What ails you, Woman etched in stone? Name the chisel which has Marred your granite home. What belittlement meant of you Would dare slip from mountain top? Who dares not drink in The wisdom you give crop? What ails you, Matron of the earth? May your palms create; Rekindle dying hearth. Why must these oceans weep for you? Why must these rainclouds do you wrong? How pompous must these teardrops be, Not to quench your righteous song?
The sky is everywhere, Dripping between pearly teeth and rosy cheeks, It fills flowers with dew And whistles stories through your hair. Velvet sunsets complemented your eyes, And atmospheres settled on your skin. You’d sing songs of starry nights with the words of ancient astronomers. You wanted vermillion like sun-kissed noses, Petunia like home cooked meals, Periwinkle like catching reflections, And ochre like shadows of sunlight. You’d paint the world as sky And the sky as world But you never knew that you were only making self portraits.
She hated shoes the way a child hates broccoli. Barefoot walks through moonlit alleyways made me hate them too. But I’d wear them anyway, Because I didn’t live in her world Made of nothing and everything. I lived somewhere beyond fences and cages and barbed wire. Somewhere that labeled her as a distraction. I have always been astonished that they could confine my infinity Into one, mangled word When she had expanded across oceans and continents and galaxies. All they had done Was make sure I’d never speak without being spoken to.
From a generation of girls who clawed at their skin;
From a generation of girls who were ashamed of their smiles;
From a generation of girls who were proud that they could see their ribcage if they stood up tall enough,
Comes a wave of women who know what it means to fight back.
They never expected much from us.
An army of loose-fitting skin
Hanging awkwardly around pinched up faces.
They never admitted that we had a chance
To use the spears we have been crafting since we learned how to speak.
They never wanted us to wage war.
No action, only words.
No change, only empty promises that echo between debate halls.
No gunfire, only the resonatin
Have you ever held a child in your arms,
Just hoping they wouldn't grow up living your life?
They say depression is hard to live with,
But I would think it's pretty easy to die for.
SOS signals run through my veins,
But there is a 'No Entry' sign stapled to my forehead.
I'm not quite sure whether it is better to suffer in silence,
Or to be told how you must be exaggerating.
My life conforms to the standards of my family
And the world I have to sludge through every day.
When will we scrape the grime off of the roads?
When will schools make their teachers understand what an anxiety attack is?
When will I be able to express my feelings
Without m
They say you just want attention,
But they have never heard whispers come from
Empty rooms.
They say you just need to grow up,
But they have never been afraid to step outside of
Closed walls.
They say you don't have to be such a downer,
But they don't know how you look at the world
And how all you see is what would be better
Without you.
People won't believe a word you say,
When the door moves when no one pushes it;
When faces twist in the wallpaper;
When voices tell you to jump.
They have always been in control.
They have always stayed calm and steady.
They have always had faith in themselves.
They have never been trapped
By their own mind
To Those Who Think They Aren't by InkedWords, literature
Literature
To Those Who Think They Aren't
Raindrops trickle down gutter pipes,
Falling onto the lily pads of man-made ponds.
I am recycled rainwater
And you are the spring sunshine that dries me up.
How yellow and bright do you have to glitter
To become gold?
King Midas' touch fell on puffy eyes,
And windspun hair,
An enchanting smile,
And innocence that was lost too soon.
Just how gray and broken do you have to be
To realize that you are silver?
You are rosewater lemon drops
And cucumber-melon body spray.
You are the smells,
And tastes,
And wide eyes
That make up memories.
Twisted fairytales attempt
To shove themselves off of library shelves,
But you are summer novels
Made of saltwa
It is from locked doors
And soundproof walls
I awake,
Cocooned in stained glass
And 'new book smell'.
Papercuts are adorned like
Battle scars where
I come from.
Every page is a war to be waged;
To be won.
Every page is a fight to be fought;
A wish to be fulfilled.
I come forth victoriously
From the lion den.
I toss back my cape of fire,
Flaunting my bruises and bullet holes.
I will conquer this realm,
For I am queen.
I am the ruler of tortured souls.
I am the advocate of voiceless fairytales.
From somewhere inside the girl
Who is afraid to breathe loudly
In the company of strangers,
A warrior emerges.
Quiver at the omnipotence
Of my words,
F
Eraser shavings like snowflakes,
Flittering down on eager tongues;
On anxious fingertips.
Eraser shavings like shadows,
Following the daylight of my pencil.
Eraser shavings like swords,
Parrying the attack of commas and apostrophes.
Eraser shavings like eyelashes,
Nictitating at bright lights and
Watering at smoke.
Eraser shavings like flower petals;
Eraser shavings like hummingbirds;
Eraser shavings like bullets.
No one knows where mosquitoes come from,
They tend to just show up.
I am afraid to draw my lines out too long,
So when they break off they can have something to land on.
Eraser shavings like shields;
Eraser shavings like walls;
Eras
Coffee-stained sweaters and
Parrots with clipped wings
All fall into the same nothingness.
We never find the metaphor
That fits perfectly
Or makes us seem the most profound,
But I found you and I found the
Violets growing in the shade
Of your eyelashes.
I found you and I found the
Pink sand beaches in your hair.
I found you and I found the
Life I want to lead.
I sought solace in your arms
And laughter in your toes.
I found my everything
Behind your ivory tusks;
My everything in your serenade
Falling on panicked ears.
Panic:
That is a word I never say
But often feel.
Comfort:
That is a word I love the sound of
But seldom experience.
You are m