I'm sorry,
I promise
To be
A
Burden
No more.

Wind sings through my blinds.
Birds dance synchronized in sky.
Leaves enter stage left.

Twinkle twinkle big bright moon,
You’re turning red like a **** of a baboon.
Or maybe it’s the blood of the man on you,
His fishing hook stabbed him right through.
Twinkle twinkle big bright moon,
This red looks really good on you.

Dirt brown washes in with roof top shingle gray.
Arms they are , long, slender arms.
Growing out of each, is another arm
and another arm
and another
and another.
Each growing out shorter and more slender.
Each a part of the same being yet,
Each has its’ own mind.
A mind with the same goal.
“GROW”
So delicate these arms are.
Pushed so easily by the wind.
That won't stop them though.
No, they will grow.
They grow and grow and grow.
As they grow the arms will embrace the wind and sway in the most elegant way.
Then when these long slender arm reach their goals end, they will grow again.
They will grow a hand.
A hand with fingers flat and pointed oval shaped.
Unlike the arms the fingers will be green.
A green that is as if a paintbrush mixed a lime and seaweed into one.
Now one day whether the arms know it or not it’s fingers will change.
Its’ fingers will change colors.
Colors of an unorthodox bipolar rainbow.
Then when the colors of the this rainbow reach an end the fingers will fall.
Each and every one will fall, fall,  fall.
That is okay though because the time will come when
those fingers will
GROW
again.

It is beyond quiet for even the pen does not speak as it falls.
There is me and hardly that for my memories gone.
My name, family, friends, what I have done in life, I do not even care to recall.
There is my target, it was a goner once the silence was switched on.

You got into my mind.
You, a random guy.
I was just trying to start my new life and you were kind.
I shared with you, a conversation, and since I knew I would probably never see you again I tried not to be my normal shy.

You came into my life once more.
You, my stranger.
I always kept you in my mind but it has such a long time I did not recognize at first that it was you from before.
I thought to meet you again, for you and I to become friends, it must be some sort of fate, a reminder that evil was gone and so was the danger.

You became my support.
You, my most special person.
I eventually let you in because I was falling apart and as I did my best to hide it, you saw and our friendship you did not abort.
I grew more and more fond of you, for you stayed by my side, and with your help I did not worsen.

You became my angel sent from above.
You, the one I trusted the most.
I decided I had to leave for a while to try to get myself fixed for good and you show your support by announcing you had the same feeling for me, love.
I do not really believe in God but if  there ever was a time it would have then because I felt like I was on cloud 9, sorry I do not mean to boast.

You made me a fool.
You, who is a stranger after all.
I tried to keep in touch but with each ignored attempt I felt more like some stupid mule.
I do not understand how one can talk of love but not try to write or try to call.

You gave me love, you gave me pain, you gave me hope to a degree.
You, the one who built me up, then stood aside to let me fall too.
I must tell you that even though your love was a lie, to me it was not, and it was more special because I never would have imagined anyone outside my family could love me.
I must tell you because of that I can do nothing but thank you.

Unwritten laws/rules
Standards of society
Brake them and chastised

There are four of us.
We may fight but that is okay.
Together, forever, we stand tall,
We are not small.  
Nothing can break our bond.

There are four of us.
We may fight but that is okay.
Together, forever, we stand tall,
We are not small.
Please life, just stay this way.

There are four of us.
We may fight but that is okay.
Together, forever, we stand tall,
Or so we thought.
Soon we will grow apart.

There are four of us.
We may fight but that is okay.
It's our only way to show we care.
Evil is here.
Will we ever be free?

There are four of us.
Life is nothing but despair.
Never together, forever, now.
What can I do?
Must keep his eyes on me.

Only one was spared.
Could we ask for more than that?
Together, forever, we stand tall,
We are not small.
Our bond was never gone.

I HATE IT!!!!
How my emotions can now get the best of me.
All it takes is one sad show, one sad movie, one sad:
story,
book,
life tale,
song,
I don’t even need some sad trigger and I am at the beginning again  standing at a shore that looks into a vast sea.
An: angry,
sad,
depressed,
dying and in agony ocean with each fish holding some sort of painful memory.  No this sea is not calm.
Each time I think I am getting better, WRONG, I am just a ticking time bomb.
Yep, that is right I just EXPLODE, BOOM!
Do you want to know what it feels like?
Well guess what, I will tell you anyway:
you are decaying from the inside out,
your heart feels like it is on fire and melting onto your rib cage, dripping on each and every other *****,
your brain thinking so many things at such an accelerated rate you can hardly make it out but at same time it is thinking nothing,
you are in so much pain you can not even shout, even harder to type these words down, I probably sound like a clown.
Tears? FORGET IT, you ran out of those long ago.
I always tell myself:
there are people who have had it worst than I, it is true I can not deny.
Look at me though, this is PITIFUL.
I envy:
those who cut themselves,
or try to commit suicide.  
They get help, they can not hide.
It is funnier because if you saw me on a street this is not what you would see.
I would be as happy as a bumblebee.

Freedom, sweet freedom,
I wish for thy.
My masters are cruel and mean and sly.

