Category: Writers Block
A moving life turned stillborn
Under the weight of your world
A flower trampled in a garden
Rained upon with acid
Petals blowing in a cyclone
Frozen child barely warm enough to cry
But, how can she with your hand down her mouth?
A lithe and lively bird
Fed with your parasites and worms
Eaten away from inside
Fattening, rotting, wasting away
Falling victim to boredom and paralyzing sleep
Shut out from the light and the sky
She will never reach the stars
While her wings are in your hands
You mold them into eyes
And still she cannot see
You place them in her mind
And it races like the queen bee's drone
A worker under your demanding command
Blackened and bruised under your closed fists
Deaf, dumb, and numbed from head to toe
Scarred with attempts to eternally end this imprisonment
Gasping for air, pleading for attention
Groveling for approval that you will never give her
Unless she is a straight A sighted student
How is it you seek her to be better off than you
Yet deny her the skills she needs
To see the world, to break away
To stop looking through your narrow blurry eyes
Because if she opens her own, it could kill you
You don't want to see that
Who will rot the fastest?
Is it you who neglects your ill and failing body
And depends on the slavery of others?
Is it you who remains mostly oblivious
Until something goes wrong in a split second
And you have to throw your words down like lightning bolts
Or is it she who shall remain imperfect
Overweight, improperly fed, weary, restless
Cut off from the circulation
Of the ever growing and moving Earth
Emotionally unstable, left to her mind's devices
Strangling her spirit's relationship to the universe
Until she rots away, descending into blackness
Or until someone in the world cares enough to help drag her back into the light
Brilliant keep at it.
Thanks! And now you've gotten some poetic insight to what it's like living with my parents
Hmm sounds like hell. You should show them this, or would they be none the wiser.
I'm going to write them a letter. Someday they may read this poem, but for now it's just move out, write 'em a letter, and maybe a temp restraining order with no contact for six months.
Good idea and make it stick smile