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The Poet's Writing
It's my songs, my stories, my poems... Enjoy. <3
I stand in a room,
letting my eyes wander
and senses explore.
The air in the room is chilled
as though the room were without power
for quite some time.
There are two windows
that are round,
sitting on the same wall.
In the center the room
on the cold wooden floor
sits a round mirror.
It's edge is painted black,
but flaked and scratched
and the mirror itself
has a spiderweb crack
which arcs across it.
Away from everything
sits a snow white beanbag,
in a corner by one of the round windows.
As I pad to the beanbag,
I glance out the window
and see a storm rolling forth from the distance.
I close my eyes
and drop down into the beanbag,
listening to my body settle
and give a contented sigh.
Welcome to the room of my soul.

Warped Dreams
Warped dreams
haunt my sleep.
Where fear has full control
and you lose your body
to become someone else.
Where time
has no restrictions.
What happens here
will leave you dizzied
and changed.
What happens here
is gruesome
and murders
play on re-run.
What happens here
shouldn't happen.

Live There
I want to sit
where the wind
ruffles up my hair
and kisses my cheek.
Where I can look over
the green grass
and watch the sunset
without a skyline in sight.
A place where I can
lay on my back
after the sun's gone
and watch the stars
twinkle in the night sky.
Where I have
a little house,
wooden sides
and a quaint window
in each room.
Where there is a dirt road
that leads up to my house
and I can let my kids
play in the yard
without having to worry.
I want to live there.

I'm standing on the outside looking in. My face pressed against the cold glass that encases me, hands beating on it to no avail; the glass won't break. I yell as the people pass me but the sound echos around me. I am all I can hear and the sound is deafening. I kick and scream, people walking pass like they couldn't see me, like I was invisible. I hear no birds, no music. All I can hear is my own breath, coming in pants now from my fight against the glass. I slide down the glass and bury my head in my hands, realizing for the first time that I'm crying and hot tears are streaming down my cheeks. I quiet myself and look up from my hands to peer through the glass. My eyes are locked with yours and I shrink back against the glass. You reach a hand out and touch the surface of the glass as a quiet gasp leaves my lips. The soft touch of your hand brings spider cracks arching across the glass and you put the other hand on the glass and it shatters around me. Suddenly I can hear everything and look up at your hand that is hovering near me, taking it and letting you pull me to my feet. For the first time in my life, I'm not invisible to someone.

The sounds
echo off the walls.
Medleys, melodies.
The winds
are earthy and woody.
But there is a brassy drawl
in the back ground.
Suddenly, a shout from the front,
The brassy sound fades away
into a quiet grumble of
buzzing bees.
The winds snicker in the front,
eyes cast back
to gaze at them.
The tap-taps never stop,
always a quiet beating
even when silence is demanded.
Then together we go,
a medley of sound;
and the tap-taps
that come from the back.

The Loop
Standing in the middle
of the people running 'round;
the loop.
They move with speed of light,
blurs to me.
I wander in the middle
of this fast moving loop,
reaching out into the people
to brush one of them.
As they reach out their hand
to jerk me into the whirl,
I pull away.
In the loop
you get lost
and your vision seems to change.
Everyone in the loop
is so very different to me.
Where the people in the loop,
don't even see me.
I'll forever stand and watch
the whirl that's going 'round
and I'll forever be different;
out of the loop.

I am me.
I'm a little fireball.
I'm a puzzle part.
I'm a ball of emotions,
of passion,
of joy,
of fear,
and disappointment.
I'm a girl
that never makes sense
and always makes sense.
I talk in riddles.
I'm complex
but very simple.
I work in patterns
and see them everywhere.
I'm excitable
and laid back
but I've got a crazy temper.
I love,
like few know how
and I know love.
I don't hate
and I don't wish illness.
I'm not the
'Good little church girl',
don't give me lables.
I'm like nothing
you've ever seen.
Nothing you'll
see again once we part.
I am heartless
but tell the truth in love.
I am me.

