#shitpoem

Hold me to tight

And I'll pop

I'm trying to fix that

I promise,

I'll try to take off

The protective caging

And I'll try

To learn

Humans

Are kind

I'm not used

To soft

And I live

In a nest

I'm not made

For cold concrete

But at least

there's some grain in my brain,

some pain in my g(r)ain,

and a lot of nonsense sprinkled everywhere

in the mental CPU...

- Sincerely,

Little legs so cute and green,

the cutest I have ever seen.

You get ready, jump up high,

I think you might just reach the sky.

Smallest eyes as dark as stone,

the smallest I have ever known.

I look at you and you look back,

you pierce my soul, know what I lack.

Bodies of such brilliant hues,

such great yellows, the best of blues.

content smile once you get food,

so withered plants,

our withered thoughts,

the wind it chants,

the rest all rots.

all broken hearts,

it slows the beat,

the soul it parts,

i was told to expect a surprise, a birthday gift, and to close my eyes. patiently i waited, and quickly i arrived, an hour long i sat in silent, not quite enjoying the drive. bad weather was brewing, and the candles were melting, “happy birthday” they sang,  as they presented me with a gift, the gift of anger. “i don’t want to live with you, this upcoming year” i was told on my birthday. stoically i said, “okay” “it’s just, i have this better offer, the rent is cheaper” they tried to explain, lies. i wanted to cry out and say, but i sat, anger bubbling, until they went away.  and then i screamed,  i screamed until my voice was raw, because why was it fair? 

and so we went, for my surprise, allegedly to visit a friend, but the trip did not go as was planned.

instead, we visited another girl, moving into a new place, i was disgraced. i helped move her in, the girl who took away my plans. she was so grateful for our help. i saw red. we didn’t visit my friend. for my birthday, the present was  grand.  it was a joke conspired to fuel my rage. the candles and frosting are ablaze.

Summer night.

Heartbreak heals

In the darkest time.

Your light shines through

To a broken mind.

Trust issues, can you

Fix it.

Exploitative thought because

I’m a misfit.

All other people sound the same

ii. The bloodshed you reveled in will not pass your family's lips. They will not speak of the winter months. For them, they never happened. You were always there. Always with them.

iii. When he tells your story, the honey is tinged with blood. There's sadness in his voice as he recalls your life. He worries that you prefer the summer months away.

iv. When you tell your story, you tell it with blood in your teeth. That's how you like it. Deep and dark and messy. You prefer the winter months. You wish you had eaten all of the seeds.