Freedom, sweet freedom,
Oh how I wish to be my own “man”.
I wish for wages and clothes, instead of doing my master’s evil plan.

Freedom, sweet freedom,
I can almost taste it when I am with him.
Not suppose to help him, I am not, but if I don’t his future is grim.

Freedom, sweet freedom,
I found in a form of a sock.
Master was tricked, it was quite a shock.

Freedom, sweet freedom,
though life is great now, it still is not fine.
No one wants a house elf that has demands like mine.

Freedom, sweet freedom,
An old man was so kind.
He gave me a job and pay and time off to unwind.

Freedom, sweet freedom,
the dark lord is back.
I will do all I can to help my young wizard friends counterattack.

Freedom, sweet freedom,
I think my time here has to come to an end.
Glad I am to leave in the arms of my friend.


(Rest in Peace Dobby)

A fool, a fool I am.
How is sharing my stupid life supposed to help me?
It is only a temporary fix, only a scam.
This pain is stuck with me, it is a guaranty.

Made from the flames of my past.
It has evolved to the point that going to the root is no use.
Intertwined with my soul I realize at last.
Only way to fix it permanently I guess is with a noose.

It is not time for that yet,
so I must deal with this pain, I would be lying if I said it is no sweat.

Little girl, little girl, you have never been here before.
Older sis, daddy, mommy, and you walk through the door.

Little girl, little girl, this will be your new home.
Your family goes one way and you go the other and roam.  

Little girl, little girl, you find a small room.
It has a set of stairs, that makes your curiosity bloom.

Little girl, little girl, run and grab you sister so you both can have fun up there.
As you come back with sister in hand, you see the stairs are not here.

Little girl, little girl, grow up in this house that brings a chill to your bones.
Grow up and always wonder what would have happened if you went up alone.

I am broken but that is okay, right?
It does not mean that I can not:
hope,
dream,
love,
care,
fight.
I am broken but that is okay, right?
It means I have:
been through hell,
suffered,
watch people suffer,
kept terrible secrets,
It means I have lived on, despite.
I am broken but that is okay, right?
It means:
I cherish the light,
but not afraid of the night,
if I end up alone that it is alright,
but if not that is a delight,
it means you can kick, hit, cause me to have random breakdowns, or even bite,
but no matter what, I can write.

I ask the tree who for hundreds of years has been around,
because his roots are strong and firm under the ground,
to teach me how to stand tall when I am alone and feel small,
that way no lumber men can make me fall.

I ask the river that stretches from sea to sea,
because her water doesn't know how to be nothing but free,
to teach how to keep going when I am stuck and don’t know what to do,
that way no boulder can stop me from the path I wish to pursue.

I ask the bird that is both strong on the ground as he is in the air,
because his eyes see that it is the ground that has the meal that he wishes to ensnare,
to teach how to observe my surroundings when life is at an ultimate high,
that way no doubts are in my mind that I can survive when my high life says goodbye.

I ask the sky who has beautiful stars, sunsets, and rainbows,
because she also has fierce storms that give many people halos,
to teach me how gain inner peace and balance when life is like a bumpy ride,
that way no bad weather forecast can make me hide.  

I ask my imagination to stay nearby,
that way I can ask more than just the tree, river, bird and sky.

Like caterpillars
Able to crawl out cocoon    
As a butterfly

I am a broken soul,
Who can not find a home.
I am on the outside of the outside,
Looking in and laughing at the daft and fortunate.
I can not show weakness,
For I am seen as a constant strength in the experiment of life.
I have been through a war not many know of,
And with it over and my armor gone I am left with nothing.
I tried to start a new life,
With a quarter of my life gone.
I am like a veteran who has PDSD,
Except I have to keep it to myself and receive no help.
I find that rarely my broken soul can be seen,
By those who did not know me before the war.
I am the only one who can heal me,
Though I do not know how.
I have come to a conclusion that I will always be broken,
However that does not mean that I can not try to be happy too.
I am a broken soul,
Who hopes to one day find a home.

Name in which I hid behind.
Lucy a girl who had daddy issues and like me stood to fight.
Guy a boy who saw the future was undefined.
Jessica Pfeiffer the person no longer afraid to hide what she wrote and is ready to take flight.

Pure as snow
or
a unpainted rose
but
colors that commingle within
like
anything else
because
nothing is just as it seems.

No
not just white
look
with open eyes
look
on the edge
and
in the middle
see
the warm Easter yellow
that
draws blind eyes in
look
towards the end
or
bottom of
see
the light inviting gray
that
brings outs the depth, definition, and shape.

Pieces of art
hung above
in a gallery
titled
Troposphere.

