Sometimes I'll lose myself
Writing up stories.
Of females.

Always females.

I can write from a Male perspective,
But I'm not comfortable.
I'm not in my element and
The words don't flow.

These females will have deep
Backgrounds, memories of their relatives.
Sometimes a privileged one
Sometimes one which leads them on their
Own personal journey.

Still they will suffer all the same.
Something is always stolen
It's always concerned with what
Great atrocities
They will suffer
In the great and copious details,
Which I provide.

But they will always
Find a way
They persevere.

Right when they're
Just about on the mend
I stop writing.

I cannot continue
To the point which
My readers panic,
Perhaps I've died?

No.
I have simply ran
Out off a track.

It recently dawned on me
That my characters
Were so real
Felt so genuine
And oh so guttural

Because each character displayed
A small piece of me.

Anger.
Arrogance.
Intelligence.
Love.
Forgiveness.
Naivety.

My heroines always find a
Place they can control
With kind people
And flourish within it.

But most of all,
they never get a happy ending.

Simply because I don't
Understand how to
Write a genuine happily ever after.

I always thought it stupid
Or perhaps idiotic
To write yourself
Into your own story.

Who needs a dozen mini me's?

But look at me go.

I've seen so many flyers
Missing, abandoned, died, maybe survived
And all at Walmart.

A wall of them.
And I cry inside for them,
Vowing I'll keep an eye out.

But I cannot stand the others,
The doubt and shirkers
They shirk their civil duties.

Mocking the few for their attempt to fight.
Rather than submit.
Since they never had a chance.

I'd rather support one that fought,
That tried to fight
Rather than accept her short life
And give up.

How dare you not share the sentiment
You've obviously never fought
Fought for your life.
Ignorant fool.

Undeserving of your gifted life.
You ignore the pain around you
And deny those that fight for their own lives.

Half the time,
I acknowledge love as a fairytale.
And yet!

I find myself swallowing trepidation,
And thinking,
"No. Even if it were here, or in the past, that's Him"
And then love is apparently a legitimate issue.

Sometimes he acts and I swallow a while before,
I react with humbled affection.
"That's my lot, I committed myself to stick to it."
Unfortunately.

Other times, I get this urge
It's to point, jab my finger at him and his actions
And just state, "That's a Him! It's a classic Him."

It's true,
He is my rescue.

He is my
Life boat
Fighting the currents
Refusing to let me drown.

I might be
Catatonic.
But.

He won't let me drown.
An oar in hand,
Each splash could be
His last.

But.

I know he'd fight each wave
To his very last breath

Sea water
Fists
Or bullets

He doesn't care
What it takes.
He'd fight until
The last beat of his heart.

It's true.
He would.
Just for me.

My heart is probably almost black
Who knows who to blame for that
Yet I still rised aboved it.

Scream my name
And little me couldn't imagine it.
She's pointing at a lose by 5
And then I won

I'm not as famous,
But still
I have nothing left to lose
And I'm not afraid like
She was.

I watch and I learn.

I learn I can help
I learn I can hurt

But I don't want to.
At all.
Unless you deserve it.

Drunkard.

So this is our first tree!
Its the most scrawny and skinny thing
I've ever seen.

But It's lovely as can be.
To me.
Especially with an ornament for all three.

When we flicked on those lights
I might have said I felt a bit of delight.

Forgive me for rhyming,
We just happened to do this
At about 4AM this Saturday.

I'm a little sleep deprived.
But that's actually normal for me.

What's not normal,
Is that he turned
The lights on
This past Sunday.

And slept with them
Ever since

I guess that's love for you.

When you're feeling down
Like you're living
Inside dust and dirt

When you feel heavy
Like you're heaving
The brunt of everyone else's
Pain and sadness, their business

All you need to remember
Is that I'll grab your hand
And we'll rise up
Through the dust and pain and dirt

We'll claim the throne
You and I
All for one and
One for all

I'll grab your hand
And catapult you
To the surface

I'll pull you up
By the sweat of my brow
To claim your rightful throne

I promise.
Not because I'll gain
By it.

But because,
I promise
You deserve it.

Sometimes something will
Set off a memory
I'd buried deep inside of me.

It could be a random cologne
In the grocery store
Or a little noise that ticks me
The wrong way.

And when I start to consider it
Turning the memory
Over in my mind
The love of my life
Will break the spell

"You've got your crazy eyes"

And I blink once, no twice
Before I come back to reality

I smile at his Leery face
And shake my head
Burying the anger and frustration below

"Sorry, just remembered something."
I guess I have a special smile for this
One that he recognises
But I don't.

Because he just stares for a moment longer
Searching
Before he nods and holds my hand.

The term "*** worker" holds the same definition as
The term "worker" to me.

A supply met a demand,
And yet as she blushed in humiliation
When I stepped out to toss trash,

She was embarrassed holding a laundry hamper
Despite the fact that I came out bearing
A Mickey mouse shirt too large, swallowing up my shorts, and a rattling bud light box.

