'Cause being blue is better than being over it.

you do not protect;

you attack

I am trash too

day in and day out;

the truth is

I just needed someone

to fight along me.

But I fight

onwards forever

and I know no one

commends the effort.

I am my own general;

and the soldier who bleeds down to the bone

but also the medic who constantly patches up rotting parts.

This is the war I will never win;

and I will never surrender.

all the connections broken;

each delicate, intricate piece snapped off.

Soot-blackened, stress-warped, realism is attainable...

because I feel like a number, a product

rolling back and forth

in the graves I dug for them;

they always win;

they have to win.

And the poor women

have to endure;

sacrifice constantly

for the risk

of losing worth;

fearing to forfeit

romantic notions

just to please

just to please

just to please…

please just love me

most;

please

let me be enough

for you.

I’m done competing;

I’m done bending backwards

for the illusion of love;

the illusion of

wholesomeness.

Wicked women?

No, it is the wicked man;

the absolute downfall

of all and everything,

you'll wonder where you were

I will take

my freedom

back, I'll do as

I please, I'll be alone

with a dozen dogs

and hundred of

dozens more

plants and

I'll survive

to spire

but skin deep is all anyone ever sees.

I will rip flesh from bone;

I will long to hear your pitiful words

trying to atone.

I do not act in violence;

soft subtle movements

disarming you before

you ever realized

what I am;

with you, Grandma.

Just a moment

like it used to be...

I'm tired of feeling

all the loss of you

over and over and over;

I want to see you,

not the aftermath;

as sharp as a knives

that cut through

my little shard of peace.

Grandma, please

just a moment with you,

your sunshine smile;

tell me again all

your stories, wisdom;

let me feel your love,

not the endless reminder

that you're not here

oh please... be careful

what you wish for.

It will surely become true

in the most twisted turns,

complicated jumps

through endless hoops;

it will leave you exhausted

and wishing you never wished at all.

Be weary, be mindful...

rage, and anger,

disappointment

and fraught nerves.

I am continual anguish,

true murmurings,

fraught words.

Accused of lies, lies,

lies but I hold a candle to yours;

serpents with sweeter tongues

for what, for what?

Because He loves me

NOT.

For all your holy power,

sweet, little Jesus:

why don't you bless me