The deepest secret

that I never told

was that I killed a child

when I was thirteen.

She was bright

and dreamed

of space travel

and of inventing fantastic machines.

I yanked her from

her fluffy bed,

dragged her to the living room,

turned on the TV.

I stabbed her eyes

with a steely knife

formed of 

pictures

of sand dunes and 

of tanks exploding.

And I whimpered to her

as darkness

replaced the life that bled from her:

"That is where your daddy is"

I took a gun

and shot her ears

with the cries

of starved children

and the shrieks of vultures

ready to devour.

And I screamed at her

through salty tears:

"It's too late for you to save them!"

Her knees wobbled

somehow still alive

on life support

from the small light of hope

that drove her youthful soul.

And so I mustered

the shred of strength -or fear- left of me,

to explain

in a soft whisper

that some people

lose all hope

that they extinguish their light

entirely.

And at this, her color drained

from red

to white

to blue,

the same colors

as it happens

that her father

could be wrapped in.

I killed a child

when I was thirteen.

I killed a child

and that child was me.

#ProseChallenge #DeepestSecrets

Brothers in chains

Sisters in pain

The hurt and lost

Counting the cost

A slave wants to be free

If you're asking me

I'll stand by your side

I'll stand up and stride

I'll fight for you

If you need me to

This post was inspired by the A21 campaign and the fight against human trafficking. I'm participating in #WalkForFreedom this fall and have the link for details in my bio. 

Heart Hopping

Dashing dear, here comes a man

who slams me gently on the wall

yet kisses me hard.

Exactly the way I want it.

But I have to let him loose.

Ravaging dear, here comes a man

who riles me up, consumes me down

yet cares for me deeply.

Just exactly what I wish for.

But I have to let him go.

Fancy dear, here comes a man

who's seduction never fails,

kisses me right through my feet up to my nape.

Exactly what my body needs.

But I let him go away.

Reckless dear, many men still came.

But no more than temporary bliss.

I have my own and I need no man.

For all of them only fills their own ego,

and they weren't close to what I long for.

Love. Maybe it wasn't for me.

Why do I have the privilege to be happy,

When so many people are suffering

Why do I get the Privilege to have someone,

When many have no one

Why do I get the privilege to have food,

When so many people are starving

Why do I get the privilege to have a roof over my head,

When a child has doesn't even have a bed

Why do I get the privilege to have shoes,

When someone is trying to find a pair

Why do I have the privilege to have parents,

When a child is crying cause there's died

In times like these I should remember I have everything I need and to not ask for more.

I should be ThankFul ❤️

The universe surrounds me with some bittersweet chaotic mist. Flailing out alone and misguided amongst the stardust and debris.  Helpless to it all.  For fate is the fortune of the beasts within.  Paths that I shall never again cross and roads I shall never take. Highways I should have never driven and cemetarys desecrated with the remains of the too soon dead. 

But tonight I shake my head at the falling star and breathe in the hysteria. As I burn beneath a Summer Moon. Yet again lost to this world and yet so very content

These walls hear dreams.

As one goes, white noise follows

Into these rooms, and it reverberates

From ceiling to

Corner and corner and

Back again.

Louder, it grows

As notes add on.

In the bare brush of feet

Along this carpet,

In the faint strains

Of this song or another,

In the cracking of these

Sore knuckles,

In the pre-recorded applause

Of late night with

Insert name here,

In the rustle of weight

Shifting and sheets moving,

In the bangs of falling things

And muffled curses from

Hurting others,

In the clicking of a pen

And the jingle of

Keys,

In the rush of a door

Slam shaking the foundation,

In the scraping of a fork 

And drip of 

A leaky faucet,

In the riotous laughter

Outnumbered by the 

Soft pull of tissues

From a box,

Collectively it is the whole of

An existence.

Decipher the static and

All you will hear

Is a life, in these

Small sounds.