There are no stories in my heart where the hero triumphs,Just theatric horror where you call to the void,in hopes help comes running.That is how my love is;A deflated ball still bent on bouncing.
I have a funny way of showing it,My lips turn down when they should be up;Rather than nourish, I starveBecause thinner limbs with bulging lips are the fad.I never let my tears touch the ground but muffle them,Stifling my body's right to raze.It's never me I reach for, it's always someone else or something new,Something that shines but dims in my grasp.Tell me I'm wrong, that all that neglect was because I was coming home to me;The only time I looked at me was when I caught me unawares from the depths of parked car windows.Who will blame me for thinking I didn't love me enough.
Guess I get to wear the shining armour now,Or t-shirts with jeans,Or an over the top gown;It doesn't really matter so long as I'm doing the saving of me.
The weight of misfortune has stooped my shouldersBut I don’t intend to stop for a good while yet;I afflict my own destinyAnd don’t want anyone to mourn for my fate.I’ve made peace with God on my lossesAnd agreed with him on the epitaphsThat should be written about my senseless wars.
I am not the black cat.There were four of us;my grandmother,a black cat,a myth,and I.My grandmother oftentold us a myth.When you are ill, she said,if a black catcomes and sits on your bedit means that youwill die soon.I was only six,seriously ill.Our black cat
VIWe lack, yet cannot fix upon the lack:Not this, nor that; yet somewhat, certainly.We see the things we do not yearn to seeAround us: and what see we glancing back?Lost hopes that leave our hearts upon the rack,Hopes that were never ours yet seem’d to be,For which we steer’d on life’s salt stormy seaBraving the sunstroke and the frozen pack.If thus to look behind is all in vain,And all in vain to look to left or right,Why face we not our future once again,Launching with hardier hearts across the main,Straining dim eyes to catch the invisible sight,And strong to bear ourselves in patient pain?IX