What really is hope,
But a frail little thing?
Is it nothing but a false tale,
Waiting to sting?
It lures you in with sugary songs,
Until you are weak at the knees,
Every word uttered from its silver tongue,
Being nothing but a tease.
Reality is harsh,
And bitter and cold,
Auctioning off false pretenses,
Until they are all sold.
Do not trust hope,
With it’s softness and care,
Because you’ll just end up abandoned,
In the bowels of nowhere.
Loyalty is brittle,
Trust is weak,
But low self esteem is strong,
High hopes forever weak.
Do not ask for hope,
Stay away from the lies,
Or the next time you believe yourself happy,
You’ll find it’s nothing but a disguise.
She could have broken your heart,
But instead she broke her own,
For she did not want you to feel the pain,
That had been all she’d ever known.
She took away your tears,
In exchange for her smiles,
She gave you back lost time,
And turned back the dials.
Laughter was exchanged for sadness,
Your order for her chaos,
Your joy for her depression,
Your gain from her loss.
She could have been selfish,
Deep down it’s what she wanted to do,
But her crave for a joyous life,
Was overridden by her love for you.
She may seem fine,
Behind the false grins,
But inside she is screaming,
Why could she never gain any wins?
She gave it all up for you,
But she couldn’t rid you both of strife,
So she chose you instead,
But the suffering caused her to end her own life.
Thank you tinaanne06 for the great prompt!
Being a military kid,
Seems like a prideful thing,
But once you are one,
You no longer want the life that it will bring.
Sure it means sacrifice,
Sure it means having perks,
But it isn’t as amazing as you think,
I’m afraid that’s not how it works.
Your parents will be strict,
And prideful till the end,
They will even trick you,
Into thinking you are their best friend.
It’s true they love you,
That will never change,
But they have impossible expectations,
One that’s are never within range.
You wish you could retaliate,
But you have to bite your tongue,
Because you are too afraid,
Especially when you are young.
They can never be wrong,
It just simple cannot be,
You can never be right,
Doesn’t that fill you with glee?
You are not allowed to feel emotions,
For it is a weakness,
So you must shove them down,
And keep them in darkness.
If they appear,
They will not understand,
Your emotions cannot be negative,
It’s simply banned.
You must live with the knowledge,
That you are a disappointment,
You want to complain?
Get in line and make and appointment.
Being a military kid,
Means being kept in the dark,
I wish I could change this,
But I don’t know where to start.
I spot you drawing across the room,
And call out your name.
Your head doesn’t even turn,
My previous call no longer tame.
I shout your name,
Until my throat goes raw,
But you don’t notice,
You continue to draw.
No matter how loud I scream,
You never turn around,
I don’t stop crying your name,
Even when my voice is unable to make sound.
You soon start to fade away,
Disappearing into the air,
You don’t even react,
You don’t even care.
I try to run towards you,
But my legs won’t budge,
I simply watch you fade away,
Without leaving so much a smudge.
Once you are gone,
I sprint to where you previously stood,
I drop to my knees and cradle your drawing,
I did everything I could.
I gasped at your drawing,
It was of you and me,
It was the both of us,
Sitting under a great oak tree.
It was under that tree where we became friends,
It was a symbol of our bond,
It was where our friendship,
Was first spawned.
I dropped the drawing,
And cried as realization hit.
We were drifting apart,
And there was nothing I do could to fix it.
You knew too,
This did not put you in a daze,
That’s why the great oak tree in the picture,
Was set brightly ablaze.
I tossed and turned all night. Something felt wrong. I snap awake, my breath ragged and torn. My head felt as though it has been pounded with bricks. Rubbing my sore, heavy eyes I roll out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom. My back aches, protesting with each movement. I flicker on the dim lights in my bathroom and stand in front of the wide metal rimmed mirror on the wall. A sharp gasp escapes my lips. Long, twisted horned prodded from my head, meeting two feet in the air. My eyes burned a malicious red, wings frantically flapping behind me. The black feathers ruffled and torn. They cascade to the ground with each groan of my bones. Tears rim the lids of my eyes.
”what’s happening to me?“ I cried. I brittle, hollow laughter filled the bathroom, drowning me. I shield my ears with my hands, attempting to block out the noise. It doesn’t work.
“What do you want?” I gasped.
“You stole something that wasn’t yours. Now you pay the price!” The voice shrieked.
”but I didn’t steal anyth-” I started. I thought back to yesterday and remembered it’s events. On my way home I had come upon a gold incrusted pendant with a red ruby center. The vintage piece was a work of art. I had taken it home and washed away the dirt that matted it’s fine artistry.
