Tiny moving parts,

Never to be seen

As anything more

Than a pretty little doll.

Hoping wasn't enough

To move their cold hearts

As they carelessly

Played with her life.

They decide when she rests,

What she hates,

What she loves.

When she crawled,

When she walked,

When she ran.

It's hard to sleep

At night when

They leave her without free will.

She feels more doll

Than human.

Born to someone who couldn't keep me,

Adopted and brought to the United States,

Went back to get another child, my sister.

Started kindergarten, learning really fast,

Goes back to kindergarten because of young age,

Realizes that I can work hard to achieve anything,

Gets in big trouble for the first time, I change.

No more childhood from now on I tell myself,

Begins to understand and struggle with life (and love),

Earns my pointe shoes and learns more control.

Notices that I am good at school and becomes determined,

Remembers I can do anything if I really want to,

Understands how lucky I am, and vows to improve,

Works to be more positive and the best I can.

I am going to end this poem here,

Before it becomes too personal,

Sorry, but these are the only years,

I feel comfortable sharing...

The night was young, and Carol patrolled the streets like the men in blue. The rings on her hand once a symbol of love and commitment now stood for imprisonment. Unable to break away due to the choking fear of not surviving on her own outside her prison. Her marriage was her cage and her husband, Sean was her warden. Her only sanctuary was the quiet moments she had to herself walking the neon-lit streets of New York City as she looked for her next job. In those time she’d pretend to be one of those twenty-something-year-old girls that had not a care in the world, someone who knew not the harsh reality of life. The night grew cold and the cropped fur coat that displayed her merchandise did not provide any warmth in the cool night. Carol’s thought of traveling abroad to the tropical islands she used to keep her warm was interrupted by the sound of a gruff voice. “How much for night babe?” Carol truly hated that she sold her body to filthy pigs like the man who hung out of his driver side window asking for her services. This is not what she envisioned her life to be after marrying the love of her life, Sean. Sighing she walked up to the man’s door and leaned over displaying her assets as he watches her every move just like a tiger watching its prey. “It’s three hundred to take me home with you and I’ll do anything your heart desire honey.” She smiled batting he lashes at him hoping he would go for the price. If she could get three hundred out of him she would make her goal, which would make her husband happy and not explode with rage for once. The man didn’t even blink before answering. “Let’s get out of here.” Walking around the car Caroled smiled a genuine smile for the first time in years. She knew that for once she would not wake up covered in black and blue.

Dark eyes dance

To the melody

Of labored breathing

As I forget

The monster that haunts

Me from behind the

Sea-tinted glass.

My eyes close under

The heat of a bright light

And I nibble at the skin

Of my parched lips

As my body

Grows cold and stiff.

I’d be slightly awestruck but...

Being as I’m from the future,

I’d fast recoup my sensibilities.

Then...

I’d “cleverly” preempt his next sentence

And act like I’m Nostradamus,

Because,

If you can’t be naturally smart;

Then why not just pretend -

Obviously using a compendium,

The one labelled

“The Complete Works of Shakespeare - unabridged”.

Because hopefully,

I’d remember to bring it

(Along with my keys, purse and phone - the latter evidently for taking snapshots of the guy BECAUSE HE IS SHAKESPEARE AFTER ALL)

Then before zipping back to my own time,

I’d write his FIRST autobiography and copyright it.

Just so wouldn’t have to worry about my family.

And also because I just told you;

I’m pretending to be clever

(And I’d be a legend)

So when people asked what I do for a living I could say

“Oh you know, nothing much. I only wrote the first book about the life and time of Billy Shakes”

Billy Shakes is clearly his tag name!

I mean is it not apparent that quilling was the new graffiti back then?

Besides, you can do ANYTHING when there’s nobody to knock any sense into you.

That said I could tell him about my new invention,

The tablet,

The one made of metals and plastic.

Or the new horseless carriage I created forget Ford.

And how I manage to maintain world peace in such volatile times.

Question is would he believe one person could do all that.

It’s quite possible as one person penned all those plays and odes.

Either way I’d make the most of it!

A tiny cry erupts from somewhere below my feet: “Mewwww!!”

My heart rate escalates and I begin scouring the ground. Sounds like a baby kitten! What’s a baby kitten doing in a Trader Joe’s parking lot!?

There, a grey fuzzball in the bushes!

He’s bleeding!

“MEWWWW!”

“IT’S OKAY, I’LL GET YOU TO SAFETY!”

I scoop him up and run across the parking lot like I’m being chased with a gun. Concerned heads turn.

I swing open my trunk and place him alongside 4 other injured kittens I coincidentally found while running errands today.

Looks like I’m a kitten rehabilitator now.