Yearly Archives: 2019

Coping

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Goodbye bottle number one,
You were not full enough,
My glass sat half empty,
My mind still half full.
Bottle one, you were sweet,
You were smooth.
A hint of cinnamon,
A calmed anger,
A giggly outlook,
For a moment.

Well hello bottle number two,
And bottle three.
Bottle two not even half full,
Bottle three not barely touched.
Let's share stories,
Laugh, cry, shout, scream.
I don't like your flavour
Bottle three,
But bottle two is lacking.

Which mixer now?
Eenie, meenie - this, that,
Why choose, I'll swap,
I'll change it up,
That bottle isn't important,
Two and three are!
I might sleep tonight,
Or I might wake up
Over and over,
Just like last night.

Can I spend every night here?
Numb enough to smile,
Broken enough to cry.
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A Poisoned Womb

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She disgusts me,
She boils my blood,
She makes sick,
She makes me hate.

Her poisoned womb made you love her,
Made you believe she's the best in the world,
Made you blind to all her faults,
Made you favour her always.

She angers me,
She grinds my gears,
She makes me miserable,
She makes me hurt.

Her poisonous personality put you in danger,
Neglected to keep you safe when it mattered
Made you endure this suffering,
Made you feel you couldn't speak up.

She makes me cry,
She makes me seethe,
She makes me depressed,
She is despicable.

Her poisoned childhood has ruined yours,
Made you vulnerable because she's sick,
Made you prey to her predator,
Made you victim to her selfishness.

She disgusts me,
She boils my blood,
She makes sick,
She makes me hate.
But,
She fucked up,
She made you hurt.
So,
I'll pick up the pieces,
I'll keep you safe,
I'll give you joy,
I'll show you love.

Lily Flower in the Storm

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Small, fragile, and bursting with colour,
Sweet Lily flower sits beneath storm clouds,
But only sees the sun,
Bowing to its beauty,
Dancing petals across memories,
Before the rain that's soon to come.

Though the water weighs heavy,
And storm acts unrelenting,
Dear Lily flower stands firm,
As the drops pluck slowly at her soil.

Had I known before,
The hurt that rain would cause,
I'd have marched with my umbrella,
Held steadfast above her smile,
And bore the rain myself.

The soil she laid in was rotten,
And littered with debris,
So I softly moved the compost,
And pulled out all the weeds.

Now her roots have settled,
In the new garden she'll now grow,
Where I can watch over her,
And shield her from the storms.
Bare witness to her strength,
And the beauty that she holds.