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Mother’s Day: roe vs wade think piece. A letter.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Because you chose to be a mother.

However, not everyone wants to make the same choice you made.

Roe vs wade being overturned means the end of women’s rights and lives and will set us back decades.

We will be back to back alley abortionists, hangers up the uterus and women forcing their bodies abusively to remove a child they cannot support.

To even more men beating their wives or mistress until the unwanted child is out or killing her and solving the problem, once and for all.

A woman’s body is not the governments or anybody’s business but her own. A persons body is theirs. The children you are fighting for are not alive, and I cannot understand how you put their value above the free will of a person who is living.

In the argument of “adoption is an option,” something I once believed quite wholly, you are correct, sure. But most recently on that topic, Supreme Court justice Amy Coney Barett spoke about how women’s duty now is to birth babies for those who can afford to buy them.

That is sick and corrupt at its core. It is not about the life but about the monetary value for the government.

It is about creating workers and prisoners out of those who will be born to those in all forms of poverty or unluckiness.

There are thousands of children in foster care but that doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of children born to unfit parents.

Unfit, in this situation can mean any or all of the following: negligent, abusive, emotionally unavailable, unloving, addicted, angry, inept, uneducated, or underage.

Not to mention, these children who are born into these lives are likely to suffer until they die, whether it is early suicide or later in life.

In a world where states are trying to lessen the age of consent and marriage, why would anyone allow for the law that gave way to right of privacy and bodily autonomy (the ability to decide what happens to your own body), this becomes terrifying in the face of what may happen to literal children who are not even aware of what is happening.

Our brains don’t develop fully until we are 25, if you look at the research. That means any decisions before that age are undeveloped and if you have any traumas or other issues through your life, you will be further undeveloped.

I was having uneducated sex with men I barely knew from all ages by the time I was 12 and by the time I was 25 I guarantee you I lost track but my body count was approaching the thousand-mark and if I was not able to access birth control I would have become pregnant.

During the majority of that time, I was in major emotional distress because of trauma that I learned now would have began in the womb, when my mother had depression and stress while pregnant with me and continued well into my teen years.

Because I was raised to believe abortion was immoral, and I was already suicidal, this was an easy choice that I had in my head and I almost wonder if part of me wanted it to happen so I had a valid excuse to end my life.

I spent a lifetime treating my body like it meant nothing because of how I was raised and educated and I finally value it at 26 and the government thinks they should have a say if I get pregnant and whether or not I can abort it?

You think you should have a say? Your god should have a say?

Your god killed infants who were breathing in troves. Your god destroyed an entire world before this and you are concerned about clumps of cells in a living body that is not yours.

If you don’t approve of abortion, don’t have one. But do not allow your children, your loved ones, or the world to suffer because of your beliefs. That’s not fair to them.

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Comes to still; the end.

The end looks so different from the beginning,

But so parallel.

In the spring we welcomed green growth, plants, people, life.

Summer housed what I would call blooming, the greenest of green hues and laughter.

Fall is a transition, harder than we have time to notice

In all the hustle and bustle of life.

We say goodbye.

And hello again,

This time to a cold and long season.

Winter brings

New things, though perhaps for now unseen.

It is a time of solace, of quiet, of healing, of resting, of gentleness.

It’s a time to be.

To work at your own pace and on your own pace.

To breathe.

To stop and take inventory of your gratitudes

To figure out how to move forward with confidence

Into a new year

A new spring

A new blooming

And a new death,

A new piece of yourself to tuck into bed

And watch sleep.

In this, there is peace.

Believe me.

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Shame, a poem.

Colonialism

Runs through my veins

Paints my skin

White

It makes me so angry

That it took me

So long to see

I was blind.

But I see it now,

I’m a moth

Drawn to

Light.

Tired

Of the wrong

I want to make it

Right.

My ancestors

Didn’t know

The difference

Between

Love

And ownership

And that

Was a fatal flaw

In their machinery,

And a fatal flaw

In mine

But I choose

To change

It starts today.

It’s not about

What I do

Think

Or say

It’s about

Choosing

What is

Good

For more than just

Me

And my family

My survival

My bloodline

Pouring

Down

A ladder

Made by stepping

On others.

No longer

Will I be this

Cold

And hard

And calloused

Of a heart.

I will be open

And vulnerable

And believe

In the good

Even when

The bad

Has shown itself.

The shadow

The light.

Duality

In life.

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Secret to staying

Is there

Some secret

To staying

That keeps itself

At arms reach

From me?

