poem how does it

How does it feel to know you were left in the rain?

how does it feel to know you're full of pain?

how does it feel to know that you'll forever be a stain?

on the concrete, never washing away, always seen but never acknowledged

How does it feel?

Don't you feel ill?

just look at what all you can kill

will you?

will you?

have you broken that much?

are you so untouched?

warmth, love, happiness

do you have none of this?

are you just a mess?

How does it feel to be left in the rain?

how does it feel to be full of pain?

how does it feel?

crying, screaming, cursing a name

desperately clawing to find a person to blame

is this all some cruel, sick game?

you wish it was.

so here we are

just look up at all those stars

is this what you want?

Am I being too blunt?

how does it feel to know you were left in the rain?

how does it feel to know you're full of pain?

is this the path you choose?

do you really want to purposely loose?

to give them what they want

is that what you want?

don't just give up, throw away, forfeit

how does it feel to know you were left in the rain?

how does it feel to know you're full of pain?

make it the strength, the fuel, the drive

you'll surely find a way to thrive

make them notice

you're not just the unwashable stain on the concrete

make them focus

so that they'll hear the sound of crunching leaves under your feet.

stuck zipper

Genie growled at the stuck zipper. She had been tugging and tugging, but it just wouldn't budge. She hissed as she felt a headache forming. She tugged at the zipper once more. She groaned as she began to take off the jacket like a normal shirt. She would fuss with the zipper later.

"Is the zipper still stuck?" Rosabella asked curiously.

"Yep," Genie popped the p loudly.

"Can I try my hand at it?" Rosabella asked sweetly. She felt awful for Genie who had been struggling with the stuck zipper since that morning.

Genie shrugged as she handed it over. "It couldn't hurt. Good luck."

Rosabella smiled as she held the orange jacket. It wasn't a bright orange, but a purposely dingy looking one. She sat in the floor of the theatre. She sat in one of the rows where she would be out of the way. She laid the jacket down flat. She stared at the zipper. It didn't have any hair in its teeth.

Amber Tears Excerpt

"And who is your friend Rosabella?" Bethel mused.

Genie felt as though the woman already knew who she was. But she appreciated that she was trying to get a proper greeting.

"This is my friend Genie Rocklins. Genie this is Bethel. She's a sorceress." Rosabella added.

"I also happen to own a very nice book store," she added as she stood. Genie was surprised that she was taller then the woman. Bethel extended her hand. "It's nice to meet you Genie. I hope your parents don't mind you being out so late."

"Oh they're not home today, so it's fine. It's nice to meet you too." Genie smiled as she took the hand.

"Well you've got a nice firm grip! That's a good thing." Bethel commented. "The real party is in the ballroom through that door. But feel free to explore the rooms that aren't locked. But since you're mortal, try not to leave Rosabella's side. Rosabella help her out with anything she doesn't understand."

"Yes Bethel," Rosabella nodded. She wrapped her arm around Genie's. "Let me introduce you to everyone here."

Genie nodded as she allowed Rosabella to guide her into the ballroom.

the ballroom was huge. There were several tables full of food and drinks. There were several people dancing and just chatting.

amber tears excerpt

Glenda pressed her hand on the doorway. She muttered some words and the edges of the door glowed softly. She stepped back and smiled.

Rosabella opened the door and dragged Genie inside by the arm. "Don't let go of me." She ordered in a soft whisper.

Genie smiled. "As if I would want to." She thought.

the old woman and Glenda stepped in. It was cramp and dark.

Genie heard some tapping on the wall. There was a sudden feeling of an elevator moving. At first they went up and then back down.

poem Doll

"This is garbage," the teacher says.

"Maybe I just want to make garbage?" I mentally retort.

you don't seem to understand the way i work

the wires for this doll is not normal

the cords and plugs are finicky.

broken and frayed

the wires were plugged out roughly from many places.

now the connectors don't work as you would wish

you can tape them up as much as you want

but it's not going to fix

I'm just a doll

a little doll

sitting in the room

my body daren't move.

little broken doll

the prongs in the plugs are bent.

your connectors can't quite fit

tears haven't been seen in so long

breaking down

the doll is tired

the doll is mad

the doll just wants out to end

to move on it's own

it doesn't want to connect anymore

it's hopeless you know

I'm only a defective doll

I'm only a garbage doll

do you understand the doll at all?

do you know the tape isn't working?

the doll is tired.

the doll is mad.

this doll doesn't want to be connected anymore

there's too much pain

"You're garbage."

that's all she's hearing

that's all she's feeling

it's hard for dolls who can't meet what you want

a defective doll doesn't want to be reminded anymore that the cords are frayed

that the plugs are damaged

that no matter what

fixing it will be impossible

the doll is tired

the doll is mad

the doll is done

the doll is garbage

the doll wishes to disconnect

 

 

 

poem

Tears from grey eyes fall upon the ground

somewhere there is a whispering sound

you're worries become your fears

and while you try to focus on sorting yourself

you find that you're stuck in one gear

stuck screaming at ones self

you can't move

oil & grease won't make this smooth

the others aren't waiting, moving along with out you

 

 

tub

Blood filled the tub. She had made a deep cut. Her short hair clung to her body from sweat. Her eyes looked down. Focusing on the movement of blood and suds. They formed silohouttes of images and she could only make up a story to herself.

"The doll is only a doll. It knows not what makes it. It knows not where it belongs. The connectors here don't fit it either. But the doll can't leave without that paper."

the voice was horse. It squeaked out and echoes bounced off the walls. She had used up nearly all of it earlier. Before the cutting, it seemed all she could do was cry and scream. Nothing would numb the pain. That was until she found the knife.

it was small but sharp. She wasn't quite sure why she had the excato knife. She had told herself to get rid of it after that class. She knew the danger it possesed over her. She knew she should have never had it in the first place. But they insisted she use it for class. Well she had certainly used it. The bath tub had spots that were a deep dark red. Other spots were light.

she smirked. It reminded her of her period blood in the toilet. She leaned her head against the wall of the bathtub. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open. She would close them for a bit.

the world went black but she could still hear sounds. The drip from the leaky sink was a sort of metronome to her. The sound of the air conditioner. For a long blissful time out was just this. Then foot steps drew closer. The door handle jiggled. There came a knock. She didn't feel like responding to the voice on the other side. There was another jiggle, but this one different. The door creeked opened. There was a loud commotion but she didn't paid it much attention. Apart of her was curious, but the other part was tired. Cooing for sleep and winning out. Her ears stayed opened and that was all that it would be.