Cry Baby, Cry
I tell you true,
something you were afraid you already knew,
but the truth of the matter,
like an exaggerated mad-hatter,
I no longer am in love with you.
You can quiver, tremble, even shake,
those tears of yours are truly fake,
just like all those nights
that led to days,
you were the one to instigate,
this harrowing feeling of hate I fully sate.
you made me such the fool,
I felt berated, as if I were back in school,
yet I remembered the golden rule;
the one that you forgot,
love with all your heart.
Now I walk away,
no longer caring about this
or any other day.
You can shed tears for years,
matters not to me.
You destroyed my heart and soul,
so sit there and have your pity party,
I will be searching for new people, new places to go.
Have I lost
Have I lost who I am
or did I ever understand
did I fail my last plan
when I slipped from your hands
will I ever be able
to call myself a man
have I gone off the edge
did I fail my last test
Is life just a taste of our death
cause I’m becoming obsessed
will I ever be able
to finally come back home
She has bruises on her bones,
the hurt is deep,
every gasp causes her bones to weep.
There is a sacredness in her tears,
the Universe in every teardrop.
I found in moments when she cries,
her tears are not the mark of weakness but of power.
And when she finally exhales, and her bones settle in quiet stillness,
even though the pain is woven throughout her foundation,
her tears still sing of unspeakable love.
The Little Sad Rabbit
I think it happened in winter when I first saw the little sad rabbit. He was sad, so instead of eating him, I invited him to tea. As a fox, I'm supposed to be rude and wily, but sometimes everyone in this forest forgets that I need to eat too. And that the famous birds eat too. And rabbits too.
So when the little sad Rabbit entered my cave, I had already put the tea on the table. I tried to ask him why he was so sad, but I couldn't. Because I thought I knew the answer. After some time of silence, I finally chocked out the question. And I was right. The little sad Rabbit said that his parents never came home last week. I was scared to my core, that I had killed them. I asked the next question about his home. Where is his home? If there is even the slightest chance, that I didn't kill them...
But I didn't get lucky. Of course not. They were in my hunting territory when they disappeared. The little sad Rabbit had started guessing my thoughts, and I hated admitting something so evil. So sad to this little rabbit. But I had no choice. The little sad Rabbit deserved to know who killed his parents. I couldn't speak, so I wrote it on a piece of paper. The little sad Rabbit wasn't surprised when he read the note. Or angry. He just got even sadder. And that broke my heart into millions of pieces.
Later that day when the little sad Rabbit had gone home, I went for a walk. And in the snow, I saw a little lump body. My heart skipped a beat. And yes, yet again luck wasn't on my side. It was the little sad Rabbit. I picked him up in my jaws and carried him to my cave. There I put him into my bed and covered him with blankets.
After some time the little sad Rabbit got better. Still, I couldn't bear the sadness he carried in his heart. Once he even tried to ask me to kill him. I pretended that I didn't understand. Some of the other forest animals were saying that I need to kill him. That the world didn't want such a sad rabbit. And still, I couldn't end the little sad Rabbits life. Eventually, he got a little bit better. And yet again he asked me again to kill him. And yet again I couldn't.
After some time we decided that this world isn't good. That this world is trying to kill us. Him because he is too sad and me because I end lives for eating. So we went away from this world. We went away forever. Together.
What is love?
What is love?
Is it the wake up texts in the morning?
or the feeling you get when that one person,
walks into a room?
Is it the millions of fluttering butterflies?
or the random kisses on your head?
or maybe it's the hugs that make you feel safe
Is it a hand held out to pick you up from a kind stranger?
or maybe it's just a simple gesture that puts a smile on your face
Whatever it may be, that love is to not be taken for granted
the love that makes you want to get up each day,
the love that never goes away, even when you're angry,
the love that makes you a better version of yourself,
the love that makes you want to live
Love can make you question everything in life
love can open ones eyes, or make them blind
love doesn't see color or race,
it does not discriminate or hold grudges,
love opens doors to new beginnings and happy endings,
love is kind and patient,
love is more than just a lifetime of memories,
it's more like an eternity of memories,
ones that last forever
I guess I saw it too late
Or maybe you'd call it fate
How does one miss out on love
When it comes on wings of dove
Flashing smile, shining eyes
How I wish I was more wise
Now I get to watch you live
But you know what I would give
Just to see you smile again
When I was 9
I was quickly awoken early one morning,
like a Christmas morning...
me and my two brothers were rushed into a room waiting for the big surprise,
but the room had no tree with fairy lights no presents neatly rapped instead,
my mother and stepfather announced that my father was found hanging from a tree in the bushlands of Maitland
I had to see dad in that coffin
But my stepfather made it just so we were late for my fathers open casket....
I gave up,
When that tree held him up..
Never have I filled the floor with such tears like that mourning!
I sat on the wooden bench in the funeral church. I heard crying everywhere. I smelled tears. Very salty tears.
