I'm trapped in a bean

If you know what I mean

Maybe you don't...

Maybe I don't... 

The hard shell encloses me

Protecting from life's clarity

But also shutting out everything else

It might be time to find myself

I take a tentative step out

Then two more to prove my clout

To myself, of course

Now stepping in fours

Striding, running before my courage is gone

Leaping out, the world is not so bad, I was wrong

I am a jumping bean in a new land

The best things are the ones not planned.

I keep everything locked down

Face a blank slate

Hair kept down plain and brown

Don't draw attention, calm, quiet state

Never yell or get mad

Answer questions when asked

Don't like to speak, never had

But The Beast wants to be unmasked

Staring at the chalkboard,watching it grow spots

Know The Beast is coming 'cause I'm starting to get hot

Suddenly can't catch my breath, grip my desk extra hard

Ask myself again and again, Why was I dealt this card?

Perseverance, sheer terror, or maybe both help me hang in there

I tilt my head forward and breathe, a hanging brown curtain of hair

I fight to stay conscious until it finally passes

Just have to be prepared so I can get through my classes

Battle with the Beast four or five times a day

8 years ago the doctor told me it would go away

But as long as it doesn't get me at school

It's really not so irritating or cruel

Two hearts beat in tandem

Same interests, all random

Together wherever we are

Because when you are far

And I am near

Your beating heart and whispering lips

Is all I hear

My other half gone for a time

While I put thoughts into rhyme

My soul mate, my missing piece

Until you return this feeling does not cease

A figure stands in the road and no one stops. The blinding yellow raincoat assaulting skies that threaten rain with its radiant color. So out of place against the blacktop and dark green infringing forest. But one car stops, an out of towner, he doesn't know any better.

The townspeople whisper, gathered around a fire, the legend of Jane. Betrayed by her cruel husband, losing the love of her life to another woman and, finally, the revenge that followed. Nothing could be proven, Jane was freed. She wanted to let everyone know just what she thought of them, too. How she had gotten away with murder, and how she would again and again and again..... They knew not to stop because one person had made that mistake. It was common knowledge how she had killed Betty Prue. Without mercy or remorse. And, reportedly, many others. Again, nothing could be proven. But now Jane's eyes are alight. At first this had started as revenge, but now it was almost...enjoyable, euphoric, indescribable! The car slowed to a stop, the shining blue paint job contrasting with Jane's coat. A man with stubble and a kind face rolled down the window, his shirt revealed broad shoulders and arms that knew hard work. Perfect, he deserved what was coming to him. Jane thought he looked like the kind of man who handed out bulletins in the back of the church, or went to his local recycling plant to thank them for their good work. Some people were too good for this world... He smiled cluelessly, "Do you need a lift?" Jane nodded quickly, "That would be excellent, thank you." He opened the door and she stepped daintily inside. "Where do you need to go, ma'am?" His eyes sparkled, wanting to help. It sickened her, making her stomach turn over. This one needed to go, and soon! She directed him to a small cabin obscured by a stand of trees. Dramatically, she exited the vehicle and feigned a sprained ankle. He immediately rushed to her aid, helping her inside. He settled her onto the sofa and smiled. "Anything else?" Jane smiled sickly, "Yes." She leaped up and locked the door, turning her pistol on him. "Go down the stairs, and nobody gets hurt." The man's eyes were wide but he went down to the basement. He saw chains and contraptions so he turned to plead with her. "Please just let me leave!" Jane laughed ,a harsh sound, "You won't be leaving here alive." To drive home her point she knocked him on the head with her pistol and he crumpled. She set to chaining him up before he woke. The man must escape her madness, but can he survive her sick games? Betty Prue and all the others before could not. Maybe he will be the one to finally end Jane's reign of terror.

Everyone lives for that Thanksgiving meal

Where life grinds by on a crumbling wheel

Tradition is safe, tradition is sound

Distract from the secret buried underground

No one notices the odd heap of earth

In the backyard, like the dirt giving birth

"Pass the potatoes" or "Pass the peas"

Ignore your cousin's dirt-caked knees

Reach for the knife, he offers it to you

Remain calm, slowly swallow then chew

A red hue is layered under each of his nails

Aunt Judy recounts her childhood tales

Laughing, the forced hollow kind, fills the crowded room

I can't help peering out the window at the earth's wound

My cousin waves at me, "Earth to Emma.", and grins

Proudly he wears the deed on his sleeve, cowardly sins

I feel sick and stand, "He killed her! You all saw!"

All my family members turn to stare at me in awe

Aunt Judy jumps up, "You know we don't discuss this!"

My cousin grabs me, "You're one I'll never even miss."

The whole family joins in removing me from the table

Dragging me to the yard,I try to escape but am unable

That was my last Thanksgiving spent in this world

The Thanksgiving the family secret was unfurled.

Broken

Words unspoken

Tears unshed

Emotions trapped in the head

Closing in and in

A spiralling din

Clanging in the skull

Leaving an empty hull

Where nothing ever entered

Raw abuse, uncensored

Throw bad in the void

Nervous, jumpy, paranoid

Expect the unexpected

Know life is disrespected

Absorb the pain

For others' gain

I learned to shoot today. Not out of a great yearning for knowledge, but out of necessity. I can reload in 26.9 seconds. My sister can do it in 28. I try not to think too much about what that could mean for her...  My family freeze dries all of the food we have that is not stored in a can. Will we ever taste fresh fruit again? We'll tell our grandchildren tales of apple juice and sweet, dripping mangoes. They will laugh and call it a legend, simply a tall tale. Our neighbor is infected. She can no longer form words, just hisses. Banging all day long against the walls of her house where we decided we had to lock her in. No one had the grit to shoot her, she was so nice. But tonight, after that moaning and snarling all day, someone just might lose it...  I would like to put my thoughts into poetry form before this terrible catastrophe consumes my writings. Maybe it already has.