I merely smiled and bowed my head in greeting,
While she seemed to defeat reason in her explanations.
She could have just said laundry-the most literal thing.

Instead she floundered nervously but my face seems to have that effect.
So I shrugged.
She floundered further.
I blinked and nodded again with a smile and turned for the stairs.

All the while I pondered,
Why not just say it when all her clients walked by me
Every day.

Smite. Fight.
I find myself angry at me.
I hope you're happy.
This thought strikes me often-
I want to crucify you.

Well done.

You've forced me to resort to relying on my old self.

I sincerely hope you've achieved the effect you wanted.

This one starts a little...
Strange.

One night,
I was washing my car,
Just getting rid of the pollen
And self-pity I had suppressed
For 3 weeks of quarantine

I'd just picked up the hose,
Just to wash off the dirt, the impurities
When my dog gave a quiet warning

I paused, holding a running hose
She didn't often give these
Except to me

Only to me
When she couldn't reach me
And she was worried for me

So of course I glanced at her
And she looked, exasperated
At best.

Like she couldn't believe
She'd ever considered the possibility
That I could be out in the dark by myself

But when I turned,
I couldn't see anything.
It was too dark.

But,
She could and she barked

So,
I turned again and spotted
A hint of light in our neighbours doorway
Just across the street

Somehow I felt eyes on me
And I let my light go out
Not without noticing that she was just as

Exasperated as before
Like a mother that couldn't believe
Her kid just tried to lick the wall, again

I casually turned off the water in the dark
And started up the stairs when she barked
The hair stood up on my arms.

It wasn't playful, it wasn't nice.
It was a warning, either to me or others, I didn't know
But she was about to jump the fence
And I knew her instincts well enough
that it wouldn't be good.

But then my partner opened the back door
Checking on me as I stepped onto the back porch
And she herded me indoors,
Granting a few glances across the street.

Somehow, I didn't find myself wallowing
In self-pity anymore.
I genuinely forgot a whole 3 weeks of it.

Instead I focused on the fact that my own dog
Had not only alerted me
But that shed somehow alerted my partner
While shuffling me inside with a chiding look.

When I was little,
I was quiet and,
I towed the line.

But now I realise
a little too late
That I'm a natural.

I tow the line,
Ignoring what you've thrown
No matter how much it
Hurts or takes from me.

I'll tow the line.
It's what I was taught.
but I don't think this is what they meant

You can be high,
I'll be low.
I'll tow the line.

It's going to be finished,
The project will be completed.
perfectly.

Because no matter what it takes,
I will tow the line.

I can't
Seem to settle
For less.

I told my boyfriend,
Just in passing,
I didn't think much of it at the time

Of a genuius move I'd come up with
On the fly

The tactic is:

When being chased by one
Who wants to do you harm
And you didn't exactly dress for a chase

Let your chaser get close-
But, only for a second
Then stop.

Calmly remove your shoes.
Pick them up.
Wait for your chaser to notice
Wait for him to back-track

And ****** take off
Run your heart out-
With your shoes safely tucked.

My boyfriend actually asked
If I'd outran them with my tactics
And I genuinely chuckled

I didn't think about it, to be honest.
Of course I did
How else could I be here
On the couch with you
With a dog that is serious about
Covering every bit of my torso with her body

I feel like I'm running towards
An ever moving finish line
And yet
This is how I learned to say no.

I won't apologise
And wonder why not

I won't lose sleep over it

And I'll smile

Then shut my eyes as you cut
My knees out from
Under me.

This is just how I learn to say no,
I'd rather hold my breathe for forever.

I wait for you to see what you've done.  
I wait for you to speak.
You do.

But you don't acknowledge me.

You go at your own leisure,
Don't you?

I am blinded.
I scream, and shout.

But I only destroy what was.

I can't take the reins,
But I can no longer wait.

I have developed a sense of self
That is solid.
It is dense.

Packed with years of
Abuse-not by my parents
But by people I willingly
Chose to surround myself with.

My sense of self
Is strong
It cannot be attacked.

But I often wonder if it is
Wrong.

Leave us alone,
God
Why can't you take a slap to the desk?

Yes, I said
Leave us alone
You hounding *******

So your parents didn't give you attention
So you got attached to my boyfriend
(way back when)

I don't care.

You know what's funny?
I used to feel sorry for you.
I used to feel the need to bend to your will
Because I felt bad for you.

No, he didn't cheat on you.
Let it go
No, he most definitely did not use me to cheat on you.
Let it the **** go

It ***** you decided to cheat on your new
Boyfriend.
It does. You're an awful human being.
But guess what?

It's not my ******* problem.
Mind your own, for once and stop trying to make my life difficult.

I'll make the same mistake as you
I'll f-k you over and over and over
And expect all of zero consequences

I actually hate to tell you this,
That is how it works with me.

Girlie

Compared to the fantasies that
You seem to be fond
Of spreading about me
When you're not spreading fantastical
And utterly impossible rumours
About me.

