Scatter Brain Jane has something wrong inside,
Her head is a giant jumble that she tries to hide,
As you pass by her outside on the street,
She looks so normal as she smiles to greet.
Read More »We choose hope.
How many times will you say the word no?
Should we beg and plead in order to go?
It Is this relationship working for us?
Remember the times you made such a fuss?
The Lost Season
I don’t want to hear carolling,
My heart needs some consoling,
The season lost by a missing piece,
It’s once bright magic has decreased.
I flap.
It will come as no surprise to most of you to learn that I am a flapper, the rest of you probably haven’t heard the term. A flapper is not some weird sea creature but someone who panics and gets agitated with themselves.
I flap therefore I am, at times I think I was born to flap, as somehow it’s encoded into my DNA. I’m always trying to find the answers to everything but could it be I was just made this way?
New Tomorrow?
It feels as though I let you all down,
The grey cloud above the perfect town,
A caterpillar who won’t become a butterfly,
Silent nothings that haunt your battle cry.
Patches of frost on newly bloomed rose,
A tiny hole in your beautiful new clothes,
The ugly duck in a lake filled with swans,
Decaying rust that muddies antique bronze.
Stalker.
Lurking in the shadows,
Keeping her on her toes,
Waiting patiently to pounce,
She will feel him trounce.
Slithering from a distance,
He has a ton of persistence,
The perfect moment will come,
She will have to succumb.
The Darkness
The bus drives down an empty street,
A man staggers home with two left feet,
Blue lights twinkle in the far distance,
As the woman wonders about her existence.
What is left behind after abuse?
Abuse comes in many forms, for me, it was both psychological and physical abuse that my ex put me through. Today I’d like to talk about what is left behind after abuse, and what it is like trying to move forward from something that is so hateful.
The Green Monster
The green monster rears its giant head,
Emerging from the depths for bloodshed,
Consuming every obstacle in its path,
Until all that is left is sheer wrath.
Why is everything so easy for others?
All I can do is hide under the covers,
Why am I constantly being disregarded?
Stuck with a mind that’s being bombarded.
The Autumn Trees.
As she sits on her chair watching the leaves change,
The feeling of joy seems somewhat strange,
People below are always to busy to notice,
Its beauty is being appreciated by the poetess.
All she can see is the magnificent autumn trees,
How they dance in the slightest hint of a breeze,
The road below her is busy and congested,
But when she stares out she always feels rested.
