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Panda Jan 21
As a grape I was in shock

As a pear I was enraged

As an apple I was embarrassed

As a grapefruit I was ashamed

As a pineapple I was depressed

As a watermelon I was a mess

But when he came out a babe, things fell into place

Away fled the shame as love took its place
Ezra, born 9/10/2018
Blake Jan 5
You weren't right then because of my age,
You weren't right then because of my situation,
You're not right now because of my circumstances,
But your there,
Inside me
Growing
Maybe we can not be so right together finally
as mother and daughter x
Isaac Ward Dec 2018
I'm gunna be a dad!
And I'll admit, I'm a little scared,
I had never dared or dallied that-
Fatherhood may be my next hat,

My love and I aren't married yet,
Not that I will ever regret,
I'll bet on our love and firmly wait-
With sights on our wedding day,

And to our baby, precious dear,
We await you with joy and cheer,
We promise, we will always adore-
And cherish you, forever more.
Jack Red Dec 2018
Naive to the depravity
She takes it all in
One night of fun
No future shall be thought of.
Full with life and relief
She takes it all in
A night of pleasure and nothing to lose.

She feels the rumbles while she fumbles,
And she tumbles and bumbles
Not a care in the world
Not a consequence to think of
She takes it all in.

The morning rays pierce the window
With no desire for the fun to end,
Once again, to make it last
She takes it all in.
“Oops”.
Christy Lei Nov 2018
not a
white lily
but a heavy
plastic stick —
imagine myself as
an archangel holding
his scale and weighing
souls on the judgement day:
a palm-up blessing, like someone
sitting on a golden throne, watching
the ****** being separated from the saved.
(the **** is getting cold)
a medieval triptych: endoderm, ectoderm,
mesoderm, just egg tempera on panel,
not pan-fry-able, but nutritious still.
wet chicken, severed dandelion
heads fluttering in the air

now it is lighter,
a feather in
my hand,
a pink
line.
cassie marie Nov 2018
nine months
i cared for you
missing classes for appointments
the shame of having to tell my parents
the constant reminder that i have to do this alone

but with pain
comes beauty
knowing that i will be young
ill get to spend a long time with you
it's me and you till the end.

i had to learn to care for you and myself.
without that one word.
with four letters.
and one syllable.
would i know,
how to be a mother.
this is dedicated to my mother because why the **** not.
Mom
Trying to find solace in the suburbs
when everything seemed superb
like that cookie-cutter,
picket fence,
faux fur mentality
they instill at the start

Just an infant with scars
He reached for her baby bump,
Then slammed it hard
onto the stairwell
She fell, wept, and held
That lil princess
and prayed she'd never have the same ****

All grown up. Alive and well
shes got different demons
different intricate cells
It's been said
she is special      she is awake
But, in many ways
She is the same

As that ANGEL who carried her 23 years ago
That's debt I'll always owe
A gift I'll never own
Carefully Constructed
and Creatively Sewn
shoved a soul into that shell
That'll one day guide her back home


Shes got her mamas tough, yet gentle heart
her smile, brevity and love for art..
she can write her *** off
like her
the wrote and the writ

Yet she's plagued by guilt
every ******* minute
GUILT for the life that she'd been given
GUILT  for each exhale emitted
She prays that God will have the sense
to go back in time and hit OMIT
(on all chapters even close to the word 'human'
there's GUILT for feeling guilty even more for despising your own )
"I must've slipped through the gate, admit it!
Or recruit another for your mission
regretfully, I must solicit
that I'm not fit for this position


I'm no hero
I'm the villain
If ya look close you'll see
I spit venom"
Mama walks in
smiles and says
"WE.
ARE.
WOMEN!"
"Betta recognize and
quit your *******'
as of today, you are living..
You are loved
You are safe
You are ******* winning

WARRIOR,
CREATOR,
QUEEN,
GODDESS,
INCARNATE..
We are strength & We are the faith
never to be broken
but we still stay brave