Will I be running

Forever?

If the secret to staying

Exists

I’m begging to know.

A secret to staying

Sounds

A little bit

Drastic

But

I assure you

It absolutely is.

This is

My entire life

And I am afraid

I will throw it away

Because of the days

That are boring

And slow

And grey

And cold

And where I feel

Far away

From everyone I know.

How do you connect?

Bring yourself

Back down

To earth?

You put out

Your roots

Plant

A seed

And watch

A tree

Grow.

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Scarlet’s bedroom quartAntine blues Station

Tw: quarantine, mental health

I was reading a report about people in quarantine who are suffering a loss of themself.

The writer said she didn’t think she’d ever be herself again.

But personally?

I feel more myself than ever before.

I have used this time to mourn, and then say “enough” and begin to study, learn skills, and better myself in any way I could in between some of my not- so – healthy coping skills.

I cooked a lot of food, learned a lot of recipes, started to understand what my body was saying because I was finally going slow enough.

I bought a bike, re-learned how to ride it, and am still getting my body adjusted to doing it more frequently.

I started a garden, I watched every day since February from a seed to a stalk to a blossom

and I do feel like I have bloomed.

And there is only continuing from here.

I will still grow. Still learn. Because we never stop.

But I have been broken so many times that ….

I won’t let this break me down any more.

I will build from ash.

I will be reborn.

There is life after this.

And no, we won’t be the same.

We will be stronger.

Whatever you have done in your cocoon you will see when you come out.

Some of us cocoon multiple times.

💙

These have been Scarlet’s

Bedroom quarantine

Blues.

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You are asleep and I…

I am a bird

Figuratively not

Literally

In the way that I

Both

Love and hate

To be bound

To be caged.

I am a bird

Figuratively not literally

In the way that I

I long to stretch my wings

To fly but the moment

The cage opens

I clip my own wings

To stay on the ground.

I want to free myself

Just enough

That I can put myself

In a different prison.

A different box.

A different label or a different

Thing.

I am my hero and villain and damsel

All at once

Both a friend and foe to me

I bite my own hand

As it feeds

I put too much

Down my throat

It all turns to mush

And I blame the food

Instead of the hand

That feeds.

I act like it is poison

But truly

It was me

All along

Pecking away

At anything to distract me

From the fact that

I am a bird

Figuratively

Not literally

In the way that I

Am made to fly.

I hope that in the future

When I open my own

Cage (not of ribs)

I spread my wings

And don’t picture myself

Hitting the ground again.

I hope that in the future

I am less afraid

To be what I am.

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God damn it is heavy.

I roll the joint

between fingers

with short,

jagged nails.

I’ve been

biting them again

Between

Overeating

And over thinking

About the bottom of

The bottle

Sitting beside me.

Is it survival still?

Survival

Or distraction?

Or are they

one in the same

If we only focus

On reality

Do we lose

our entire minds?

My skin

Is dry

Flaky

Even though

all I fucking do

Is drink water

And pee it back out

Twenty minutes later

I swear to god

All day long

My lips

Are chapped,

Rubbed raw

Against the paper

My lungs

Breathe in

Deep

Set it all on fire.

Start over again.

Start with me.

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dreaming pt 1

Nobody has ever lived my life before me

Though I have lived so many lives.

I think maybe that’s why I

Lose so much sleep at night

Maybe I’m getting messages

From a life I used to live

Reminding me that I

Cannot go back to it.

And I wouldn’t if I could,

For everything that’s happened,

I have to say I’m good.

Everything I’ve done until now

Got me to where I am.

So I’ll take the gift I am given

And when the enemy comes I’ll stand

And I will not raise my arms no,

And I will not raise my white flag

And I will not raise a hand.

I will tell them that I’m sorry

That they feel

Like nobody understands.

I’ll tell them that they can take me

If that’s the master plan

But they can never have

What makes me my own man:

My spark,

And you could carve

My heart

Out of my chest

And beat it against yours

To the sound of my last breath

And I

I will still live.

My light will carry me

Through oceans I will swim.

I’ll laugh in the valley of darkness

And I’ll dance across the cliffs.

I will say these words

With a smile on my lips.

Because I am not afraid of you

Nor dying by your hand

I am only afraid of the day

That I stop trying to understand

That which I don’t

And I don’t understand me

But I do understand that my

inner light

will set me free

And I control my actions

Even in my dreams,

Because I am creating

As long as I breathe.

