Paper Slips

    Gah, I was determined to get this up for the last day of National Poetry Month, but, well, I forgot about it until now. Still have fifteen or so minutes, so does still count yes? Maybe it's a bit of a, ah, not so happy poem, but I guess I was sad when I wrote it so...it happens. But I like it anyway and working to get it up before midnight, so meh.



    Little slips of paper scattered all about.
    Not good enough.
    Don't cry.
    Can't help. Want.
    Try. Not good enough.
    Keep quiet.
    And more.
    Tears.
    Alone. Always.
    Hurt.
    Take up all the papers, drop them into the bottle.
     Heavy weights drop.
    Forcing them to fit, sealing it tight.
    Bury, hide, don't let them see.
    Don't let them know.
    Quiet.

The Time was Then

         If they knew what they would leave us, where they would leave us, would our ancestors have made the same choices? 

If they knew we'd be forever trapped behind indestructible bars, would they leave us out to die?

 If they knew what we know now, would they have thought of the now and not the future?

If they could see with our eyes, what would have become of us? Would our future be so bleak?

Did they imagine things would be better by clogging us with their ideas? 

Did they think we would be joyful when our world crumbled in our hands?

How could we free ourselves when the keys were long destroyed?

How could we speak and hope and dream when bars are all we know?

How could things change when we see nothing but our bars?

They kept saying we were their future.

They kept saying we would change things.

They kept denying the now had to be changed.

They passed it onto us.

Years and years and generations and generations; none thought.

Now we are all but prisoners in our minds and hearts and freedoms.

Now we are unable to enact change.

Now we cannot save ourselves for the choices of our ancestors.

Welcome to My Dream

    Welcome to my dream,

    where the world is safe and warm.

    Colors and beauty abound.

    Welcome, for there is no fear.

    Welcome, for there is no pain.

    Welcome, for this our naivety,

     our innocence.

    Imagine the safety, the care, 

         that ignorance can bring.

    Forget, forget,

    And welcome to my dream.

    Welcome to my nightmare,

    where the world has forgotten to pretend.

    Logic and reason, 

    over pretending and dreaming.

    Fear as the mermaids dive beneath the waves.

    Pain as the fae pop in blasts of glitter.

    Innocence lost when the glasses were removed,

         ignorant no more,

            but the cost is great.

    Telling us to grow, 

    to forget the worlds of stories and fantasy.

    Telling us those things mean nothing,

    when they have only meant the world.

    Telling us our dreams were false,

    even though we knew 

             but dreamed anyway.

    Why must we grow,

     but lose our sense of wonder?

     The world is cold,

     we have seen.

     Pain, fear, hunger, loneliness.

    The world is cold,

     but they tell us to forget our dreams,

    tell us to cast away our comforting blankets,

    tell us to dive into the real world.

    Welcome to my nightmare,

    where my dreams are crushed to nothing.

Ice and Snow

   

 Ice and snow abound,

       a lonely heart to match.

    Falling,

       falling,

         falling,

           softly snow lands on hair and cheeks.

    No arms to wrap around to melt the cold away,

        no soft smiles directed to me.

    Hidden tears freeze on my cheeks.

    

Cold, alone,

        but I did learn to accept.

    All is well so long as I keep silent,

       as speaking only breaks.

    Frosted skin and hair,

       only glimpse to the protective strength without

           and the bleeding heart within.