Getting Help

I want to tell you

How I’m feeling

But don’t want dependence

To weigh you down.

 

I want you to see

That I’m hurting.

It should be obvious

Without words.

 

I want to know

Why nobody is around

When I’m hurting the most

But I don’t want an audience

For my tears.

 

I want to be heard

But can’t help

Soldiering on in silence.

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On the Inside

A white Victorian dollhouse

Sits on the playroom floor

Untouched.


The children run around outside

Playing games they’d get in trouble for playing

If only they weren’t

Unsupervised.


Inside the dollhouse

The parents are cold and

Unwelcoming.


They have grown out of love

From constant fighting

Lying

Cheating, and being

Untrustworthy.


After many years

The dollhouse is falling apart.

The roof is collapsing

The support beams are cracking

Termites have destroyed the foundation.

And all the while,

The kids are playing outside

Unaware.

Demise

I see a girl with emerald eyes

That glisten and ensnare

The world with it’s skies

Without the slightest care,

Free from what’s soon to destroy her.

 

I see a girl with eyes so cool

For they’ve seen the world fall

To armies so cruel

That they’ll take it all

Away for the chance to entrap her.

 

I see you with your eyes cast down

A single glance and I peruse

A distinctly permanent frown

From the emotional abuse

That you let yourself go through.

 

 

 

 

Abomination

How do you loathe me? I forbid you count the ways!

You loathe me to the shallow and short lengths

Your body engages with abandon, when in sight

Against the beginnings of nonexistence and imperfect cruelty

You loathe me from the rear of never night’s

Subtle rule, by moon and natural light

You loathe me strictly, as women abandon immorality

You loathe me pollutedly, as I unbend after scolding.

You loathe me without the leniency you call to use

On your new joys, and without my experienced denial

You loathe me with a hatred you existed to create

Without your newfound saints. You loathe me with a choke,

Frown, laughter of your demise; and, if the devil declines me

You shall but loathe me worse during our next life.

 

http://www.napowrimo.net/ antonym poetry prompt from day 30! Inspired by Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s famous poem (and one of my favorites) “How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways…”; which can be found here http://www3.amherst.edu/~rjyanco94/literature/elizabethbarrettbrowning/poems/sonnetsfromtheportuguese/howdoilovetheeletmecounttheways.html