I hope we live

For generations ,to give

A world worth saving

A golden road we're paving

Or will we leave blood and gore?

A blackened dead earth, no more.

The spurs clanking across the floor

Are from a time long before

When rough riders ruled the streets

And women hung linen sheets

But here I sit in the night of present day

Hearing spurs in the attic that decided to stay

I settle against the wall to decide

Should I sit here and wait, run and hide?

A sudden swarming of lights in my vision

Voices speaking, muffled, I strain to listen

"No dear, I simply can't leave it that way."

A woman says, "He wants to make you stray."

The man's voice replies,"I follow the law of the land."

The woman's voice rose," More like the law of western man."

Suddenly spurs clank and a door slams hard in the frame

The woman says aloud,"He just seeks to bring us shame!"

Loud popping sounds one, two ,three...

The temperature in the room drops a degree

Darkness, then nothing, I am back in the room

Where the spurs keep pacing with a persistent boom.

"My sweet." He whispers as he strokes my hair

I look up and conceal my shudder

"Please, let me go... I'll be good."

He shakes his finger like I am a naughty dog

"No, no. That just won't do. You know that."

Hiding my frustration I turn to the cellar wall

His brow furrows, then he grabs my arms in his vice-like grip

I struggle but it is no use, he drags me to the shackles on the wall

"This is for your own good." I nod uselessly, straining against the chains

"How about I read you a story, the princess one?"

I am too angry to argue and my stomach is hollow with hunger

He will not feed me again if I anger him

Reading the story I have heard a thousand times, he laughs

"Remember this Maggie? When you were in 4th grade?"

I roll my eyes at his sentimentality. "Certainly, I do."

He moves closer to the wall and makes me sit in his lap

I barely fit, my long eighteen year old legs easily stretching beyond his

Not seeming to notice the chains scraping me he says, "Just like old times."

I feel like this isn't normal. But I'm not sure, is this how dads act?

I am not allowed to go to friends houses, but I do go to school

It's hard to tell what the other girls' dads treat them like

I've never known anything else... But something feels off,

Have they been chained in their basement, denied food for punishment?

When I go to school Monday, maybe I will ask 

My dad tickles my feet until he gets a reaction

"Now be good so I don't have to chain you. Honor role awards tomorrow?"

I nod. "I will. High honors this semester."

He unshackles me and croons, "That's my girl."

I beam under his praise.

I've been looking, don't say I haven't!

But it seem I've fallen into the bad habit

Of loving the wrong type, blissfully dumb

Then getting dumped, heartbroken and numb

Sometimes I just look at myself in the mirror

Trying hard to see what others see clearer

I see a plain person who deserves loneliness

I try to cheer up, I know I'm a mess

One day when I cry after looking at my reflection

I finally give up and accept the rejection

But then I feel a warm pressure on my shoulder

As though someone sitting near had moved in closer

Turning quickly, I see nothing strange

Looking again, I see the curtains have changed

They flutter like a wind has disturbed them

Shaking like a leaf, I lift up the crimson hem

The windows are closed, locked up tight

A voice, barley audible whispers, "It'll be alright."

My instincts tell me to run, but my mind says stay

The deeper voice comes again, "Please don't go away."

Settling against the wall I quietly ask the voice

"I suppose if you say I must stay, I have no choice?"

A light chuckle rang out then faded from the room

"Not every ghost you talk to is full of death and gloom."

I was afraid to even move but something pulled at me to stay

I surprised myself by saying, "I wish you hadn't gone away."

The voice seemed as startled as I, when it asked, "You remember me?'

Suddenly an image of a tall man settled in my mind, "Only a faint memory."

Sounding relieved the voice said, "That's all I need."

"I'll tell you the tale of hatefulness and greed."

I nodded an sat spellbound, unable to move an inch

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder which made me flinch

Not seeming to notice, he continued with his tale

"It was your father who set out for me to fail.

In a time long ago when you lived by the sea

Your father was a king and you told him you loved me

He wanted my vast land

So he gave me your hand

Then on our wedding night

He declared we must fight

Picking up a dagger

He struck and I staggered

Driving in the final blow

He sent me to a land of halos

You screamed at him and he locked you away

Kept you hungering in the dungeon 'til the last of your days

All I could do was watch helplessly

Which was horrific torture to me

But I'm here now, my love

Because we were meant to be."

Suddenly I recognized the voice

And knew I'd hated my father's choice

"It's you." I said in awed wonder

A rumbling laugh shook like thunder

A new man spoke, "I see you've found each other."

I stood and yelled, "I can't believe you, father!"

He laughed again and said, "I'll settle this, my sweet."

The other voice said, "I will not be trampled under your feet!"

Then a choking sound accompanied by a rumbling laugh

"You think you can beat me, you must be daft!"

I stood and yelled, "Stop father, leave him be!"

He answered, "Oh, I'll leave him, you'll see."

Then silence filled the room

Quiet as an ancient tomb

The young man remained, but the king had taken his ability

He could not touch, speak, or write things, he grunted with futility

No sound came, I began to stand

I called around the room, with my eyes I scanned

Nothing, not even a crooked curtain to prove

That my one true love had stood in this room

He yelled her name and wept, all without sound

She would not hear him again 'til she lay in the ground.