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Dreaming again

I had that dream again last night.

You know the one.

Where I’m trying to stop the bad guy from winning

But I don’t know what he hasn’t won

And I don’t know what he wants

I know I have help

I know I’m not alone

But I know I’m also in a place

That isn’t quite home

It’s unfamiliar

In all the familiarity

And In the dream I could be scared

But nothing seems so scary

I am not afraid of failure

I’m so sure I’ll win

Even though I don’t know

What the thing I’m winning is.

I know they are bad though

And i know they aren’t kind

I know they want my magic

But bitch back off it’s mine

I will run to the ocean

I will hide myself at sea

I will throw my body into the bay

If i am the key.

And the giant sea turtle

My sister left there

Will notice me crying

And I hope he will care

And offer me a ride

To get away

From the bad guys.

I’ll wave to them on shore

I’ll tell them thanks for everything

But I don’t need it anymore

Because I wasn’t there to trade

And I appreciate the kindness

But I don’t appreciate the shade.

I learned a lot about myself

And about this crazy dream.

I learned to run away because

I don’t have to give up anything.

And I won’t give up

The thing I finally found

Because what I found

Is me

My self

My soul

And what I had is heart

And I won’t ever let it go.

You can’t take my joy from me,

Go make your own.

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if you know It’s how they do, it’s how it be sometimes.

If you know it’s how they do it’s how it be sometimes:

I Don’t have energy for vampires anymore

They can’t get underneath my skin

And they can keep knocking on my door

But I will never let them back in.

I hear them howling at the door now

“Little pig, little pig”

But I won’t let them in

By the grey hair on my chin,

My determination is grim

And I’m ahead in the game that

I never thought that I would win.

Not that anyone asked me to play

But if you asked me, I liked it better that way

And I’m tired of being like that

That “me vs them”

But they can’t get in my boat

Because they won’t row

And then we won’t go

And eventually we’ll sink

And vampires cant swim

And so then I’ll let myself be dragged in

And next thing I know I can’t let go again.

Because I need to save me

But instead I try to save them

And bodies get heavy

When they don’t have any life

I know cause I was a vampire once

But now I’ve seen the light

And I don’t sleep in a coffin all day

anymore

And stay up all night

I’m not dead, bitch.

I’m finally alive

And I’m rooting for me

With all of my might.

I won’t lie,

vampires are lovely,

Pale and polite.

Full of shy glances

And flirty goodbyes

Vampires can be kind,

But watch out because they bite.

And I am tired of the taste of blood,

I’m tired of the night.

I’m tired of the dark

And I’m ready for the sun.

So when I eat garlic may it heal me,

Or at least give me delight

And may I see my reflection

And it not give me a fright,

May I keep my strength

And my will to survive.

May I keep my memories

Of my past undead life

May my darker side teach me

What I need to learn so that I may learn to thrive.

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A party; tea for two.

You’re invited to tea

But you don’t have to come

I hope that you do because

I will fill up your cup

I don’t expect you

to fill mine too

Because I’ve got enough

Tea for two

Plenty for me;

Enough for you.

If you can just listen

If you’re kind when you speak;

If you can be gentle,

If you know how to be weak.

If you can accept

Who I really am;

I will sit here

And hold your hand.

Maybe you’ll just visit once,

Maybe you’ll see me twice.

Maybe after a few years

Ill again cross your mind.

Trust me, my friend,

You will cross mine,

And we will cross that bridge in due time;

Maybe in the morning,

Maybe tonight.

Maybe toward the ends our lives.

And I am sorry;

For if I leave you behind

But sometimes paths

Do not stay aligned.

Maybe they cross

Maybe they connect

Maybe they are

Just a couple of steps.

But I’ll hold your hand

Until it’s time to let go

And I’ll trust my heart

So that I will know

When the time is right

To tell you goodbye

And let go of your hand;

And it’s ok to cry,

But

I hope that you will

Understand.

I still love you,

You are a part of me,

But sometimes we

Really have to leave.

To become who we are

Meant to be.

To become the people

Our own selves need.

To be our own island-

To be our own sea.

To know what it means

To really be free.

I’m Not Frank Ocean but

My mother used to ask me

Did a tornado come through your room?

I have never been the kind

To keep my clothes confined.

And at that age,

I scattered toys everywhere like I was trying

To use up every square foot of my space

But a tornado never went through my room,

Just me.