“I didn’t steal it though!” I shouted.
”You took what wasn’t yours. Now you pay!” A disfigured from shaped in the mirror. It’s backed hunched in an inhuman arch, it’s ashy skin flaking from its body, if it could even be called that. Chipped, dagger like claws grew from its dainty fingers. It’s eyes were as black as coal. It cackled a raspy sound and disolved into the air.
“No!” I screamed. I pounded my fist against the glass over and over until it was dripping with crimson.
“you can’t leave me like this!” I cried. “You just can’t,”
2 amazing guys,
One impossible choice,
Life used to be easier,
When I didn’t have a voice.
One is sweet,
Weird and true,
The other one makes you feel like,
their is no one in the world but you.
One is shy,
The other is daring,
Both are dorks,
And kind and caring.
I wish I knew,
Which spoke to my heart the most,
But I can’t access my feelings,
All I find is a ghost.
Maybe it’s cause I’m not capable,
Of feelings things like love,
Or perhaps I can,
I just need a little shove.
My head tells me one,
My heart another,
Both are good friends,
Neither better than the other.
I wish I knew which one,
Would make me feel like me,
But to be fair I don’t even know who I am,
I don’t even know who to be.
One shot, two shots,
Three shots, four.
When will mommy realize,
That she shouldn’t drink more.
Five beers, six beers,
Seven beers, eight,
If she doesn’t wake up soon,
She’s going to be late.
Nine glasses, ten glasses,
Eleven glasses, twelve.
When will she learn to stay away,
From the bar shelve.
One hour, two hours,
Three hours, four,
Mommy still hasn’t woken up,
Watching her is starting to become a chore.
Five hours, six hours,
Seven hours, eight.
I’m starting to grow tired,
I can barely stay awake.
More hours passed,
it’s now midnight,
I’m starting to think,
Mommy lost this fight.
More hours passed,
Sirens filled the air,
I try to tell them,
Mommy isn’t going anywhere.
They but a black tarp over her,
Like she was a piece of trash,
Then the men in blue,
Found mommy’s stash.
It’s been two weeks,
I’m staying with a friend.
I’m waiting for mommy on the couch,
I’m sure I’ll see her again.
12 years later,
My grave they’ll soon dig,
Thinking of my mother’s passing,
I take another smoke and swig.
A warm feeling
Ever get that warm feeling inside when you are with someone you love? When you are having fun with family? Or maybe when your dog is licking your face after your vigorous run? Some think that this feeling is joy, but what if it wasn't? Surely by now you've heard about how you get a chilling feeling when their is somehting eerie going on or a "ghost" in the room. This is a warning. When that warm fuzzy feeling creeps in, push it away. That's a demon preying on your moment of weakness. When we are happy, we let our guard down. That is when they come. They writhe their way through the barrier and try to take over. The warm feeling you feel is the fire from hell and the anger and want of the demon. Ever wonder why people go crazy? Why serial killers become serial killers? It is because a demon broke through in a moment of weakness. They couldn't fight it. I couldn't fight it. By the time you read this, I will no longer be me. I just wanted to see my best friend again. I was so full of joy when I went to visist her in the first time in two years. I leave you with this warning so you may evade your fate. Fight the warm feeling. Push it down...before it's too late.
Look in the mirror
I stare into a mirror,
Not recognizing the girl I see,
It takes me a while,
To realize that girl is me.
This girl is a liar,
She is a cheat and a dissever,
But she has a pretty smile,
So everyone always believes her.
This girl is closed off,
She is emotionally and physically scarred,
She tries to run away from her demons,
But she never gets very far.
This girl is a survivor,
She knows the true meaning of pain,
This girl is strong,
And a master at playing life’s game.
She refuses to break,
She refuses to bend,
She challenges light and darkness,
And this will lead to her end.
But this girl is also kind,
For she never wants anyone to experience what she has,
For those unforgiving experiences,
Nearly drove her mad.
I stare into the next mirror,
And see the girl I used to be,
She was small and joyful,
And filled to the brim with glee.
She had known hardship,
But it never got in her way,
Because all the good in her life,
Made up for it at the end of the day.
She never frowned,
And she never lied,
She had a bright light inside of her,
But that light eventually died.
I reached out and touched the mirror,
And it immediately began to shatter
And I listened as my old life,
Hit the ground with a clatter.
Jar of emotions
Five years ago, when I was but thirteen years old, I vowed to never go to therapy again; today I would break that vow. The building was a rather plain building; beige walls, brown sofas and coffee tables, the cliché therapy office. I sat in the waiting room, waiting for my name to be called.
