How poetry can be an escape

She is gone

Pink tutu swirling around

The bun sitting gracefully on her precious little head.

Her arabesque completed with elegance

But suddenly she tumbles down.

Time passing by like a ticking time bomb

She is awoken by her mother with swollen eyes

The clock chimes noon, where has the time gone?

For Sylvio's clock has stopped ticking.

The phone dings, it is just an old flame

But soon her body will be engulfed by flames

Destiny is gone and she will not be coming back

My water bucket lay empty and a cold body next to me.

I heard the wailing and tried to pass on by,

Stuck behind the glass till i finally break in

Time now frozen with a body on fire.

I know Justin is with the others.

Standing at the podium I read our memories racing the clock

I opened the front door and my feet melted to the floor.

Embracing her baby i know she would have made an amazing mother

I bow to him, the deflated boy with his snapback resting on him for an eternity

Jet black lace and saggy pants

Braids griping her scalp drawing blood

Stomping echoes in her ears

Through all of this she never misses a beat

DNR

The heart beats once.

Twice. Gasp for air. Flatline.

Do not resuscitate.

She doesn't want to be saved.

Waling through fire, people trying to save me.

Hands and hearts outstretched.

Saving me is not an option.

I am steel.

Four hearts breaks.

Three people.

All in a year.

But my shadow still appears.

I have metamorphosed into a trained solider,

Marching into battle, never glimpsing back.

I scream " Stop trying to save me"

For I am steel.

They wail, tears cascading down their faces.

Hold it back solider. I will not cry. I cannot cry.

I need to be strong for them.

My mask stays on.

Run. Run away. Far away.

Away from this place death and destruction call home.

Emotions become obsolete.

Steel does not bend. 

You tell me 

You tell me that I am cynical.

You tell me that I am monstrous.

You tell me that I am boisterous.

But you cannot tell me who I am.

You tell me my hair is too kinky.

You tell me my stomach is grotesque.

You tell me my eyes don’t twinkle.

But you cannot tell me my worth.

You tell me she is grace.

You tell me she is genius.

You tell me she is gorgeous.

But you can not tell me I am any less.

You tell me that you care.

You tell me I am special.

You tell me that we are timeless.

But I tell you the same lie.

You think that you control me.

You think that you own me.

You think that you can hurt me.

And you thought I wouldn’t fight back?