Wednesday, February 4, 2015

I love you nana


People talk about their grandmothers like they’re saints

I’ve thought about standing up and screaming bull crap

My Nana is no saint, no, not one at all

I might dare say she is the opposite

They are no happy holidays with the women of the pills

There is no happy memory in finding your Grandmother higher than a kit

 They say insanity is contagious and Oh Boy is that true

How can I love a women that has brought upon much of mother’s heartache

So tell me one more time I should let this women into my heart

No Mam, she is no saint       

Insanity is contagious and I will not be the product of these choices of that women

I am not a product of my family’s wrong doings

No sir, I am not

I will stand strong in the face of that women

Because she the product of her families wrong doing

But I will sit quietly and say yes mam, I love my grandmother but only in the memories of the past  

Sunday, February 1, 2015

IN COLOR


People ask about the juice box days expecting it to be the gold over the rainbow

I hate when people assume that

Whenever the adults bring it up I always ask about the economy, they like that question

What they don't know is that one question brings in color of the memories, the emotion

It comes in red as bloody noses at night crying so hard my little heart seemed to bleed out

Then blue when the rainy days came in and I knew I was done for

Purple the color of that stupid doctor’s office

Orange the color of the summer sun and swings

I like swings, I can fly on swings

Yellow the color of my favorite dress that I wore when Mommy told me I get more sad then most kids

Pink the color of the crayon the doctor told me to draw on the white paper.

Green the color of the tree in my back yard I would spend hours looking for lady bugs

I liked being by myself, it was better than being at the doctor’s office

Mommy told me to talk about my feelings

I didn't want to because ten year olds don't talk about the meaning of life

Simply because they are living the meaning of it

 

 But I never liked juice boxes, they made my stomach hurt