Tag Archives: advice

Problem Child

I’m hot, and when I’m not, I’m cold as ice
Get out of my way, just step aside
Or pay the price; what I want, I take
What I don’t I break, and I don’t want you…

~*~

Oh, problem child

You’ll never be worth

The trouble of anything

You cause your ma shame

And your pa’s in his grave

Still truculently screaming

.

Oh, problem child

You’re just another one

Of those wasted offspring

Ma’s beginning to cry again

And pa tells you you’re nothing

But misery and disappointing

.

Oh, problem child

Why do you have to be so

Rebellious and problematic?

Ma tries to teach you manners

As pa rudely hits you with his

Belt for talking back to him

.

Oh, problem child

We ask endlessly, just where

Did we ever go wrong with you?

Ma’s praying for your black soul

As pa tosses your bags scattering

And he’s sending you a’ packing

.

Oh, problem child

“Grow up; your life’s but a sorry mistake

And you will never amount to anything.”

That’s what your ma and pa and all your

Sneering siblings keep saying, and it’s the

Only advice you’re obediently following.

~*~

I’m a problem child
I’m a problem child, yes I am
I’m a problem child
And I’m wild…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Dancing with Roses and Resisting Temptation

Bleed me out, I know you’re the first to listen
When I scream aloud
I’m coming clean again, and I will do my best to
Show you who, who I was and who I am
Don’t write me off, please hear me out
My skin is so much thicker now…

~*~

But I must tell you, sweetheart

Blood is rarely so romanticised

These scarlet kisses on my skin

Are veined vanity, lesioned lies

.

Pain must be such a sorry thrill

By risqué reality in rancid roses

A glamour of the red that spills

Like liquid lipsticks and dresses

.

I love the way the slits do smile

I hate myself for being charmed

I love I loathe I lied I lust for lost

As rubious tears keep me warm

.

But each night, it ends the same

More of hurting for less the gain

I get sick of what keeps me sane

Then I forget, do it all over again

.

It might seem decadently pretty

Almost enough to vie for a taste

But those glass shoes won’t hold

When you’re waltzing on blades.

~*~

I feel it in my bones
Not feeling anymore
The writings on the wall
My scars are at the door…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

The Friend and the Firmament

The sky, in faint wisps of cloudy whispers, softly told her to hope, hope so hard that it hurt her warm palpitating heart and her quaint labyrinthine mind and the inner reaches of her fragile whimsical soul; simply hope, and the pressure from the hurt shall transform the sooty coal into a glimmering diamond, a luminous jewel with lethal angles cut into an impossible perfection.

So she smiled back and followed her dearest friend’s advice, and she hoped, hoped so hard and intense that it almost shattered her into a million unidentifiable pieces, but she gritted her teeth and clenched her knuckles and she held on to that painful hope, using it as a concrete anchor, hoping and holding for dear life.

Now the cunning hurt had buried itself in the deepest, most calignious nook of her spirit and being, the very entity that once nearly broke her in the first place now ironically keeping her together, and the proud, sneering, cruel hurt never left, no matter how hard she tried to expel it from within her.

She yelled frustratedly at the rapidly-fading sky and called it a liar and a traitor and an enemy and a multitude of degrading names more colourful than the most spectacular sunset that her lost companion had ever painted, asking for answers, barbed amalgamation of hope and hurt piercing itself deeper with every uttered jinx.

Yet in the end, she can only collapse in tiredness and futility, pityingly pleading, with viscid inky tears running down her cheeks and staining her moon-white cotton dress, for her dearest friend to remove the spreading hurt, the unrequited hope that poisoned her body and crippled her system and tore her soul apart.

But the sky had already turned dark, and the stars were nowhere to be seen.

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose