Hey, You-

You sit high on your pedestal of metaphors and similes
You say I can’t write for ****, well thanks for the ministry  
But, please, show me where it is stated in your right
To act like you know a **** thing about me or my life
You want some emotion? Fine, I’ll give it to you
Like the back of his hand did to me when I was two
I’ll tell you some **** that would make you hurl
And cringe and binge and squeal and curl
Into a ball wrapped so tight you can’t breathe
Like I sat, locked in the closet when I was three
Only to go to school at five then six then seven
“It’ll get better, you’re only just eleven”
First day of middle school, unable to spell
Righteous punk in a personal hell
Cuz reading and writing aren’t a part of the drive
When you’re on the street just trying to survive
People looking away to what they don’t want to see
“Miss, could you spare some change to help me, please?”
You want to get personal? I can give you truth
I’ll tell you what the **** I’ve been through
Drugs, lies, abuse and ****
Freezing to death on streets without escape
Homelessness in herds of mothers and daughters
Generations of women born without fathers
I hide my scars well and maybe that’s why
You can’t see a **** thing behind your naked eye
But you can’t take away my story or my right
I’m too **** stubborn to back away from this fight
You take pride and hiding in your height and your rhyme
But I’ll give it to you straight, I don’t waste any time
I’ve seen too much and been dealt too little
To let someone like you, with all your riddles
Spit in my face to break me down
My body can sink and I still won’t drown
Your insults do not penetrate me
I’ve survived more than the lives of one, two and three
Numb and ruthless after countless stabs in my back
I am porcelain that falls and still does not crack
So, c’mon, try and tell me you don’t think I can
You’ll be forced to see just how can I am

Hand shaky, balancing the easel
Paint brush tight within grip
I've never seen a rainbow
Come and go so quick

It seems as if the rain clouds
Parted only for a moment today
Grey desolates,
but fear not, the colours will make their way

Shoes paint the streets with difference
Among all crowds, the brush flicks
But drop your tools & raise your arms to the sky
For you must paint the wind with your fingertips.

I long to run with the wolves,
feel the cool earth beneath my paws,
hunt a seemingly innocent doe
and shred her throat with teeth & claws.

I long to travel the mountainside,
the dense forests in which the pack hides.
And when I reach the top, I'll breathe sharp & realize
I've never been this high.

I long to nestle close
with those dear & whom I treasure most.
In a sea cave, lined with sand
just off the Pacific coast.

I long that when I'm old & frail
in a bed of leaves, I'll lie curled nose to tail.
I'll simply close my eyes, let the breeze sway
for this game was worth the life we played.

Today,
You told me how
your father never wanted you.

How,
you feel as if
you have no real family.

When,
he kneed you in
the face, over & over again.

Simply,
for not doing
what he pleased.

Today,
as you explained you
laughed because, "after all this time, I have to."

Today,
I wept all
the tears you were never allowed to.

'I write about the butterfly,
It is a pretty thing;
And flies about like the birds,
But it does not sing.

'First it is a little grub,
And then it is a nice yellow cocoon,
And then the butterfly
Eats its way out soon.

'They live on dew and honey,
They do not have any hive,
They do not sting like wasps, and bees, and hornets,
And to be as good as they are we should strive.

Every day I contemplate;
       This feeling never goes away.
There's nothing I can do.

There's something deep within my mind;
     I swear it's racing all the time.
Why can't I calm down?

Don't tell me that it's just a phase,
  It's been four years to this day,
And still I have no hope.

I'm not one to forget,
   I have no use for amends.
Please, just walk away.

Give me something to believe,
    Not your sense of empathy,
You'll only waste your time.