Why?
I might be arrogant
Or wise
Depending on your point of view.

Maybe it's because I was making terrible
Mistakes before you knew
Armpit from ***

Maybe it's because I was dating
Before you could
Spell your ABCs

Girlie

I won't let him go.
Y'know?

He says I'm a stubborn ***
And I tell him those are the same things

Fact is that,
We're the same age.
We're of the same understanding.

You were just a little too,
Well.
I guess, little.

Sorry.
Just be happy that
You're young
You're innocent

You might think you're broken
But I promise you're not.
I promise I'll fight to keep you
The same as I once was.

Young.
Innocent.

He just happened to be
The same age
The same amount
Of broken and betrayed
As me.



If it'd make you feel better
I can fix him
And **** me
And then you can have him

But, only after I'm gone.
Girlie.

I realise I've been in a gloom, a fog you can't lift.
I apparently won't let you, especially as I slept.

I seemed to have worn my own experiences, feelings, injuries-I thought I wore them like a badge of what I've overcome.

I was wrong.
I'm sorry that when you stopped me from bashing my head on a nightstand,
I repaid you in not only attempting to claw your eyes out,
But also the thrashing about, kicking you in your intimates.
I am especially sorry for wrapping my hands around your throat and trying to choke you.

You see, this you that I know and love and find comfort in.
He does not suddenly appear to save me from what has already happened to me.
I was out of options then.
Fight or flight, those were it.
And I picked fight.

Each night it seems I lose and I feel worse in the day.
I tried to stop him,
I kicked
I clawed
I even, actually, attempted to choke him,
But my hands were too small.

I was too small.
I feel powerless.

So now, consciously I make due with the cards I've been dealt.
I have no passion.
No fight.
I once walked through the fire. willingly and yet,
I feel nothing. I see the emotion. I mimic it.
But I am hollow now.
I have nothing anymore, lately.

So please, give me something to sing about.

I swear I'm not some
Sort of Mega-mind
Replica.

I'm neither the anti-hero
Nor the Hero
I am merely an extra.
A set piece, if you will.

I just have eyes
I just have an abnormal brain.
I just understand patterns.

I think that's why I've always
Had so many issues with
Symmetry.

You see, patterns
Make up life.
Humans are habitual patterners.

We like to shop at the grocery store.
We enjoy taking familiar streets.
We love seeing the same things everyday.

I'm not saying I take advantage
Of this.
I do it too.

I'm just saying
Our habits
Make it easier for me to
Understand us.

I like to think
That my hair
Is made of strands of hay
And cotton

Woven together beautifully
To form a bit of spun
Gold

I like to think
That my eyes
Are made of chestnuts
And moss

Pruned with tender loving care
To form a
Masterpiece of living beauty

Reflected Back with a
Curious gaze at you

I like to think
My lips were carefully painted
By God
To be a daunting
Ruby red.

But I know I am
Paled
I know I am greeted now
Dulled

No one wants used clothing
These days anyhow.

Black or white
The rivers have had their fun

They've finally done it.
Your countrys waters are murky.

They have torn it all asunder.
Muddling the waters with red
Poisonous elements to ensure
You are blind.

Child or not
I am blind too.

I wish I weren't.
I wish I was removed.
I had enough of the bloodshed for
Race and religion in Yugoslavia.

Your words will turn empty
They will fail on the deaf
Fall off the angry shields
And fists.
They always do.

But
Maybe you'll be the lucky ones
Maybe the system you fight for support
Will actually turn around for you.

I wish I could be Switzerland
I wish I'd never come to the U.S.
People here are just as terrifying
As they were at home over 20 years ago.

But I'm not a child anymore
So I can't use that excuse not to be involved
But, I'm scared.

I wish I could just go home instead.
Witnessing the history of violence
Taught me that it doesn't solve
It only angers more and more and more.

She scares me
Because I see so much
Of me in her.

So much of the
Broken and disheartened
Me within her

But then I remember
She didn't have to
Make excuses for her
Black eye at work.

Shes a fake.

She brandished
Copies. Fake plastic pieces
As a weapon against me.

Parading a cloak make of
All the cracks my heart felt
When my skull splintered
On a concrete kerb.

But she still scares me.
Because if she came to
My own wedding

I don't know if I could
Summon the anger to
Toss her out.

She's scary because
She pretends.
So well, that I almost believed
Her story

Until I realised it was mine
She stole it
She stole it and tried to pretend
My saviour was the cause
Of her collapse

I'm not going to lie.
She scares me.
She's not a psychopath.
She lacks an anti-social disorder.

She scares me because
She simply means to
Destroy me.

Let's try a hint of bluntness
Honesty.

When I was little
I didn't know
That the Redskins name
Was wrong.

No one taught me.
I knew it sounded weird
But not for anything heartwarming-
I thought more about cannibals
Wearing someone else's skin
Than about racial discrimination.

I wasn't able to pinpoint