The Legend wont start
or end with you
Its a fight stretched out
through  time
You will understand soon
No matter how much you ask
"WHY"
It wont stop circumstance
wont stop lies
wont stop suffering
and will NEVER compromise

Your in the way of the wave, child
This.....  the secret to life
When in the way of the wave...
its only a matter of time
S0 if youre searching for solace
Will you promise
To memorize this line
Written for and dedicated to my mother.. we've always been at odds. This entire scenario I wrote is hypothetical, but for some reason it comforts me to make up pep talks from her and this is my favorite one Ive come up with so far. So wherever you are mom...thank you for everything..this one is just for you.
Brooke Nov 2018
Most days, I don’t know strong.
Not the lift my arm, flex my guns type of strong, because you and I both know that I can barely do a push up.
So I never really know much about that type of strong.

I’m talking about the type of strong that will keep this a secret, and still crush me.
Demand me into silence, teeth and jaw and fist.
So I will fold it and shove it underneath my pillow.
The type of strong that forces me to beg you.
And I will beg you to let me hold onto this.
Let me hold onto this like it’s the last part I have of you.
Don’t make me go to that clinic, I beg you, let me look into the mirror and see a mother, not a graveyard.

You see, I keep finding my hand on my stomach.
My fingers tracing the letters to everything their name could’ve been, on the skin under my belly button.
I press my palm against my flesh, and I can feel a heartbeat but I know it’s my own that echoes through these veins.
And at the end of the day, our hearts beat as one.
So when their heart stops, I wonder if mine will too.

I know the type of strong that will go back and forth on my decision a million times,
and I’m sorry that I keep telling you I’m keeping it,
but I can’t seem to shake this uncertainty and regret and I wish this weren’t the case.
I wish I had the kind of strong that prepared me for those two pink lines.
It breaks me that this is goodbye before I even knew hello, and I’m never going to meet them.

They could have your eyes, and they could have my nose.
And at three weeks, their heart started to beat.
And at four weeks, I was running out of my english classroom, because morning sickness decided to check in.
Now I’m sitting in social studies, and you’re sitting across from me, and a girl asks,
“Why do the abortion protestors come to a high school?”

I hope you saw my jaw clench, and my eyes close.
Because now my brain is running through everything I wish I had done differently,
and everything that I wish I had been strong enough for.

You see, I wish that I had the strong that allowed me to go against what was best for you, to do what was right for me.
But my strong just leaves me wondering if it were a boy or a girl.
My strong makes me want to go to walmart and buy those glow in the dark stars, stick them to the ceiling of my room, and call it a nursery.
My strong reminds me of when I was little, and my mom put pigtails in my hair.
My strong looks like tired eyes, in a bed made of sheets that needed to be washed two weeks ago.
It looks like a seventeen year old girl, that wants to go to graduate high school, but she has to be anxious about mifepristone, before she can be anxious about university acceptance.
My strong makes me feel like I’m losing a piece of myself, and my soul is being ripped from my body.
I don’t know a strong that is enough for what I need it to be.

My strong tells me to apologize, but I don’t know how many more sorrys I can give out.
I’m sorry to bring you into this.
I’m sorry that I told you.
I’m sorry that I’m scared.
I’m sorry that I can’t bring a little more of you, and a little more of me into this world.
That they will never see the blue skies, or the green fields, or the yellow flowers.
They will never know the sweet songs that you sing, or the warm chortle of your laugh, like a fire that burns through a forest of sorrow. They will only know my cries, and my sadness, and this black cloud that floats around me and screams storms when I hold my belly.
My strong tells me that this is more than just taking a pill.
It tells me that this is death,
do I need to write an obituary?

You tell me that I am so strong,
but the door to the abortion clinic is so heavy,
and I can barely do a push up.
This comes from a place of complete desperation. Because I was alone in my journey, and I needed someone to hear me.
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