There were people left and right. My family, my friends, and people who I never met. Too much crying. I already wasted my tears before. Can a person waste their tears?
I hated the lighting here. Too bright. Ugly. Why so bright?
One by one, most people stepped up to the front of the funeral church to say their speeches. I’m guessing they wanted to say some things.
She was a bright girl with an amazing future.
Bright girl? Future?
She was loved by all.
Loved by ... all?
She was talented.
Was ... talented?
They probably got bewitched from the bright lights.
I watched as my mom walked up in front of the funeral church.
She had the most amazing smile. She was an inspiration to all of us. Her ... her last words to me were that if she was gone, nobody would care ... I wish I could say something. I wish I could save her and I hate myself for being too late. I ...
I jumped from my seat but quickly sat down.
I guess I am not noticeable. That’s fine.
My mom continued talking, but I couldn’t hear her.
I scanned the people in the church.
The girl was loved by all.
So many people.
Why do I feel guilt?
Do I regret it?
No, I don’t.
Before I knew it, I was following my family up the stairs. I don’t really feel my legs. But, that’s fine.
There was a coffin in front of the room. I wonder how that got there. My other relatives were whispering words towards the coffin. When it was my family’s turn, they put objects into the coffin.
A stuffed dog.
A puffed-up star sticker.
I liked those objects.
We know that you like these objects. Your sister and brother chose them specifically for you.
They were also talking to the coffin. Funny. It wasn’t like the dead body can hear.
What if it was not a dead body? Oh boy, that would make a funny story.
I squeezed myself in between my parents.
We love you.
I stared inside the coffin and screamed, but nobody noticed.
We miss you.
I screamed louder, feeling my heart plummeting. I felt like throwing up.
I wish you knew that before you were gone.
Tears erupted in my eyes as I collapsed on the floor.
The dead body ...
Please continue being strong. Live free and rest in peace.
That dead body was me.
It was as sunny as two scoops of raisins
A Saturday worth playing in
We go to the park, mom and my brothers
I lag behind because it’s just a bad habit
I stayed behind unnoticed, staring at a rabbit
Mommy calls back to me and so I grab it
It was white and sickly I think
My mom made a big stink
I put it down then I frown and pout
I’m scolded by mom I cry and sob
It was sickly I think, all by itself
I wanted to save it, take him home so it can get better
The next day on a Sunday we visited the same park
I see what look like the same rabbit but it was the dead
I felt sad all day, it was the first time I felt that kind of sadness
I couldn’t stop thinking of the poor little rabbit
I stay sad all week, my teachers thought I was sick
I am now an adult and I am the kinda person there is a name for
I can’t help it for I do not ever want to feel like I did that day
I am now
A cat lady
Are You Still in Pain?
“Are you still in pain?"
The bar's neon sign had been a part of this area of town for as long as anyone could remember. This was a desolate part of the city; only one main road ran through the mountains of ashes covering the grey and bleak wasteland surrounding them, separated from train tracks by a line of telephone wires.
Ever since the industrialists had come to the ancient marshes the town was built on, filling this spot of swampland in with soot, street sweepings, and other garbage until it had become little more than the city dump, the neon sign had burned its question to anyone walking by.
It belonged to Wilson's, a dimly lit bar and popular stopping point for the renegades of the Dock district that had changed ownership from an armoury to a brewery to a flophouse before becoming the cantina it was now. At least, the bar and its sign had been around for as long as she could remember, and she had lived here her entire life. She saw the sign every day, on her way to school in the city, and then coming home from the construction job she worked in the ash fields to help pay the bills.
Every day, it blazed a cool menthol blue existentialist question to her, with only one word - PAIN? - in a separate, warmer orange, as if the bar was offering her a serving of pain just behind its doors. But there was no pain to be had at Wilson's. Just the ever-reliable comfort of liquor. That was where she found herself now, wrapped in its warm embrace of a buzz, the sole occupant of a window table meant for two.
Outside, the sun had long set, and the shadows that had grown as she had left the job site and walked here had taken over the landscape. A half-drunk ginger-beer-and-rum cocktail sat on top of the doodling journal that she carried everywhere with her, the condensation from the ice inside leaking down the sides of the glass and leaving a moisture stain on the composition book's cover.
The bartender had brought her tab over a few minutes ago, but she didn't want to pay it just yet. She wasn't looking forward to the long walk home in the pouring rain. Her sweatshirt had become soaked already, and she could feel how damp her hair was without even touching it. And what was waiting for her at home, anyway? An alcoholic and abusive father. A spineless mother who let him hit her. A baby brother too young to understand any of it, but old enough to already have breathing problems from secondhand smoke.
She looked out the window at the sign again, the constant stream of raindrops trickling down the windowpane slightly blurring the neon colours together. Sometimes she would get an irresistible urge to throw a rock right at the damn thing.
"Are you still in pain?"
You have no fucking idea.