Keep telling me that I’m your oxygen,
While you don’t believe I’m a cancer,
I sometimes wish I didn’t know you,
So you can sip on someone’s sweet oxygen,
And I remain a cancer.

Keep consoling me that I’m a good cancer,
A cancer that cures cancer,
I tell you that you are my oxygen,
But I reject inhaling you like a lung cancer,
Or deny your existence like an odd brain cancer.

Keep trying me, over and over, but you’ll tire,
And accept that you’re sweet oxygen,
And I’m a deadly cancer,
The process of acceptance is painful for us both,
Ironically, like a cancer.

Fire pit
Burn bright
Light up guy fawkes night
Warm, and bright
Crackling with sparkling,
cinder light
Keeping aura's
buring bright, on this,
gunpowder plot night
1605
Conspirators alive
Crackling Crackling,
still here to strive,
cinders warm and,
alive.

© 2020  Carol Natasha Diviney

A young schoolgirl stays by Uncle’s creepy loft
Cause blood stains her leg like abstract art
Uncle did more than touch her private part
Won’t be victim but miss school for 2$ cloth