Infinite blue fields
  Growing cotton,
unworn,
             unsold
Letting the wind carry off the crop
    And night brings an end to the season.

Once upon a time, long long ago
And angel and a demon met
Both assigned to work on earth
To follow respective fates.
Once the jobs were done,
Both missions fin, complete
They set back to rest their feet
And bask in the setting sun.
At least the angel did.
The demon, here you see,
Was a serpent, or so they say
And of feet he had none.
A flaming sword was missing
But ah, what else was new?
They waited, talking until dawn
And then off the angel flew
They now had new missions,
Which sometimes conflicted
But tell me honestly,
What else would you have predicted?
So through the millenia they worked
The demon and the angel.
The angel shone, the demon lurked
But not as well as before
And through the years that passed them by
They began to form a bond, unheard of in all lore.
Though one a sinner, one a saint
Both found they truly had
A friend in enemy lines, and wondered;
Was it really truly so bad?
Though forces of good and evil,
They had some common ground
Of the Father and the Devil
No easy master was to be found.
This demon and this angel,
Though as different as could be
Were assigned the same mission
And it became clear to see
No longer could they fight
No longer could they be friends
They must form a new alliance
One to last beyond the end.
And it was plain to see
This was a good omen

They tell us to accept the skin we're in,
But how can I accept what society makes feel like a sin?
Gross to be bigger than a size one or two,
Does that sound realistic? Not to me, to you?
Purged souls on countless carbs of animosity,
The taste of self hate rich and buttery.
Magazines don't help, if only looks could ****,
Girls are starving and dying, I promise you not just for the thrill.
Hated and disgusted by their very own reflection,
Don't try and stop them it's a battle you'll never win.
Only bones can make them happy,
White porcelain devils flush their dignity gladly.
True selves lost with every vigorous flush,
The feeling so high, their own personal rush.
With every single flush they soon fade away,
Ask me how I know,
I was once that way.

Bygone days that seem
so long ago I hope shall
live again!
A tranquil retreat among whispering pines
Sipping iced tea or lemonade
Feeling the breath of God
in a thousand breezes....
O! how I yearn for those
bygone days
to return with spring!



*~Hilda~