Some people are lost
And wish only to be found
But what is the cost
Of wandering around?

I prefer to be senseless
Without a direction
Moving through countless
Ways of deception

Truly, being found, is not what it seems
It's people describing you, driving to screams
I'd wander the oceans, rivers, and streams
Rather than stand in the assigned spot for me

I am a mere puppet
A meagre tool to be controlled
To achieve what they covet
I must do as I told

I am a wounded bird
The wings that I am proud of
Forcefully ripped by their words
Broken by their abusive love

I am an innocent prisoner*
Heavily chained, both my hands and feet
Dripping bloods of red, you get the picture
Can’t escape, trapped by their deceit

Inside of me you started a fire
That was done by your lovely lighter

One that was soon to die out
For my thoughts were thought to be too loud

Its easy to bring silence on the mind
When you been shot up in the spine too many times

Not with a gun but a medicine needle
Proving the fact that we were never equal

Maybe you should string my corset a little tighter
After all I never been much of a fighter

Don't think of me as weak
I express my self in the form of pen and ink

I'm starting to break free of this prison
In a form that doesn't require the color of crimson

And if I don't succeed ill give you the key
To write my name in the diary of defeat

It might take endless amounts of attempts
But I can't live much longer with this noose around my neck

Like telling a smoker to give up cigarettes
You might as well quit and forget

Ill disappear without a notice
That will be my one and only promise

And while your standing there alone
You'll then identifi what I failed to shown

After all, before I viewed a "play"
It was all just an "imatation"
I thought...
The "imatation" was myself
I put on an act to push myself to death to please my parents without my own objective.
I thought life was something already decided for me.

as a lock i am content.
smooth metallic surface skin
(perfect shiny smooth so i smile)
mechanics behind eyes
mouths hands ankles
special functions each. i feel
content with my place, i feel
satisfied with my perceptions,
i am fulfilling my
daily roles, my existence
is justified, i feel physically
full – not from the stomach but from
the guts, not with food but with
blood like a rush-reaction
heating up, flushing red
like my lips after what we did
on my bed on saturday
(always slightly on edge with our
programmed satellite ears extended out
in case some innocent wandered in)

everything in its right place
my plodding daily satisfaction
(to satisfy mysthesystemelf)
no happy hours but happy days,
healthy children, healthy lifestyle
feeling pure and therefore proper
and therefore all is well.
i repeat. all is well.

i woke up today turned on
the coffee giant poured a cup,
drank the tar pleasantly surprised
by a peck on the cheek from my
husband_ kids sent off to school_
stayed at home all day_ husband
off to work_ came home, he came home_
i had a lovely day, thank you,
obligatory post-dinner ***
and
as a lock i am content.

Anger, Sorrow, Happiness, Jealousy
Gears of my personality
Rotating in the commotion
Shifts in  the air making it hard to breathe

Leaving should be easy but
Makes me queasy

Felt the warmth radiate off you,
Hands touching the skin on my cheek,
Your voice vibrating through my body

"YOUR MY *****!"

The thought of him makes me itch