When at me he stares,
With those naughty blue eyes,

Ice blue screams adventure in his heart,
Different shades where emotion lies,
Making me blush his untrained art,
With those naughty blue eyes,

Ice blue eyes have me intone,
I can’t help the butterflies,
From only he alone,
With those naughty blue eyes,

Ice blue eyes plead him wise,
He’s made me a klutz,
With those naughty blue eyes,

Naughty blue eyes,
That so my passion entice,
Naughty blue eyes,
You got me thinking twice,

Ice blue eyes that whispers depth,
Subtly watching me he tries,
He’s got me perplex,
With those naughty blue eyes.

I sit in front of my dressers mirror,
Stare at the plain adequate girl staring back at me,
Is she enough?
Can she walk out this door and hold her head up high?

No.

And so I pull,
And tweak
And brush
And dry,

I look at the girl in the mirror again,
Her hair is done up,
Pretty and well kept,
But dead dry and limp because of damage,
And I can’t help but think it represents my inner self,

Though dead,
I look substantially better,
But is she enough?
This girl staring back at me?
Can she hold her head up high with the confidence of knowing what she wants?

No.

And so I apply base,
Concealer,
Try to fix my uneven complexion and blemishes,
Eye shadow,
Then eye liner,
Mascara,
Lipstick….

And again I stop to look at the girl,
She looks like women now,
As every feature is defined and highlighted,
Her complexion even,
Blemish free…

But is it enough,
This women staring back at me,
As the make up smudges and rubs off,
She’ll become the drab adequate girl underneath it all,

I can put on beautiful clothes,
Amazing jewellery,
But I remain the plain adequate girl that stares back at me,

With her sad eyes,
Set jaw,
Lips that barely ever quirk upwards with a hint of a smile,
That girl who’s cried so many eyeliner smudging tears,
That girl who fears,
Everything,
Everyone,

No matter how much I do,
To hide her away,
Keep her from the world,
No matter how many layers of,
‘Happy’,
I try to mask her with,

She will come out,
As my clothes grow rumpled,
My jewellery loses its shine,
Its glow,
As my hair turns grey,
My make up smudges,
I become her again,

And is she enough?

I stare at her long and hard,
I notice the high cheekbones,
The strong set features,
I realize this girl is only adequate,
Because she believes it,
Only plain because it’s all she’s ever been convinced to see,

With all her wear and tear,
She is beautiful.
And so I grab my make up remover,
Wipe away the mask suffocating me,
I shake my hair out to its full volume,
I remove the jewellery that’s cold against my warmth,

And I look at this plain adequate girl,
Not so plain and adequate anymore,
And I ask myself,
Is she enough?
Enough to face the world proudly as whom and what she is?
Is she?

Those sad eyes stare back at me with a new found spark,
Those set lips quirk up into a hint of a sly smile,
And she winks at me.

Yes.