Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Melanie Flowers Nov 2011
PleaseListen,

TWELFTH OF AUGUST ...
Slipped into my hideout she did
They get to wear shoes because they work
But no one said they weren't of odd tendency
A swan, a vulture, a fox, or a dog
I do not know what she was
But she was on her way out

She came into my room, wasn't odd
But then she said that the all seeing were dead
'I've switched the cameras off Kier
Now do as lovers do dear friend
And this here lover will bring you a pen'

Really didn't want to
If nothing else, crayons are okay
Have no need for lovers or friends
But she insisted, offered again
'Do as lovers do dear friend
And this here lover will bring you a pen'

So I held her hand

But no
She was not satisfied
So she insisted, tried again
'Do as lovers do dear friend
And this here lover will bring you a book
A blank book, a notebook
For the thoughts in your head'

I really didn't want to
I have no need for lovers
I have no need for friends
But wouldn't that be lovely?
A notebook and pen?

So I wrapped my arms around her waist

But, Oh.
She was not sated
And demanded more again
'Do as lovers do dear friend
And this here lover will bring you a key
A key to the door that keeps you in dreams'

I really didn't have to
I don't want lovers and friends
My freedom has been taken from me
But then again...
Wouldn't a key bring that back?

So I kissed her lips

My what surprise
It only deepened her thirst
Then and there
She begged of me more
'Do as lovers do dear friend
And this here lover will bring you a pet
Some pretty little shears
To drag across your pretty, pallid skin'

Really shouldn't
But lovers and friends,
They're far between these days
Didn't really want to
But scissors...really?
How did you know my dear?
That I've been dying
To drop my hide into someone elses hands

So I did as lovers do...

Lovers touch did nothing to fill me
Lovers kiss brought very little joy
But maybe. Maybe lovers gifts
Will help me out of this hole

That's all I have to say
NowTake me away, KIERAN J. CROW
Kieran's account of being bribed with gifts by a nurse who wanted something from him in return.
Melanie Flowers Nov 2011
PleaseListen,
FIRST OF SEPTEMBER ...
I was taken to a room
Where the hour is always bright
The panorama is always wall
And the look of it is white

I was trapped in there
Dying slowly for weeks
Or was it hours?
Or was it days?

I fear
I cannot bring myself to care
For all the useless time
That I was left in there

It was interesting to see
What the others had left behind
I spy my Blackbirds feathers
I spy the Demons eyes

I spy a Soldiers tears
Swearing they aren’t mine
I spy the Singers ears
I spy the Liars chimes

So this IS the plan!
To dissemble us all by hand
To pull us at the seams
So that we become bad dreams

Sudden revelation,
Rebellions true form
Made me think I’d stuff my pockets
And take those pieces to their homes

I spy a meal that belongs
To a tiny Porcelain Doll
I spy a book that is for
The Boy who just wanted a home

I spy a box with a puzzle inside
For the Quiet Lad who solves them all
I spy a flower of wondrous design
To blind the Girl who sees only flaw

But when I went to reach for these
I found I could not move
My arms were caught in binding
Those vultures are not fools

It was when they let me out
That I realized I’d left some things as well
I turned about to save them
While I was being dragged to hell

In that room
Of torturous peace
I forgot her white dress
And I lost my wings

That's all I have to say
NowTake me away, KIERAN J. CROW
Kieran's account of being kept in solitary confinement for the first time.
Melanie Flowers Nov 2011
Time is but subjective
It passes much like dreams
Recountable is the content
But not the beginning or the end are seen

There in the distance
Where time is of essence
Prodigies count time through notes
Bars are a pulse composed of worth
Life, it streams from young ones throats

In what is now a far off land
Where time is measured
Through blood and sand
Many an end was met by steel
Whose other edge did hope reveal

The place where myth and legend fly
Rarely stops to ponder time
For it is plentiful and runs like wine
Immortal they are, and divine
Unbeknownst to human kind

Here on the page
Where all flows from pens
I tried to gain control again
Through fights for fabrications
I nearly lost all sense

And still the time continues on
And tears won’t stop for this
Melanie Flowers Nov 2011
The boy who could create,
Destroyed every inch of the world he’d seen.
The boy who could only speak logic,
Couldn't prove a thing.
The boy who could read,
Forgot to flip the page.
The boy who could make more time,
Easily lost track of the days.
The boy who could lead,
Only ever tried to follow
The boy who could see,
Closed his eyes to everything.
The boy who could fly ,
Didn’t know that he had wings
Because the boy who could fly,
Well, he never learned to dream…

— The End —