Power

Power; we are all sent
Out into the world to
Win, completely destroying
Everyone, but is this
Really such a noble goal?

She Swings

She takes out her pen

She writes out a note

She numbers through ten

And here’s what she wrote

(1.) I’ve tried to be so perfect

(2.) But I’m flawed and failed you all

(3.) I tried to climb the heights you set

(4.) But I slipped and now I fall

(5.) I’m tired of all the tears

(6.) I’m through with all this pain

(7.) I’m tired of running on these tracks

(8.) I’m getting off this train

(9.) We may meet again someday

(10.) I’m sorry you had to find out this way

She lays the paper on her bed

They’ll read it…. She hopes…

Then she climbs up for her necklace of rope

Pushes her feet, and then she chokes

She twitches and she panics

Then she remembers why she’s there

And she endures the heavy price to pay

As she swings in mid-air

She sways so gently, to and fro

Her body so limp and still

And then they come and find her

And on her bed, her last minute will.

Dotted Lines

Under her sleeves
Along her wrists
Are dotted lines
They are secrets

When no one's around
She looks at them and
She thinks about how
She wishes it'd end

It's so hard to take
The stress in her home
And everything makes
Her feel so alone

The darkness creeps
Into her mind
The coldness seeps
Into her spine

When does it end?
The fear, the hurt
Her heart cannot mend
It only gets worse

With no where to go
No hope can she find
She cuts along
The dotted lines

material?

today, i sit down to write
although i can't decide
just what to put down in print
what to write and glorify?

i write about what happens to me
but writing this way can be hard when
nothing exciting happens in my life
giving me material once again

lately you'd think i'd be able to write
volumes of my recent life story
but lacking a way to translate
i feel it might come out quite boring

in a way, it's a good thing,
that i have nothing to say
but this means that as a poet
i've somewhat lost my way

and yet i sit, typing away
composing a poem without a plan
"can you do that?" you may ask
well it turns out that, yes, i can

Three Ropes

three ropes pull on the heart
the heart is conflicted
-
one is about ready to give up
but the other two are still fighting
-
the other two ropes see the hearts beauty
they crave its acceptance
-
they desire its warmth
they won't give up
-
the heart must make a choice
between the rope it doesn't want to let go,
-
the rope that has been there longer,
and the rope that can support it better
-
three ropes pull on her heart
the heart is torn