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 Oct 2017 NitaAnn
Em or Finn
 Oct 2017 NitaAnn
Em or Finn
Please be cautious when reading. If you feel you'll be triggered in any way, please don't read. Thank you.

I'm done.

Done with trying too hard
Done with sleepless nights
Done with disappointment
Done with being a disappointment

Done with hearing their voices in my head
Done with seeing visions of my abuse
Done with being around people
That just don't care

I know they care
But my brain tells me they can't be trusted
They're like everyone else
I avoid "everyone else"

I'm done with my anxiety
Done with my sexuality
Done with my gender
Done with my PTSD

Done trying to pretend I'm happy
When all I've wanted to do is cry
But crying would make others uncomfortable
And doing that in the past led to peer abuse

I'm done with my brain going on tangents
Done with having a constant smile on my face
Even though it's fake
And everyone knows it is

Done with heaving after a panic attack
Done with my abusive visions becoming reality
Done with feeling nothing
Done with being anything

Done with breathing
Done with living
Because at this point
What is there to live for?
My feelings for the past couple days. Getting help and doing my best to get better. Wrote this to relieve some pressure.
 Oct 2017 NitaAnn
Mel Kay
Dear Daddy
 Oct 2017 NitaAnn
Mel Kay
Dear Daddy

You put your hand on my leg in the movies.

I wanted you to stop.

You hugged me.

I wanted you to stop.

You smiled at me.

I wanted you to stop.

Imagine being afraid of a stranger,

Imagine that stranger was your father.

Signed your 8 year old daughter.
I'm sorry about this one.
 Oct 2017 NitaAnn
Jeremy Bean
Some memories
are like
a cigarette
whose firey ends
burn a mark
upon your favorite linen
while you look elsewhere
and as you're able
to hide it from others
you know
it will always be there
 Oct 2017 NitaAnn
Ever been happy so much,
You cried?

Ever been sad so much,
You laughed?

I love so much that I hate
I hate, so I must love
I'm a living mess
Who am I, wandering this place?

And know that I mean what I say,
I say what I know
But I know that not knowing anything
Is what I know the best.

A mess, tangled in wires
Of unsorteable emotions and
Unrecognized behaviours
Unknown thoughts,
Uncommon, just another head in the clouds.
Who are you to change this world?

A living contradiction.

To be or not to be?
To live, or not to live?
I know the unknowable thoughts

Because everyone knows what they do not know.
Everyone has their reason to live,
Or not to live.
So I said let it be!

So you can proudly say,
»I know the unknown!«

So you can always say,
»I know the unknown!«
| Living contradiction|  |Hamlet|  |To all the confused|
 Oct 2017 NitaAnn
A Puppet Girl
 Oct 2017 NitaAnn
A puppet girl, all dressed up, with painted lips and lined eyes, stands on her toes as she spins and glides.
Guided by her puppet strings she swirls and twirls around the ring.
Round and round this dusty stage she gets up and dances day after day.
The hands that hold her gentle yet firm show her just how much she must learn.
The hands grow fierce, music harsh,as they pull and push her into a perfect arch.
A string then snaps, poor puppet goes loose, abandoned and alone as they tie her a noose.
A puppet girl, all banged up, with chipped paint and bleary eyes, slumps alone as she starts to cry.
Musical laughter fills the ring, as she hears someone begin to sing.
Clanking clattering across the stage, she drags her limbs out of her cage.
She topples and falls tangled in string, trying to find the source of the singing.
Kneeling before her, with beautiful wings, is another girl living her dreams.
A puppet girl, just like her, moving with ease, unburdened by the need for strings.
"Are you an angel?" she rubs her eyes trying to see if this girl is a lie.
the girl before her smooths over her dress, before gliding into a curtsy and saying "yes."
"I wish to be an angel like you, then I could be free to move."
The angel tilts her head, her smile sly, before opening her mouth to reply,
"As you wish it, it shall be so."
then with terrible grace and ease, she cuts off the strings...
and with it she holds the Poor Puppet Girl's head,
her body lays crumpled up,
shes.... dead.
"Shh." she whispers as she cradles the head,
she spins and glides claiming shes been naughty,
and attaches the puppet girls head on an angels body.
And as the puppet girl blinks her eyes,
she realizes she's back to life.
in a form now free of strings,
she can dance and spin as she may please.
then she sees her body crumpled where it now lies,
and with a shuddering sob she begins to cry.
the angel takes her hand in hers
and with a crazy smile and mad glint in her eyes
she starts to sing:
"hush little one,
now we are the same.
don't worry baby,
no more pain.
Now listen to me child,
let blood fall like blissful rain,
and we shall free those who remain,
free them from these awful chains."
beware the puppet masters.
for they will drive the puppets to the edge of the stage,
until they snap,
and the puppets lie dead
on top of the body pile.
 Oct 2017 NitaAnn
this old poet, one of the first, to see your wave,
when he was playing knick-knack paddy whack on his shoe,
the old poet then played two, and said,
yes, I will follow you