The Line
And her blood ran through her
but it was not pure.
It held the faintest
sense of darkness
that she'd never known before.
She was grasped in it,
mesmerized and blind.
She was left numb
and tired; wasted.
The darkness
brought forth power,
brough anger,
Yet, her body
embraced it openly,
and begged for more.
Her senses
were wiped out
and rubbed away.
And her spirit
was tired
of fighting.
So she wavered
on the line
of light
and darkness.

This was her call
for assistance.

Star Gaze
Star gaze with me,
lay by my side
as we watch the stars twinkle
into the dark sky.
Isn't it beautiful;
your hand in mine
while we watch the lights shimmer
with a grace none on earth can capture.
The only sounds around
are the grasshoppers and crickets,
playing a chorus
of gentle strums
and your breath
alternating against my own,
with the soft rise and fall of our chests.
As the dark meets the stars,
the definition is lost
and the darkness is gone
in a brilliant swirl of
oranges, reds, and yellows.
Through the light,
I hear your voice,
sweet, soft, and gentle
as it says,
"Good morning, sunshine."

My Encounter
Frustration piles up,
as there is
absence in my eyes
as my mind drifts
into the flickering candles
that have burned my fingers so sweetly.

My chest is tight,
and breath leaves me
in short wheezes that deflate my lungs
as more weight falls across me,
until all at once,
it is lifted
and air gushes into me.

Dizziness tricks my mind
as the cooling, bitter coffee
trickles down my throat,
and sudden pain
hits me like a stone wall.

Arms wrap around me,
stroking me
until my breath evens,
the pain is gone,
and my shame makes me pull away;
I have shown weakness,
even though the arms know
how weak I was
from the beginning.

Movement from one place
to another place,
the songs are quieter here
and the breath of those around me is audible.

Tears sting me
as those around me
begin to speak
and I have things to add,
but my voice will not sound,
even though I move my lips;
their words are strong, powerful
and I am moved, inspired,
and frightened
with what I would have to change
to live up to those words.

If I told you the truth?
I could lie
and say I love you.
Use those words,
too often said.
Or I could
tell the truth
and break your heart
like those other girl's you've held.
Do you want those
three, little words
said to you with a false heart,
or do you want my truth?
If I tell you the truth,
could you forgive me?
Or would I become the
girl that you hate;
that one who broke your heart
and left you?
If I told you the truth,
could you believe me
or would you mark it off
as anger, as a tease?
If you believed me,
could you still love me?

Dimly lit
and the lights barely flicker.
Doors fling open at the end of the hallway,
click, click, click.
A gurny rolls from the darkness,
nothing on it.
No one is here,
it's too late.
But I hear patients crying.
Where am I?
A hospital.
Everything seems fragmented,
as though looking through broken glass;
even my thoughts
cannot survive more than mere seconds.
Everything is broken.
The gurny moves faster,
like someone was pushing it
even though no one had touched it.
Click, click, click.
It's faster,
coming at me.
I turn to run,
panting though I haven't taken a step.
An icy burn hits the back of my legs,
as the gurny knocks me off my feet
and I'm sprawled out on it.
The metal burns,
freezing against warm skin.
My broken vision shakes,
I'm freezing,
the air is colder around here.
I scream and kick,
willing to fall from the gurny
rather than remain it's victim.
Cold hands,
pale, dead, hands.
Grabbing my legs and arms,
holding me down.
No control.
The dark hall is a blur now,
each light busts like someone broke it as we pass.
A needle,
hanging threateningly in a new hand.
A mystical grin that mesmerizes
and I lose my train of thought.
The needle sinks in
and a push.
A chill crawls through my veins,
then darkness.

I awake in my bed,
panting like a dog.
It is morning
and I am completely insane.

Tiny Little Poet
Community Member
Tiny Little Poet
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