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  Nov 2018 Butterfly
Invisible
I

Hear

Voices

In

My

Head.

Am

I

Losing

My

Mind?

Save me.
Not actually going crazy, but sometimes I feel like I already am.
  Nov 2018 Butterfly
Emily Miller
My father walked me down the aisle,
But my mother held my arm.
He went with me,
But we went not towards the altar,
But towards the door.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And the ***** rang through the church,
Humming through the elaborate crown molding,
Carved by my ancestors.

He went,
Not beside me,
But before me,
And I watched,
As he was illuminated by the bright,
Overbearing,
Texas sun.

My father walked me down the aisle,
But I did not wear white.
My father walked me in silence,
And I shed tears not for a man standing at the altar,
But for the one I would never see again.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And no veil obscured my face.
All eyes were upon me, but not for my pristine beauty,
Instead for my clenched jaw and furrowed brow,
Severe and fierce to distract from my glassy eyes.

My father did not leave me at the end of our walk to sit beside my mother.
She clung to me for support and sobbed breathlessly,
Loudly,
Unavoidably,
And I carried her with one hand,
My sister the other,
And walked towards my future.
A future family,
Not one person more,
But one person less.
I walked,
One final time,
With him.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And I will never forget it.
Hundreds of eyes isolating my family from the crowd,
Slow and muffled sounds drowning in the deafening beat of my heart,
Blurred faces staring,
Black heels clacking against the cobbled path from the church,
The anguished wails of my mother,
The whimpering of my sister,
And the wooden box that glided before us,
Pulling,
A string tied to our patriarch,
The pin key of our family,
Pulled taut and then snipped with the slam of the hearse doors.

My father walked me down the aisle,
Before I had a chance to grow up.
He walked me,
Out of the church,
Away from the altar,
Never to be walked again.
When reality finally hits you it hurts
When the truth comes into focus it’s brutally painful.
Hope isn't always enough
It’s not always a happy ending.
What happens when faith is not enough?

I get hot flashes
My depression splashes
My soul is cold like stone,
the fear of being alone.

So now I lay me down to sleep
I pray you lord my soul to keep
Don’t let me die before I wake
I pray you lord my soul do not take.

I barely have a past
And may have no future
       Empty pages of a book
       A story left unwritten
       A life left unlived
       A hope left in the dust.
Please don't take me yet
Your mercy you won't regret
I am down on my knees
Begging you please
Don’t take me away.

At night I dream a misty graveyard
A tombstone the name I cannot see
A flashlight in the darkness
A figure so lifeless I cannot breathe.
Then I awake not as fearless as I may seem.

If this is my future
And if it comes to pass
And this breath be my last
Then this thought to you I cast.

What if faith is not enough?
Then life would be rather tough
With nothing to believe in
And nothing to justify
Nothing to keep you sane
Nothing to grasp when you fall
You will have nothing,
nothing at all.

Sometimes that is how I am
Falling in the darkness
With nothing to take hold
This feeling leaves me cold
hearted, soulless, empty.
All I feel is the pain of being unreal
No one knows how this life feels,
when you are so lifeless.

So now I lay me down to cry
I pray you lord you can't let me die.
Now I lay me down to sleep
Close my eyes without a peep
Never to be opened again.

Your body goes warm then cold like rain
Slowly your body numbs,
to your fingers and your thumbs.
As your body stops working, you feel the cold mist of death
And peacefully while you’re sleeping you take your final breath.
Read more at http://www.******-in-oncology.com

© 2016 Christine Mulvihill
There just isn't enough febreeze
to rid the room of the haze
Of a dog ****, strong and silent
It kind of puts you in a daze

It kind of sneaks in, then it hits you
An olfactory h-bomb in your face
Meanwhile, he just lies there
He's wiped the room with **** mace

There is no middle ground here
They always smell like something died
Like he caught a squirrel in the garden
Now, it's rotting his insides

Dog farts, are a weapon
That our army has not used
In fact I told them in a letter
In their reply, they were amused

"We've tried to duplicate it"
"A killer weapon... stops the heart"
"But, our scientists just aren't able"
"To reproduce a strong dog ****"

"Thank you for your consideration"
"We'll let you know, if we succeed"
"We agree with your kind letter"
"dog farts escape and then they breed"

Sometimes when a dog farts
It makes a noise, he turns around
"my god, I smell incredible"
is the look comes from my hound

So, if you've never smelled a dog ****
And your dog just sneaks one out
Do yourself a favour
Do not feed him brussel sprouts.
Butterfly Nov 2018
I try to pray to you,
Oh God,
I try to pray.

I yearn to hear from you,
Oh Lord,
Hear what you say.

There's much to talk about,
My God,
Too much to say.

But how can I step to you,
Knowing how much I've strayed?

How do I kneel before you,
With this weight?

I judge me,
more harshly than you judge me.
More than one ought to be judged.

For I see the missteps that I take,
And the mistakes that I make.

Deliver me,
Oh God,
From my unforgiveness.

Save me from my personal hell.
Butterfly Nov 2018
I don't want to tell a soul about all the crap that I've been going through.

But sometimes I wish some intuitive person would just stop and leave a word of encouragement.
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