A tornado did go through our house

A couple nights a week

But it stayed behind doors

And pretended to be a mouse

Late at night you’d hear it squeak

Until you fell asleep to the sound of it

My parents always swore that our house

Wasn’t haunted

But I saw ghosts everywhere I looked

I heard them at night,

Outside my door

Sometimes they crept in,

Uninvited,

To sit on my bed and keep me

From getting too warm.

The worst thing that haunted my house, though,

Was heartache.

It shook the walls,

Reduced me to rubble,

And left me somehow

Smaller than I was

When I was younger.

My father took his life

After an argument

When I was thirteen years old

And he took mine with it

In his wake

Because I spent the next ten years

Wondering what it would have been like

If he would have stayed

And thinking I wasn’t worth staying for

And wasting away

Afraid of the next thing

Life would take

If I wasn’t careful

And didn’t hold onto it

So hard

That it might break.

Come to think of it,

What came through my room was

A tornado after all

Because That’s what I called

Myself

When I was not ok

Because I left a mess

Behind me

Just like my father before me

And I need to get into

Better habits

Like breathing in the morning.

Going through it

Trigger warning: suicide

When my dad committed suicide, I was thirteen years old.

He didn’t write any notes,

he was an alcoholic who frequently got in fights with my mom during drunken nights, threatened suicide, told her he couldn’t live without her. a stubborn and proud man, but by the end of the he night would tell her where to pick him up.

The night he died, he called her one last time so the story goes.

He didn’t know where he was anymore.

He stopped talking,

Hung up.

Stopped answering.

It’s funny because this paints him tragic and villainous but

I remember the origami master who would fold paper planes for me perfectly every time.

The magician who juggled for and did card tricks for me, his astonished audience.

The long nights on our front porch

As he tossed another cold one back

And bellowed along beautifully to the country Sirius radio channels

A small town in Kansas, on the corner of our street, lights on until late,

Singing along, listening to whatever story he had for me,

I hung onto every word he said,

But I can’t remember them now.

He saw my name in lights, saw me living the life

He never got himself.

The last time we went on a road trip we listened to Tim McGraw’s album “live like you were dying”

And I, a 12 year old not quite too ashamed to be buddy buddy with their dad, singing along to every song we knew the words to.

When he died, I sat with one of the songs on repeat for days, ironically a song called “kill myself”,

Which I, already depressed and in love with the drama, knew every word to prior to his death.

I sat in our spot,

Sang along,

Wondering how the rest of the world kept moving

How something so shocking could happen to me,

how nobody else could feel it.

How Nobody else could see the atom bomb that hit our house

Even if they talked about it

In hushed tones

Small towns and that gossip,

Tea party central,

Those hungry eyes, begging for a taste

Of even scraps from our broken table, and I’m so glad I’m not there anymore.

I sit here, almost 13 years later, realizing this year is pivotal in the way I’m turning 26,

That he’s been gone almost longer than I had him here.

I listen to that album, breathe in deep

Realize we don’t always get to leave

A note.

We don’t always get

Words to die by

Someone by our side

So we have to live this life

Like we are dying

And that is so cliche

Yeah, you’re right

But if we don’t, nobody knows

How we feel

Or what we want

Or dream about at night

We dont even remember sometimes

And I’m not saying that because I’m high

Because I am but that’s not the point

The point is that

Against all the odds I haven’t drank in over a year and I realize part of the itch is in remembering the good old days instead of the mixture of good and bad

Remembering that

I am so much better

When I’m sober

And I’m not counting my bong

Praying or preying?

A heart and a shooting star

Maybe one in the same

I fell far from the sky I was born in

And then i changed my name.

It’s the Fourth of July,

We’re in the home of the brave

So why is it when I say

God bless the u s of gay

With a smile on my Face

am I still so afraid?

Hate crimes running rampant

Cities full of blood and rage

And you think it’s those black flags

Like they’re pirates stealing stage

You wave your star spangled banner

With that blue line that you praise

And you spit at people who hold hands

With those whose Genitals might be the same

And yet you scowl and curse those whose skins are different shade

I’m getting goosebumps from your hypocritical gaze

And I know that I am one too

I know that I have lips that preach hate

When I see people doing those things

That take lives and cause pain

Can I fix it? If I start with myself?

