I sometimes wonder what would happen
If I took a box of colorful crayons
Out back into the garden
And into rows I plant them

Would some grow into rainbows
For all the unloved kids
Who have not had happiness
Shown unto their little eye lids

While others grow into colorful things
Of pinks and blues, yellows and greens
That fill those kids heads up with dreams
Like cotton candy, waterfalls, puppy dogs, and parties

But alas some kids will never know
Of brightly colored festive parades
Without their colorful seedling boxes
Being nourished in magical escapades

So I'll take from the crayons crop
Bring them into town and hand them out
To all the kids that have never known
The beauty that colorful crayons can grow

For in the rainbow's loving care
Kids everywhere will be happy to share
Crayon colors spread all about
A cavalcade of joyfulness that will forever ring out

I only prayed to the moon after it rose beyond
my window, the white sill a frame for waning
crescents and gibbouses--milk-drowned gods
dripping stars as they climbed skeleton branches--
some nights resting behind flood-heavy clouds.
People say the moon has a face, but
I have yet to see it sneer at my sins even as it tastes
my ocean-drop tears, evaporated into sky-bound veils,
brushed along the shadowed craters ...

The moon itself bemoaned imperfections in midnight
wind creaking branch against branch until I woke
slow from sleep--sad light staining my walls
pallid, pale as my own skin, glowing in muted
television shows left running while I dreamt
the moon spilled a star between my ribs--
dim luminescence radiating warm,
and the star, seeping through my pores, thawed
the ice I had prayed to melt in the first place.

I was built-
In frigid cold
Under painful circumstances
So delicate
Fragile, I was
When they created me.
They built me up from the ground,
Where I had fallen
Carefully they picked me up
Plastered a new nose on my face
Two black eyes
Two very empty eyes
And a smile.
A smile that would always fall off
I was finally something new
Not better,
Just different.
I believed I had been saved.
Until the day I realized,
I had been
Created in the coldest depths
Of other people's souls
Who gave me empty eyes
And a broken smile.
They made a snowman
And left me out in the cold
Because once they made me
I had no more use
Left alone to die
Waiting for-
The first wave of heat to come along.

A poem created in a head-
Lost before it can be written down,
Is a true tragedy.
A story that will never be told
Words that will never be released
Forever ******
To the graveyard
Of forgotten memories
And the crypts
Of stolen livelihood.

There's a forest
inside her
as thick as
the night
and no-one
to guide her
and no
guiding light
no-one
to remind her
that just
out of sight
is a path
she could make
of her own
so she waits
and she ages
like stone...