imaging-imaging that old poet with a glanceable cursory,
a small smile whispered, with entourage of a nod and a wink,
stands, knowing he is in the delivery room, a witness,
to first steps of a babe starting a new life
marvelous miracle by touching a button, a new line written,
not crossed but connecting by pressing "Follow"
with a finger from a hand, a human fringe,
attached to a breathing mind and a thinking heart,
the first to follow you, a ceremonial gesture of
innovation magic incantation, a new moon blessing,
a living person believing, remembering, the longest ago,
his first own graceful acknowledgement and eyes speak,

yes, I will follow you

the new poet, astonished at this induction to the smallest
Hall of Fame that they alone own the only key, study that
number, that number 1, the first to follow, kinda looking over
their shoulder to make sure the old poet still there on the morrow,
sure enough there are now two, safe in the back pocket,
a tabulation of humans who speak volumes of trust, saying,
yes, I will follow you

the old poet, imaging-imaging the babe, dancing round
the room, invigorated, challenged and the faucets pouring,
can't write it down as fast as the trains arriving disgorging,
words unique in new combinations and the rush of blood
from heart to head to those newly literary fingers bleeding
happy creatures of creation as if they are Noah
setting sail to save us with verbs and adjectives
two by two all for now species unheard of

the old poet wants to send cautionary notes, the path strewn
with frustrations of no inspiration ditches and inescapable cliches
that sound fresh but just aren't, the disappearing satisfaction,
the inability to get it just perfect, and so many obstacles
to be prophesied,
but he does not, these things must be self taught,
today let it suffice the initiation, the first crowning of
**yes, I will follow you
for this the way of the poet

10/16/17 5:09pm
what an honorific terrific
to be the first to follow
 Oct 2017 NitaAnn
Lior Gavra
We want options but hate making choices.
Looking up to others waiting for their voices.
Easily swayed when someone claims.
This is the right one, no one to blame.

Dating, living, food it is all the same.
The abundance just makes it a game.
Who, what, where fits us best.
Giving up on the original moving onto the rest.

How to pick one and be happy.
When you are just another fish in the sea.
Not hunting for what you need.
Clouded by objects, luxuries.

They say lovebirds only need each other.
Fluff their feathers and stay together forever.
We are no different, no need for royalty.
Just make a decision and keep some loyalty.
 Oct 2017 NitaAnn
Lior Gavra
The moment you forget.
Mind wanders with regret.
Eyes blurred, lose focus.
“What’s my current purpose?”

Is spontaneous enough?
Chasing a dream, tough.
As a child we rushed,
what was all the fuss?

The lost moment finds.
The lost moment unwinds.
The lost moment reminds.
Messes with our minds.

In that moment there is clarity.
We connect with our reality.
Understand humanity.
Endless possibilities.
Test our comfortability.

A chance to breathe.
Rebirth and see.
Are we where
we want to be?

Take that lost moment,
to reset your focus.
To find yourself and
your new found purpose.
 Oct 2017 NitaAnn
My dam
 Oct 2017 NitaAnn
My dam is full and its about to break, it reached capacity this morning. Slowly for the past 3 months it's been filling up with emotions I never shared, my thoughts I never spoke and my actions in which I'm not sure if I should or shouldn't have done. Scared and helpless on what to do now; What is there to be done? No one to get supplies and help fix it. Do I even want to fix it? Why fix anything when theres no one that will need saving. The man who helped build this dam is working for a new girl now. As the **** breaks ill be standing on top, drinking liquor while painting pictures on my arm in red with a silver pencil.
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