secrets ready to burst
from chest
pour out of mouth
caked in dust
after many years of being
locked up.

flowing out into the rhythm
of the great falls
as the words spill over the rim
to an overfilled cup
unending stream
of pent up feeling.

finally, no longer can it be held
from within the deepest origins
inside the soul
breaks free upon the broken wings
so that many can hear
the cry for miles.

throat cords will snap
from words upon words
falling on closed ears
screams upon screams
unnoticed by hidden figures
recognized by familiar faces.

scream when drowning
scream when help is needed.
most rather would tie the noose
to stop the secrets and screams
from spilling out of the gaping
hole in the face.

help that is needed will be given
tie the rocks to the feet of the screamer
watch you drown in the ocean
tie the noose to the neck
watch you swing from the tree
help is what was needed.

All of the words I have ever said
have been said before.
The life I have led
has been done before.

Such an average life
that doesn’t deserve notice.
A paper doll cut out with a knife
aiming for precision but left with
jagged edges.

What started out as a little thing
in the womb.
A life to be born with wings
torn to shreds when first sunlight
touches the skin.

Typically cradled by a loving mother
left to fall to the ground
without a bother.
Welts and a scarred heart
on the little baby.

Once a paper doll thought to be cut evenly and equally
like the other paper dolls of its kind.
Instead of scissors, a knife given to unworthy figures
created a paper doll.
Modelling it in their own image
destined to carry on its lineage.

mirrors are windows to the soul
or
just windows for all to see.

it’s for the man with the binoculars
to see a peek of my pink fleshy skin
that never sees the light.

women to see
the face behind the paint,
laughing at the rare glimpse.

everyone to tell me what to wear,
they see a **** to have their way
or a ***** to shame into femininity.

mirrors are windows to the soul.

to all the dimples on my body
with the urge to remove it myself
the need for it to be free.

curly, frizzy hair
burned to a crisp with an iron
creating a new identity.

perfectly shaven legs
to invite the touch and sight
of everyone near me.

plastered face of makeup
caked with it to cover
all the imperfections.

mirror, mirror shows
the part of me
I don’t want to see.

a troll curled up in a corner
under the dark rainy cloud
as the woman with the painted face
goes out to see the light of day.

your words ooze empty promises and maybe next times;
I learned to tune it out to keep me sane.
my heart grows weary with every hope I keep;
heart strings become out of tune to the beat of yours.

I can feel myself sinking in the quicksand that is your words;
sometimes I let myself drown in them.
I think that this time will be different that you have changed;
no one changes unless they see what needs to be.

Catching myself lying to you that I am fine;
secretly I am not.
I’ll just keep drowning in the sorrow;
your empty words can weigh me down to the bottom of the sea.

I burn my hand on the fire
because I can’t tell what is real
anymore.

The only color that can be seen
is the flicker of the flame
glinting through the fog.

Every way I turn is filled
with the emptiness left by the
smeared faces of former friends.

Reality of gray and lines
never filled in by the people
that were supposed to occupy the space.

I wave my hand across my face
checking the vision
that I see.

Never did it dissipate
cannot escape this weight
nevermore.

I can feel it now…

the back of my scalp
starts to crawl
as it hovers over me.

tingling sensation trickles
from my toes to
my hips.

so cold
so cold
so cold

the air drops
to below
freezing.

I can see my breath…

vision starts to fade
all the eye can see
but a faint purple.

purple turns solid
like a shroud
over my face.

all I see is
nothing but
black.

so dizzy
so dizzy
so dizzy

brain feels fuzzy
eating itself
away.

where am I…

body falls,
soul leaves
the chrysalis.