mickaela

mickaela Sep 2016

Precious

Cradled,
in the warm comfort of her love,
her baby smiles.

She smiles too
and something under her heart's stony grave
shifts.

Precious,
yet more priceless than her own life,
she'd sacrifice everything.

For this child
is now everything to her
eyes

"He looks like his daddy"
Those ugly words.
Symbols of a hated life.
Hated by her mother.
And her too.

She'll live it for her baby.
She'd go to hell for her baby.
She wants heaven for her baby.

"He looks like his daddy"
Ugly, ugly words.
Nothing but bitter, rotten,
lies.

Precious,
she smiles at the world in her hands,
in her arms,
She never had something so good before.
So ugly, like his daddy.

She turns from the eyes.
His eyes.
So harsh on her shivering, sweaty skin.
******* her to the bone.
That smile.
Drool dripping from the lips.
Of that chasm of knives
And lies.

"Yes, daddy loves you"

A dog on her body.
Invading her system.
Her skeleton tied.
To his bed.
And her life.

"He looks like his daddy".
His daddy, her daddy.
Her son, his son, her brother.
His mother, her mother, his life, her life, his smile his smile his smile.
His smile.
Not his smile.

Precious. Priceless. Her world. Her life.
Not him.
Never him.

She smiles.

I watched 'Precious' for the first time a while back. That is all.
Wait, no, not all. For all the precious girls out there, I want you to know that you are called precious, beautiful and important for a reason. Never forget.
Thanks for reading <3

#movie #precious #*** #****** #**** #teenagepregancy

mickaela Sep 2016

S(kills)

The spark you said you saw
(Within me)
Is smothered, smudged and smeared
On your sheets
The sheer shadows are shaded
And I bleed
Bitter black, bleak
Ink

The spark you saw has swam
In their sea
Of sweet, swollen, stolen
Beauty
(Their art is all I hope mine to be)
Brave, Beautiful, Brilliant

Ink

If my spark could be
A raging flame
If my flame could be
Beautiful pain
You’d read my dread
And understand
The sparks (Infernos)
in my head

Sprouting from my hands

When I wrote this poem, I was feeling very inadequate. No matter what talent you have, there seems to always be someone who is better than you at it. Despite the suggestion of writing in the poem, I wrote this with drawing in mind. I always inevitably fall into jealousy whenever I see an artpiece that I prefer over mine. Why can't I draw like that? HOW did they do this? Will I ever draw like this?
Then the wise one within me speaks a little louder:
"Maybe. Maybe not. Who cares? Why do I want to have someone else's style anyway? Why should I envy anyone? Why bitter jealousy, and not admiration? Why inadequacy, and not inspiration? And I KNOW that those same persons have felt inadequate before."

Thanks for reading <3

#art #jealousy #envy #inadequacy #comparison

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