If I’m honest, I’m not sure if I can help

Anyone until I focus on me

And undo all these things that

This shitty system taught me

Under floorboards that are rotting

Secrets in the tombs of men that

We have long since just forgotten

While our lips speak the names of men

Whose hearts were black and solemn

Rotted by the thoughts that they chose

And we, we act just like them

We wave our banners, write our words

Like we are the apex predators that

We’ve taken time to slaughter,

Rid this world of anything that

Strikes our hearts with fear

Instead of taking time to

Have a patient ear

To listen to the words instead of thinking what to say

To write it down honestly instead of changing words to play

It up like you are a hero when you’ve been

A villain, a monster, a damsel, a friend

Who turned around and pointed fingers

With tongues that Braided lies

But my tongue it spits truths as often as

A spider catches flies.

If there were ever witches

And I am sure there were

We are still here in silence

because we have

To save this earth

They took us out in masses,

Took their masses to the church

Drowned us in the rivers they baptized in

After they rewrote our words

They made a decision to only love one man shaped like a god

And

That man was a devil in disguise

And by that I don’t think satan,

Their words are wrong.

If love is patient, love is kind,

Then why is he so angry

When we turn from his path

And become our own deity?

Write our own story

Find our own glory

I renounce the name that I once carried on my back

I give it up, it is not my home, and it only brings me sorrow

And while I thank you for the time you gave me, it was not my time to borrow

I am here now, living for today instead of dreading my tomorrow.

With a new life, a new reason to keep going,

A new motivation to hold hope in

The palm of my left hand,

And my heart in the right

It’s not on my sleeve because it gave me flight

And I

No longer want to flee

I simply want to meet the monsters chasing me

And greet them open armed,

I believe they don’t mean harm

They simply mean to teach me how to carry myself forward

Into motion, into a plan that isn’t hopeless,

Romantic, thinking things as broken

Being too afraid and leaving everything left unspoken.

I may never come back but it doesn’t mean I’m gone

It only means I’ve figured out I lived so much of my life wrong

For me and only me

And it’s time to sing a song

Of freedom and love and light

And it’s not what I was told

It’s much better than I ever thought when I was so alone

That I convinced myself I’d

Never find a home if it’s the home of the rabe

Never have a family if it’s only by blood

Never have the experience of love

If that was the American dream

It wasn’t what I wanted

And it still isn’t, that shit is haunted.

By ghosts of those we murdered and forgot then

Told stories about

Called savages and made them sick and took their lighter skinned kids away

And then I see you on your knees when you pray

As if your blood hasn’t been the only blood left in vein

And you think I say his name in vain

God damn

God damn

God damn

I’m sick of it

God damn

god damn

god damn

We’re getting into the thick of it

I want free love, less war, different kinds of legal drugs, doctors who give a fuck, and a community that holds hands when we are hurting

Instead of using hands to point fingers and paint pictures that tell stories

About a god with such glory

That nothing else comes close

But if we were made in his image

What the fuck do you mean, no,

We can do whatever we want so

Glow team glow

Stardust and scar’s trust

I am made of skin and bones,

Nails, sweat, tears, the ocean, hair, the words out of my mouth every day since I learned how to speak, every word said to me, every book I’ve ever read

And the mistakes I could regret

But choose to refer to in the future

A list of do and done but not do not

Because I’d there’s anything I’ve learned

It’s that experience is worth it if you let it be

A man I knew over a screen told rooms full of people that he had spent so much time teaching people and they all left to create their dream with what he taught

And when he said it he spat it with venom

Shrugged

Body language; body slumped

He reminded me of another man I only ever saw on a screen

Whose name rhymes with rump.

But this man was trying to teach

A room ful of people

To lead his life’s ambition for him

never leave him behind them

But

That’s not how the world was really made

Why are we so obsessed with slaves?

So ready to create

With mass destruction

Ready to capture others and put them into action for our plan,

Not theirs.

To only believe in one god is to be deceived, to allow the fox into the henhouse and to let go of all possibility outside of this social norm, this construct constructed with the purpose only to control the masses and by that those who weren’t white men at mass, those that got lynched, beat, raped, murdered, whether it was a slave, servant, wife or mistress, someone homeless or homely.

Our prisons are full of people who don’t look like the white man depicted in most modern day tellings of the Bible and yet it tells that HE himself spent his time with the homeless, the outcasts, the victims, the harlots.

He washed their feet and forgave them their sins but damned them for continuing to do them?

No.

He said baby live free

Live happy

Breathe easy

You’re gonna be fine.

No, it’s not all like the white man wants

The Pharisees

But it’s fine, you know?

It’s all been told before

And good isn’t as good as

You used to think

And the villains make more sense now

But they always did to me

Paint me with your paint brush any color, paint me blue, red, yellow,

You still won’t find another

That suits me more than me myself and I

I am so grateful today that I am alive.

