if roses always blossomed in concrete,
perhaps people wouldn't dislike the thorns.
they would look at its precious petals,
admiring the very miracle as it was.

I see people the same way,
little seeds planted into the dirt
nurtured with the water of purity
stained with the sun of love
cooled by the darkness that festers
within us
and
risen from the concrete thoughts
of simplicity and content
for the little things,
the love of holding hands
on the park bench
sipping cocoa underneath
the winter moon.

if roses always blossomed in concrete,
being different,
normality,
the very labels of society
wouldn't have such values.
people could walk along the streets
with their imperfections
without having to hide behind
a mask
no quarantine
could ever warrant.
a woman could fall in love
simply,
truly in love with a man
of whom walked along
the wire
less traveled.

instead,
we are bound by the typical rules of nature.
the dirt is no longer nurtured so much as it is
coarse and rough.
the water is tainted,
stained with poisonous
judgment,
bad-mouthing,
words that sting like bumblebees.
the sun no longer shines
in our direction...
it is dark.
cold.
the darkness we once relied on
becomes our undoing.

it has been too long
since my mind has wandered,
journeyed down the rabbit hole
and put words together.
life has changed,
events have arranged
in such a way that
I myself may actually learn
to feel better.

I stand before you all
behind the confines of a desk
sometimes a mess
and other times writing these
words
these alliterations
of altercations and hypocrisies
just as a way to de-stress.

it has come to a point
where within myself I see
the damage for what it truly is
and just this once
amongst its roots
I see not others,
not the toxic mother
nor the controlling parents
the troubled siblings
or judgemental relatives.
for once,
through the rough edges
I see me.

I want to save her,
to pull her out in the warmest embrace
let her know it is okay
to love
to hate
to be happy or irate
take the pleasure and the pain
inside that beautiful twisted brain.
I want to want myself,
to look in the mirror and see beyond the scars.
a flawed doll she may be,
but even they have an untapped beauty.

there's a reason why the hope and joy
does not befall my face anymore
when I think of a time
of turkey and gatherings.
surely, the autumn breeze
the chill of winter slowly
creeping
into the calendar
excites my spine.

there is, however
a darkness
a shadow of a memory
that belongs to this festivity
that I simply cannot let go.

it started out pretty rough to begin with,
the forbidden romance
between a boy
and his future life
a simple girl
shy,
sweet
with a dark past
and yet
he would still make her his wife.

the girl,
once tranquil
once free,
sent back home
after the anxiety of being lost
trapped
scared beyond compare
in the big city,
back to the home she once knew
a house of love and family,
with control
with tyranny and hypocrisy in the brew.

the day carried on,
able to eat to her content
laughs were shared
she could smell the liquor upon her father's breath
down,
down another glass, she drank
until the time would pass
but not enough alcohol
nor pills
nor mental drills in the world could prepare
for what her father would ask.

his question uttered slowly and divine
had been if she and the boy intertwined
her answer, no, with another glass of wine
a slight smile and nod help her troubles go away
until her heart sank,
mind went blank
her eyes filled with tears that had to disappear
when his words poured out that filled her with rage.

everything went blank,
her mind in default.
it was as though she was no longer her own,
but running like a machine
like the little doll
in the grand scheme
of the household where her life began.
everything in me wanted to die,
to run from the table
to curl up and cry
hearing the words
from father's intoxicated breath
screeched an internal scream
wishing
dreaming
hoping for instant escapism,
death.

later that night,
with a paper and pen
tears streaming down
like rivers without bends
I wrote a letter
a confession
pouring my heart out to daddy dearest
making it clear
that it would never be sent.
I curled up in my room,
letting the darkness seep through,
hours passing by
as I simply opened up my mind
and welcomed the depression.

the moon,
So present and glistening
rose over the sky that day.
it was a final ribbon on the
perfect day...

My eyes, slowly slipping
Into the pools of peaceful sleep
When terror,
Just got a moment filled my heart.

As though an otherworldly experience
My body was not my own.
The jolt of energy took the place
of the once lunar relaxation,
“good night,”
now words no longer present on my face.

The time spun faster
than my head,
Looking around for the sound that
startled me.
Was it the source of my worst fears?
Or perhaps the delusions of my mind
transformed into present conformity?

The vision became clear,
No longer confirmed as a simple fear
A little kitten, my kitten
Dancing in the shadows.
I could no longer sleep,
doing my best to keep
her away.
Try as I might,
Towards the middle of the night
She kept coming back until the early day
light.

as I arise from slumber
with memories of such a day
I cannot help but blush at the pigments
of color and beauty that painted
the memories of yesterday.

just a few friends beneath the spring's glow
driving, cruising through a
washed up city,
one I used to call my home.
racing down the roads,
the adrenaline pushing me back into my seat,
despite the uncertainty in my heart,
I felt so free
like the little songbirds that leave their trees.

it felt rebellious,
simply wonderful to be away
from the cornered walls that kept me confined
and once reunited with the stars
that leave me fluttered
and entwined
in the concept of love.

in its touch and warm embrace
I felt as though I could make it through
the darkness of every day that I'd face
for a simple kiss
sealed my heart for eternity
friendship,
secured my smile for moments to come
beneath the springtime sun
and its enriching sun-kissed memories.

never will I forget those that bring their paintbrushes,
their exotic colors.
they contribute to the beauty,
the bliss of such a perfect day.
each stroke compliments their shine,
their canvas the warmth of the day.
imaginations run wild,
laughter
fun
and the simple pleasures
to be around those who make you smile.

I lie awake in bed,
drifting off to sleep
in the middle of the night,
free from uncertainty
wrapped in the warmest of blankets
entangled by sun-kissed memories.

How is it,
That in the toughest concrete
The roses can blossom
But he has no potential in your eyes?

How is it,
That when my heart flutters and thumps
Like the beating drums and marching of the ants
I have to conceal my joy around you
Like makeup?

daddy’s little girl
The perfect little doll
How is it that I can be what you want
But what I yearn for,
Can’t have at all?

It’s this kind of mindset
That turns on the reset
Button
In my mind.
In my darkest hours the river of tears stream and I shake till
The hours pass
On the hourglass
Of my patience.

What I’d give to be
In a field of camellias
In the bitter frost
Of January
Looking into the crystal white
skies,
at least in the arms of the beloved..
whether in the eyes of you it is accepted or not.

from other perspectives,
it may not have been a nightmare,
no clowns nor ******
no frowns nor blood,
a different fear may have been present
but not one that any understood.

the room was brightly lit,
a stairwell encasing so high
you could feel the tension thick enough
to cut with blades.
I couldn't breathe.
my chest closed in tighter,
throat clasped.

as I began to escape
the never-ending
constantly winding,
bending
prison                      
there were other people in my presence
two,
perhaps three.
I couldn't tell if they were allies.

it was broad daylight,
the sun gleaming in the background and
yet
something was different.
the feeling,
the weather was so cold...
in my reality its bracing chill hits me.
mom,
sister,
young and old,
grandmother,
brother...
their stare,
their piercing eyes
looked right through me.
they gave me such judging eyes
but at the same time,
their smile was less comforting,
I was their pique of craziness
the epitome of insanity...
I needed help,
I need help.
a way out,
their smiles were that of concern and fear.

I had so many questions,
where was my father?
what did I do wrong?
why was I such a...
a basket case?
the mental disgrace
of the highest proportions
I awoke very scaredly,
frozen,
angry like a wounded animal
with a feeling in my chest
tighter in my chest than I could know.