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  Dec 2017 Zabada Zipporah
She Writes
If I could wake up tomorrow
And be someone new
I’d hope to be someone
That didn’t care about you

A person who wakes up
And smiles at the sun
Not a recluse
That hides from fun

Someone who looks in the mirror
And values themself
Not insecure
Loathing herself

I wish to be someone
Free as a bird
Not someone who cares
What others have heard

But when I wake up
I will still be me
Hoping and wishing
One day I’ll be free
  Sep 2017 Zabada Zipporah
Nylee
I constantly call them up
and cut before
they can reach their phone.
I have so much to tell them
but the voice,
it has nothing to say now.
I really want to communicate
the hurt I felt,
but really they do not deserve that.
It has always  been my problem
and they were part
that had shaped it certain way.
Maybe it was destiny playing its part,
karma leaving its mark,
or me just moving with the dark.
So now,
I leave yet another miss call,
and switched my phone off.
  Sep 2017 Zabada Zipporah
anon
i fell in love with a boy
who was fragile
like paper

in a way we were paper
together
i was falling apart
he was
sensitive
and vulnerable

this boy wasn't much
he was plain
save for a few typewriter smears
under his saddened eyes
and paperclip wings
adorning his back

we painted on each other

i covered him with strokes
of happiness
distractions
and a sense of
something
he was a brush upon me
reminding me of who we were
and what it meant to
know

he started to fall for me
the girl who was blown over
by a breeze
the girl who
thought eating was a bother
the girl who loved a boy
who was nothing more
than an intangible
whisper

then there we were
holding each other up
when the wind came
and took our painted bodies
ripped his paperclip wings from his back
tore our paper selves into shreds

we were blown into the world
strewn and lost

and apart

under tires
that tread terrible teeth
into our tiny pieces

stamped us into cement
and stole us
from what was

and now here we are
in what is

i can't pick myself up
because i don't know where i am
who i am
and where the paper boy i loved
has gone

out here is a world
where fragile love
and caring hearts
cannot bond
without loss
without being forgotten

just like
the paper boy
who smiled when he saw me
and who painted me into meaning

who saw
something
who
knew
who was
there
but now is
here

is

gone
Zabada Zipporah Jan 2017
It was way past 9 and Chrissy knew she shouldn't be on the phone,  but she didnt care. She'd been doing what she wanted to do lately.  Giggling with Bryant on the other end she heard footsteps and the bathroom door slam shut. "oh ****" she whispered, quickly hanging up the phone and turning it off. Sliding it under her pillow she heard the toilet flush and threw the covers over her face.
Her door creaked and in peered her uncle Dan.  He walked over to the bed and peeled the covers back just a tad leaving Chrissy's face uncovered, glanced and proceeded out to leave the door open.
She could hear him walk to the back to his son's room to repeat the same actions only changing at the end by closing his door.
Chrissy's heart began to beat fast thinking she would get caught, with ever step he took was another toss and turn she made in her bed. Trying to get just comfortable enough to face him.
Looking closely at the door,  chrissy began to question why he left her door open and why was he prolonging it,  why didnt he just ****** her phone and put her on punishment?
He stopped in her doorway and pulled his pants down, "what the ****? " chrissy thought to herself squeezing her eyes tightly while praying these were tricks and side effects from the **** she and Bryant smoked.
It was over fast and yet dragged along with every groan that escaped his lips. When he finished and finally closed her door she reached under her pillow and called Bryant historical, "i dont know what just happened B, all i know is he pulled his **** out "
Ive been doing these short stories lately so i guess ill post up.
Zabada Zipporah Dec 2016
Standing firm about 6tf tall with a wide body, dark brown bark and almost bare of leaves... There it was.. The tree back home
I could see it so clearly, yet so distant
Almost gripping the dirt in my hands

Youre just like the tree back home

Just as i remember it, healthy almost happy
Swaying in the wind, speaking a language only the broken can hear.
Dirt beneath my scraped knees
I'd listen under my sanctuary as it spoke knowledge through the wrestling of the leaves.

You've grown weary like the tree back home

After distance, uncomfortable changes, and birth of the new...
The world has chopped you down, to rebuild in your children.
Quick years they have grown, as you have grown older, as the tree has grown and bloomed again.
Falling before you i take in the wisdom of 1000 years, breathing the nature of the night.. I am a child again.

Just like the tree back home you make me feel like a kid...

I find trust in your strength like the trees regrowth.
You stretch me thin until i break reattach and grown again

You're the lonely tree that stands firm in my backyard ...
Rough draft
Zabada Zipporah Dec 2016
Standing firm about 6tf tall with a wide body, dark brown bark and almost bare of leaves... There it was.. The tree back home
I could see it so clearly, yet so distant
Almost gripping the dirt in my hands

Youre just like the tree back home

Just as i remember it, healthy almost happy
Swaying in the wind, speaking a language only the broken can hear.
Dirt beneath my scraped knees
I'd listen under my sanctuary as it knowledge through the wrestling of the leaves.

You've grown weary like the tree back home

After distance, uncomfortable changes, and birth of the new...
The world has chopped you down, to rebuild in your children.
Quick years they have grown, as you have grown older, as the tree has grown and bloomed again.
Falling before you i take in the wisdom od 1000 years, breathing the nature of the night.. I am a child again.

Just like the tree back home you make me feel like a kid...

I find trust in your strength like the trees regrowth.
You stretch me thin until i break reattach and grown again

You're the lonely tree that stands firm in my backyard ...
Rough draft
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