Sunny streets and simplicities

Outside of a Target in Oregon a mother stood with a sign asking for help

Her child sitting next to her maybe ten years old.

I walked across the street with two crumpled fives in hand

Some days I’m not sure how I’m going to make ends meet but I believe

That what goes around comes around

So I walked into target to get the few things I needed and left with two bottles of water for them,

And I would have grabbed three if I knew the dad would be there too when I came back.

I walked across the busy street when the cars cleared and handed her the waters

For her to say

“You’re kidding me.”

I said I’m sorry

Because that’s all my mouth knows how to form

When I know I cannot do much more.

But today is warm

And they deserve water

Shelter

Safety. Softness.

And yet they can’t afford it.

Eating elephants

The reflectively app on my cellphone told me that Thursday is for starting new habits

Which means I suppose looking at myself more constructively. Some things are easier when I’m high. I’m less anxious but also less focused and I’m not always focused to begin with but I’m also really great at multitasking for the most part and I’m getting better at being a good listener

I’m a critical thinker but really I’m often looking for a shortcut. The easiest way to point z to a without telling you the alphabet backwards.

I like metaphors. They’re like open doors

Interpretation

Take what you get

As it’s given

A lady with a red scarf walked into the house across the street and I only looked up just in time to watch her and the flowing fabric disappear behind the door

It’s funny how much I can observe that quickly.

Imagine if I actually spent time on the things I want to be doing instead of the things I’ve been conditioned to want

By others or myself.

I always want someone who doesn’t want me

And it’s not healthy

Instead of getting to know someone

Who is into me

For who they are

And not who they could be.

That’s an ugly truth.

I tend to write stories in my head when I’m not spending my energy writing the truth down on paper like this

Or In this case along with 1135 other notes in my phone.

You can see why it can be hard for me to stay organized.

There is soooo much happening at once

In this world inside of me

Meaning I have a high capacity for detail to a certain degree of focus

And I can only focus on one thing for so long.

That’s a bad habit.

I’m working on it, like I am everything else, and you can’t eat the whole elephant at once so

Ganesh will clear the path whether I think I want it or not

And eventually

I’ll be where I need to be

And I’ll understand why it took so long.

Mixing colors

It is easy being breezy

It’s not easy being blue

It’s better when you’re yellow

It’s better when you’re you.

I have been painted shades in between

For more than enough lifetimes for me.

I want to change,

and that I’ll choose

For me a

better brighter hue

No longer blue, no longer lonely

Taking my own hand in matrimony

I marry myself

I mix my colors

For one plus one

Become another

So if I can balance in between

Not yellow, not blue

Somewhere in green.

After the world

I’m rewriting my past,

And repaving my path

To the future

May habits no longer

Hold me back.

I am one of the lucky ones

One of the ones who carries scars

Like a name on a cross or a house

Marks, on a humans skin

Like shooting stars.

I am not sorry this time

That I escaped barely scathed

Wounded and stripped of my ego

Given a taste of the world at its worst

To see it at its best

I praise this earth as I step

Forward

Pray to the gods above, around, within,

That they hold me together

Bind me like a spell

As i spell my name

Write it across a page

In a way I would never guess

If you’d have asked me

when I was younger

Because I had no future.

I saw nothing full speed ahead

And set sail

Destined to fail

To die.

And I did.

I buried that girl

On the beach last year

I shed so many tears

I am so blessed

to be left with

Nothing but

Scars as souvenirs

Of the life I led

Before life led me here.

A healing heart spills

I bring love to every table

I have ever had the chance to eat at

Been served poison and drank it

Thanked them anyway

Served them in the bedroom later

Saved them

From theirselves

Just long enough

To lose myself

In their eyes

Always Like a river

They cry

Because they couldn’t forget her

And I

Was so tied up in

The idea

Of fixing something

Broken

That

I’d forgive them

Again and again

Because I couldn’t be her.

Through every sleepless night

And every slammed door fight

Every love letter

They didn’t write

Or forgot to give to me

While they held her

In our bed

While they would sleep

The night away

And nobody would ache for me

So I became numb

Forgot what

I was made of

Filed myself down

So that I’d fit in

To the frame that

She left on the wall

Like a shadow

That I could never stand up to

And I don’t have to.

If I knew then

What I know now

I would have known there was an after

And that when love

Meets itself

It finds it is a

Beautiful disaster.

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