The laundry area was in the same room where he slept.
Since it only takes one to the job it is the perfect place for a “test” site to be kept.
On any day, at any moment, behind you he could be lurking.
You both know you can not force your way past him, which is why he is Smirking.
“Close your eyes, hold out your hands,” is what he demands.
There is no other option, you have no choice, you do as he commands.
It is long and kinda slender and in your hand all it does is shake.
With eyes open now I stare at him in confusion that is not hard to fake.
Put it in his hands and walk away, there is nothing you can say.
A few weeks later you have a chore to do, that needs to be done.
The coast is clear, or so you thought, for when you leave, you see in the darkness A silhouette that you can not outrun.
“Close your eyes, hold out your hands,” is what he demands.
There is no other option, you have no choice, you do as he commands.
You hold something both squishy and hard, that you never felt before.
Open your eye and you are surprised, drop your hand, and stare at the floor.
Every time in your room you are puzzled and ask yourself if this is what you Should expect from a father.
One thing is for is sure is it feels wrong and is a bother.
Every now and then for a while these “test" transpire.
Every time he seems angered that you do not have the same desire.
He did not seem to be doing anything to anyone but you.
Knowing that, you do not know what to do.
If he stops, does that mean that is over or that he has moved on.
If he stops, what is a pro and what is a con?
You could try to make him satisfied.
A thought like that only makes you feel horrified.
Coward, Coward, COWARD, is all you think and still sometimes think.
You write those words in your journal of depressing thoughts with what you Wish sometimes is blood, but rather is ink.

You left us with him.
Knowing that he hurt you too.
I do not blame you.

I use to write when I thought death was by my side.
I would write because it was the only way to save my life.

I write now to tell a story.
I write now not for the fame and glory,
But because I am a mess.
I have a pain in my chest.

I write now to set myself free.
So please bare with me.
I know my writing is not the best cup of tea.

My vocabulary is plain and mundane.
My writing must be the same.

I just want to be saved.

Curiosity
Big red button screams at you
“Push me, I dare you!”

To help and not gain
Though not done often as should
When done, BIG thumbs up

Stars so small in my eyes,
Yet so truly big you are, my sight sometimes lies.

So small we are,
We who think we have come so far.

Out beyond our sky is never ending black,
Said to be expanding, like it is on a track.

A theory states that the end will bring you to the start,
Kinda like the blood pumped from a heart.

But if the never ending black just keeps going,
What is the area in which it is expanding in, we are unknowing.

Consider the theory of which is like a shape of a sphere,
What is outside the sphere is not clear.

What is beyond the beyond?
No one knows, in which no one can accurately respond.

Though here we are in a world that does not make sense,
We heed it no mind or our sanity would be balancing on a fence.

But here I am as a stare at the stars that are big but look so small,
And I wonder about it all.

Three days to a week.
Twice a month or skip a month.
Day Two and I hurt.

If I wrote of love, what would I write?
That once upon a time there was a belief.
It was true and pure, it was love at first sight.
He/she stole your troubles, stole your heart, just like a proper thief.

Blue birds will sing and the sun will beam.
Storms will thunder to the beat of your heart.
They will fight off any nightmare and replace it with a dream.
You will grow old together and not even death can make you part.

However fairy tales do not tell you of previous heart brakes.
Fairy tales do not tell you how easy it is to fall for lies.
Fairy tales do not tell you of all the fakes.
Fairy tales do not tell you how many will just use and walk off without any goodbyes.

I still believe though in that once upon a time.
That I will find my Mr. Right.
I will be theirs and they will be mine.
That we will live happily ever after and he will be in black and I will be in white.

Ages 5-10
I do not know where to begin.
You were my hero.
I remember how you would come home from a long day of work and have a Snowball fight .
Are family was perfect even when we had no money in sight.

Ages 11-13
Your true self was revealed to be rather mean.
I was confused and not amused.
You would put me through tests.
My answers were always of protest.
I did not want to give in and I was afraid.
If I did not give in would you eventually make a trade.
Would you go after one of my sisters you terrible mister.
I wanted to protect but I did not want to do what you call respect.
You began to get irate and punished me by putting me in the worst mental State.
It got so bad that all you would have to do is stare and that was more than I Could bare.
I would run outside and hide in which I would break down cry and wish to die.
In a way though I was happy because you seemed content in my torment.

Ages 14-18
More got added to this torturous routine.
He must have thought this was a game because he brought people in.
This must be a sin.
These people were my family who had about a dozen kids and now they are to Stay here and I am put in charge of their care.
I am a slave who must be brave but that does not mean I will behave.
I still must keep those evil eyes on me.
Make it so I am all that he sees.

Ages 19-20
I have scars aplenty.
My mom who has been out of the picture came and saved the day.
She grabbed sisters and took them away.
With them finally being loved, I can be as free as a dove.
For a while I was and things were great but the shock has caught up and I told It, “You’re a bit late.”

Words can cut like knives.
Do you know how deep they cut?
I’m afraid to ask.

Why do you have such a high expectation?
Is this what you want me to become,
will this make you content,
do you know by asking this I will start to go numb,
that even so I will do this with no argument?

You have the proof.
You know what he has done.
Is it because he lived under your roof,
That he is your son,
That you still think it is a bunch of  lies?
That he has been innocent all along.
I can see it in your eyes,
It is not your son but me who has done wrong.

Brush across my face,
tossing my hair,
a call from the sky I want to embrace,
looking up all I can do is stare.

Wash away my worries,
lift me up from the ground,
tell me your stories,
tell me while you’re still around.

I will wait for you to return,
when you run past me I feel nothing but free,
a short moment with you is all I yearn,
it is my simple plea.