“Aja.” Called the desk lady. I raise my hand slightly and walk into the gestured room. The room was very displaced in the plain building. Unlike the rest of the building, this room was vibrant. It had electric blue walls, a pear white couch, a dark wooded desk in the back, and a white cushioned chair in front of the couch. A nice-looking lady with fair hair and chestnut eyes motioned me to sit on the couch.
“Please, sit.” The doctor said gesturing to the couch. Wearily, I sit down on the couch. The doctor wore a white coat, blue pants, and a white shirt. She held a brown clipboard and black pen in her hand. “My name is Dr. Carol, what brings you here today?” My head snaps up at her soft voice.
“Oh, um, uh.” I stuttered.
“It’s okay to be nervous. Just start by telling me what’s troubling you.” Dr. Carol said.
“Okay, um, five years ago my father was brutally murdered, my mother became a drug addict, so child services took me to live with my aunt. In my life time I have had over fifteen kidney surgeries due to numerous diseases and complications during my birth. I have been told I cannot be fixed. My best friend died last year. My brother refuses to see me, oh and I’m not getting along with my classmates.”
The doctor stared at me, mouth agape.
“Sounds like you have been through a lot these past few…years.” Dr. Carol said. “How do you cope with these emotions?”
“I don’t,” I replied. “I pushed them down a long time ago. That’s another reason why I come to you today. I’ve buried my emotions so far deep that I no longer know how to get them back. I’m starting to feel like something is always wrong, but I do not know what, I am forgetting why I am upset, and I cannot even cry anymore.”
“What do you mean you cannot cry anymore?” Dr. Carol asked.
“Exactly that. I can’t cry. I spent so long forcing myself to swallow my tears that I have forgotten how to. I do not cry at death, movies, while reading sad stories, or when I break bones.” I explained.
“I see,” Dr. Carol said, writing in her clipboard. “Well I have the perfect solution for you. It is something I call ‘jar of emotions’. You are going to write down all your most painful memories and put them in the jar.”
“Are you sure about this?” I asked.
“Yes, I believe that this will help you.”
I give her a slight nod and take the paper and pen she gave me. Suddenly, every violent, brutal memory came rushing to the surface.
“Come on!” I shout to my best friend. “My aunt will kill me if I am not home in twenty minutes.”
My best friend Sarah stumbles to the car, keys in hand. The smell of booze filled the air.
“I got this, just jump in and let’s go!” Sarah slurred. We both jumped into the car laughing and drove onto the highway. The music was blaring, our laughter ringing through the air like a siren.
“Sarah watch out!” I shouted as she swerved into an oncoming truck. Soon real sirens filled the air.
I drop the paper in the jar.
The sound of doctors shuffling about rings through the air. The man who played his guitar and sang to me before this has disappeared. The beeping of the monitor is my only lullaby. I clench my fist till my knuckles turn bone white to disguise the shaking. It is nearly impossible to hear the doctor shouting orders of the clattering of my teeth and the beeping monitor. The male doctor inserted an IV into the top of my hand. I could barely register the pain. I focused on the beeping monitor. Beep. Beep. Beep. The other male doctor with the kind face and fair hair came over to me with a rubber mask. With a wide grin, obviously meant to calm me, he secured the mask onto my face. The words he spoke are lost in my memory; the only sound constant is the beeping. Beep. Beep. Beep. Once the mask is secure, the man shoots me another soft smile and tells me something of what I can make out as him telling me the gas is about to come through. This is the part I dread the most. It all goes well at first. My body goes numb and I feel as though I’m flying. Touch is always the first to go. After about ten seconds of blissful soaring, smell abandons me. Soon after, taste follows. All that is left is sight and hearing. Dark spots cloud my vision as I fade out. Soon, the merciful feeling of unconsciousness over takes me and all I am left with is the beeping of the monitor.
Another paper goes into the jar.
I lay in bed playing with my toys. I know I should be asleep, but I was too excited for my birthday tomorrow. My head snaps up from my game when I hear shouting coming from downstairs. I rush downstairs and peer in between the bars of the stair case into the kitchen. Mommy was crying in the living room while daddy was in the kitchen. Three strangers, all male, were in my house. One held a gun to mommy’s head, the other two were screaming at daddy. One of them got mad when daddy came at them with a kitchen knife and shot him ten times. The sound of the gun firing caused my ears to ring like church bells. The next day on my birthday, daddy was on the news. They said it was because those guys were angry that daddy was putting their boss in jail. I knew daddy should have never become a lawyer.
I drop the final piece of paper in the jar. A tear slides down my cheek. Soon that single tear turns into a raging sob.
“Finally, a break-through.” Dr. Carol whispered into my ear as she stroked my hair.