Oh, infinitely beautiful girl
you are not alone

she wrote with
scarlet lipstick on her mirror

But words alone
don't
change hearts

and she was infinitely
unhappy

cursed

doomed

All the boys and men
said yes
to her

but her brother still
said no

The first tears fell
When I entered the bright cold room
Doctors handed me to my mother

Tears fell again
When I entered the bright cold room
To say goodbye to her
The one I knew, loved, and cherished

Tears fell once more
When we put her in the ground
The dirt smelled of rain
And our eyes full of pain

Poetry is no more than a wish list.

bonfire night is here fireworks burning bright
high up in the air lighting up the night
children gather round watching the display
waving all there sparklers happy bright and gay.

watching all the fires as there set alight
faces all a glow filled with such delight
a very special night one we will remember
that we celebrate on the fifth day in november

Don't dream big.
The lottery ticket
your holding has no numbers !

I'm losing pieces from me
And I'm suffering.
I can't get them back
I can't remember.
Are all the happy memories I made,
Just a waste?
I won't be able to remember them anyway.

Not of ancient lore,
or some cross to bear.
But here. But now.
No Prince Charming
at the castle door.
Only her, Miss Damsel herself.
In some paper city,
called Zilch,
where things fall apart fast.
She's trapped in no tower,
but a loft instead.
With tin-foil crown,
she climbs across
the kitchen table
to slay the dragon,
in the flames
of his own black-hearted
bedevilment.
A dagger to the heart
of the matter,
and all is quiet again.
Then with a satisfied yawn,
she retires for her afternoon nap.

Introverts aren't really loners: 
     
They are busy socializing with   
their innumerable friends,     
called 
  
Thoughts...