Peeling
By
Serena Mossgraves
I need to finish all the stories
That lay half written,
Instead of dreaming of new tales
Where I am a monster
That can just peel away their skin.
The theme is utterly clear
Mentally I want to strip out
Of who I am,
Peeling away from the
Responsibilities…
Yet, still I am not a
Monster.
Trading with the fae
By
Patricia Harris
They told me
They could take my pain
And steal it away.
Trading with the fae
Is worse than
Dealing with the devil
Any day.
The promises made
Are sweeter than sugar,
And the result is naught
But disappointment.
Song of Home
By
Patricia Harris
The song of home
Is leading me
To the path
Of memory.
The notes lifting
My heart broken
Into a place of peace
Where only happiness exists.
Blindfold
By
Serena Mossgraves
I have found it too easy
To don the darkness
Of the intentional
Blindfold.
If I can not see
Then it will not
Hurt me,
If I am but
Blind,
Then you are
But a figment
Of my mind.
Forgotten Flowers
By
Patricia Harris
Faded blooms
Floating down stream
Forget me nots
Don’t mean anything.
When you promised forever
With flowers in your hand,
I believed you with no demand…
But here I sit with forgotten flowers
And forever but a dream.
You Saved Me
By
Patricia Harris
You say that you feel
like you were a curse…
before you I was a soul
lost in the void.
I had no idea
what I should do
or who I was…
I had never seen
anyone else
remotely like me.
until you.
you saved me,
by introducing me
to who you are.
Sirens lullaby
By
Serena Mossgraves
Blood in the street,
youth for the reaper to greet.
regrets pour from the end
of the gun like just another rainstorm .
Perhaps the community is so used
to playing the game,
oh well that's just fireworks again...
and the reaper's approach
will go unnoticed.
Or the sirens will be the lullaby
the infants remember
because of how oft they have
heard them .
Welcome Back
By
Patricia Harris
The door was closed
So long ago on who
We were, forgotten children
Pretending to be human
In the world turning us into
Monsters.
Taking away the idea
That were allowed to
Play, allowed to be
Happy…
Welcome back
To the forgotten places
Where childhood stows.
What the Dead Know
By
Serena Mossgraves
Regrets add weight
To the soul,
Leaving knowledge
Of what life has been
Stripped away
From all that was
Worthwhile.
Instead of fighting with
What the Dead know,
The living should be
Thinking about how
To live instead.
Caustic
By
Patricia Harris
The words that drip from your tongue
burn deeply into the soul,
Caustic like the acid,
Perhaps I am lost in a fog
of the brain melted by what you had to say…
I stand here broken,
wondering if I have made
many the wrong choice,
Walking through the acid rain…
for someone who will never see
the damage inflicted.
For the one who will always
cause me pain.
Pattimouse 