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Sophie Grey Sep 2014
the doctors say
i'm not okay
that it's a miracle
i met today
but i take my pills
every night
i sleep and i dream
i wake and i fight
maybe i'm a mess of lights
of leather too tight but
i do alright.

the dog catchers
dangle bones
in front of my cage
but i won't bite.

my skin's a battlefield
my soldiers won't yield
and time has worn holes
in my steel-woven shields.

yet every day, i lace up my shoes
i outfit my army, though i know it will lose
i eat my dinner, i brush my teeth
and i try my hardest
to fall asleep


s.h.
Sophie Grey Sep 2014
more scars than stories,
more guts than glory.
thanks to the reaper's trusty scythe
we carved ourselves a counterfeit life.

cold like the winter, strong like the rain,
stickin' out the summer, we smile through the pain.
so dish it out, i can take it
and if i can't, i can fake it.

don't you move, or i'll pull this trigger;
i may not be fast, but you're small and i'm bigger.
if you can't do it, it can't be done.
i won't change for anyone.


s.h.
Sophie Grey Sep 2014
little girl with big dreams,
ambition bursting through the seams.
dark chocolate easter egg eyes
cautious whispers, quiet lies

she's a shadow girl, shrouded in grief
from her lips to the tip of her tongue to her teeth.
stucco soul, hardwood heart,
lips together, legs apart.

caught fast in this steel trap,
surrendering to the acid's attack.
she's addicted, obsessive,
it's intrinsic, embedded.

despair, denial, a child reviled
a dark heart of secrets as deep as the nile.
a poisonous princess, a toxic traitor;
three drinks later and she's
south of the equator.


s.h.
Sophie Grey Sep 2014
the fist-shaped hole in the wall
the apologies that followed
the bruised and bleeding knuckles
the bathroom littered with plaster wrappers
the sink sizzling with hydrogen peroxide
the empty box of painkillers
the wedding ring thrown to the floor
the little girl who watched through the keyhole


s.h.
Sophie Grey Jul 2014
choo choo trains
and little toasters
have more strength
and determination
than my entire 19
years on this
planet
have.
2014
Sophie Grey Jul 2014
sticks and stones
may break my bones
(but words will never hurt me)


people stare when we hold hands, they glare and point and scream in whispers behind cupped palms. sometimes they applaud or congratulate us, but i hate that, too; i don't want to be brave or strong or special i just want to kiss you without glancing left and right first. boys in parking lots shout and whistle, cars honk but WE'RE RUBBER YOU'RE GLUE, IT BOUNCES OFF US AND STICKS TO YOU so guess what- you're the *****, you're the *******, you're the freaks, you have to change the pronouns in your poetry, you are afraid of churches, you were listed in The Diagnostic And Statistical Manual Of Mental Disorders as a "sociopathic personality disturbance" until its seventh edition. if i had a nickel for every time a mother hurried a child away from us on the street, i might have enough money to sue one or two of you for harassment and hate.


s.h.
2014
Sophie Grey Jul 2014
the wind beats
against my windows:
bends trees
weakens knees
can't sleep

but rain and hail
and thunder fail
to steal your slumber.

my dreams are iron,
yours are silver steel
as long as you keep
the bedroom sealed
your ears open,
your eyes
peeled



s.h.
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