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Six children and a suburban home
Don't it hurt you to see me like this?
One of yours, and still so alone?

First daughter assigned third wife
I've done it all wrong again,
Haven't I?

Sprawled all across this spiky green turf
Drinking up the merciless sunshine
Trying to keep it down

Weeping about my friend's father
Watching for a hint of remorse in your stern frown
I wait for you to ask for my forgiveness
Go on, ask
Let me for once be the one to deny
Mrs Timetable Jan 31
Sometimes
I want to go back
In time
Collect everyone
I've ever known
And loved
And as a child  
Put them in a box
And keep them
Protected forever
If only

(Contributed)
Jade Dec 2023
Was she actually clingy?

Or was she reasonable in her response
when you neglected her?

Was she really needy?

Or were you just incapable
of meeting her needs?
Jeremy Betts Dec 2020
I can't trust my mind or my heart like you can't trust a post laxative ****
Seems like they've both been plotting against me from the start, planning to steal this soulful art
Like they know when it comes to the afterlife, reincarnation plays a big part
And with the knowledge and comfort of that truth they're ready to scrap me now like bad art
A defective throw away product that seems to have been bought at a dollar general corner mart
Then pushed around in a stolen grocery cart till interest fades and goes dark
I have to find the right end with no place to start, close my eyes and toss a dart
Then keep the blindfold on and let you tell me the score, not smart
Last time I trusted either of you ya fed me the equivalent of a week old shart
Through a feeding tube that I didn't need according to my hospital chart
Neglecting real issues when there's endorphins to bogart, losing my mind, watching my soul depart
I've lost and broken the both of you yet you still torment me, not even phased by my rampart
I never stood a chance, oblivious to the warning siren like Mozart, silent as I'm pulled apart
No one will think back on me but if they do I'll just be seen as another failed upstart

©2020
Chelsea Quigley Nov 2023
I am useless,
Clueless,
Naive
And foolish.

I am a child
Of chance.
A night of romance.

I am an early-morning
Call,
A surprise to all,

Aren't I, mother?

One that can use no tool.
A waste to the teacher,
Within a school.

Aren't I, father?

A child
'Out of control'.
Seemingly 'too old'
To be consoled.

But alas,
You wish for connection.
How should I know of it?

I am prone to rejection.

Subjection,
To your own mistake.
A choice you made.

The icing on the cake.

But now I am far
Away from your pain.
For I live in worth,

As you live in shame.
Anais Vionet Oct 2023
Thrice about the cauldron go
and answer me, if it be known.

Untie the words and give them form,
dissect the ingredients of ******’s charm.

A new tradition has traction gained,
a tradition of alienated masculine pain.

Where insults demand their due in blood,
in schools, stores and quiet neighborhoods.
Chelsea Quigley Oct 2023
We are
Born and bred
Into a life of dread.
We are oblivious
To concept,
Shaken by
Small upset.

We rely
On a human touch,
To feel at ease,
A pure ecstasy
To us.

A gentle hold,
Small movement
To and fro.
Whispers of gold,
From the depths
Of a human soul.

But we grow
And learn of self
Love,
Yet still yearn
For human touch.

But some
Do not recieve.
They must suffer
Neglect,
Lack of affection,
As one to another
Is hurt by rejection.

How purity
Is seen as weak,
Bleak,
And tossed by authority.

A desire so
Ravenous,
Brushed away
By whom we thought
Established us.

For one cannot live
In this manner of such,
As a soul becomes empty
Without the human touch.
Chelsea Quigley Oct 2023
Creative,
Joyous,
Carefree.

A life of a child
Is nothing but a mix of the three.

For when a child grows
And speak from their souls,
Connection is lost,
Becoming unknown.
Leaving the child to bear alone.

We mimic tradition,
Refuse to listen,
To the little ones who
See us as reason.

And as your little child cries,
You spew great lies;

'You have no place here in this family!'

You have abandoned them,
And Ridiculed them
To the highest of degree.

But all for reason,
That they are not the vision
you wish for them to be.
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