YOU THINK I'M BAD AT POETRY WELL EAT THIS!!!
My Life By Ruby Strait
Once she would walk upon the ground
Silent steps
Taken by a lonely spirit whose past
Follows her faded figure down the worn path.
Life with its deadly words and images follow her closely,
Snapping at her heals and screaming her history
She dares not listen to the spirits that follow her closely
But spins into a dream.
She sees the mist around her and looks far into the distance.
Seeing nothing but the white air, she is afraid and feels lost
In the empty void of her dream where she waits.
Waiting for something that is hidden in the area around her.
As she stares into the distance a black cloud swirls slowly towards the girl.
She is but a small girl and is afraid of the figure moving slowly
Through the misty galaxy.
She looks closely at the image that is forming in front of her.
She sees this figure take shape and as the black cloud changes its color
She can smell a scent known long ago before she was gone from the known world.
The smell is of tobacco and worn clothes, never changed
The smell continues to fill her non -existent nasal passage.
As her mind swirls into a vivid interrogator or the mind
She is asked over and over again to see if she
The angel of darkness herself can remember that smell.
Them all being long lost; the smells all being gone for the moment
Locked into the back of her buried memory.
The memory, in the coffin of her life, is where she must go for many different things are going through her mind.
She sees the outside of the coffin, faded wood and brass handles.
She could still see the fingerprints of the men who had carried her to her grave.
She could still hear the cries of the innocent bystanders as they watched the coffin pass by.
She cried there in that moment
Crying tears of air as she remembers who the stranger standing in front of her is.
She can now see the mist clear away from his face.
His eyes are set deep into his skull and his skin is pale
While his hair is decaying on top of his mentally ill head.
She looks deep into the dark sockets and sees a light flicker.
The light is one that she remembers seeing in her father’s eyes whenever he would beat her mother,
The same flicker in her mother and brothers eyes when they cried after being abused for hours.
She goes back to those tortured memories of watching her mother being choked to death,
The evil stories of her brother being throne down the stairs by that insane man.
She looks into the face of her killer and one word escapes her lips.
Father.
Such a person who was not fit to spend his life in a house with the sane
While he was in no such condition to do so he did.
He tortured his family
Gave them no opportunity but to live a life full of fear and dread.
The children of the house would go to sleep every night wondering if they would wake up their mother being dead.
But what they would get was a suicide.
He would take overdoses and be rushed to an emergency room over and over again.
As a child he was given up for adoption.
Parents uncaring; he would grow up to be the same way.
Adopted a year later and then put into a mental institution
Bellevue, you may have heard of it.
A place where the mentally unstable go to live,
And as she shakes her non-existent head to rouse herself from these memories.
She then looks again at this now innocent looking young boy.
She now sees him not as an enemy, but more as a forbidden unconditional love.
For she cannot love or hate him.
She resents him for what he has done to her, but she cannot hate her own kin.
He seems so kind now that he is dead and as his body decays quickly before her eyes she realizes that he is lost to her, dead like wood burned to ashes.
She will live on in spirit forever but now that he is dead to her in her mind she can never revisit the thoughts of him without going into a depression.
As her ghostly spirit cries
she cannot see him for he is dead
But she can smell his rotting corps
She can still be his daughter
But she will never be his .
This is why when the wind blows around the residents of her family they can hear the soft whispers of her cry for the lost soul of her father.
The only father she could ever have is lost to her in a way that could never be fixed, for as the ashes blow down the worn path she looks after them with glossy eyes.
For even if she did try she could never put the ashes back together to make his figure for now she cannot even remember what he looks like.
The only thing she can remember about him was the glint of hate and death in his eyes, his everlasting need for death and nastiness.
His memory would always lurk at the back of her mind,
But never in the front
Or in the middle, for such a horrible phenomenon
Should always be remembered last.
She would not forget what evil made her life because it is hard not to remember that.
She would most likely revisit the screaming memories that still bite at her heels and would do nothing but cry and sink into a deep pool of depression.
Forever drowning in a sea of hurt she would hold her stomach and be sure to get rid of all the locked up feelings by yelling her hate of the man who had ruined her life and she would yell it to the world.
She would have done this often when alive
But now that she is dead she can do nothing but weep and the tears that perspire from the air that she is made up of will only replenish themselves into her being.
She spends eternity
Death
In sadness
Wishing that she could only be happy.
The only problem with this scenario is that she will be happy only when her father is dead.
Dead
For all he has done to her and her family.
She is deep in thought as she pictures her father’s bloody carcass
Strewn with knifes and ripped apart by savage dogs and thrown around by men in black.
His brains dumped in a near by trash bin
And within her thoughts she can see that as people pass by they do not stare in disgust because they cannot see him as the innocent dead but as a dead criminal
Who had sucked the life from his own family,
Leaving them as skeletons with only hearts to guide them through the darkened smoke that that poor girl drifts through in her thoughts.
That same girl dreams endlessly about the days when her father wasn’t ill and when he smiled and it was like the sun was shining,
He never doubted the fact that he was mentally ill.
He forced himself to think he was fine and never was pitied because he had done so many horrible things
And still had chosen not to be responsible for them.
He would die a most horrible way and never come back to the living world,
Never again would he pass back through the spiritual realm.
He would stay in the scorching, ash filled hell
Screaming every sin he had created, his skin burning to a crisp, and he would not listen to the voices because he thought he was alright,
But he was not,
He was a sick as a rabid dog,
As deadly as a snake’s venom.
And as sly as a cheetah slinking through the tall grass of the African Plains.
Unseen by its prey it lie’s in the grass
Hidden…until the attack.
When the animal leaps forward only then can its prey remove itself from the picture.
But will the prey move or will it fight for its dear life.
No animal of prey would ever stay placed during an attack.
We will never know if either prey or predator escapes the scene.
But we do know that the young spirit that still walks down the worn path will never forget her past or go to far into her future, but only remember the one who made her life
Her father
The predator
The prey
Her killer.
But not just the killer of her natural body,
But of her spirit and spiritual being.
That is why in her sleep she walks
Her spiritual being is unseen as it passes
Through the darkened hallways of her mind.
Her mother can feel her presence
And goes forth into her daughter’s room.
The perspiration running down her face
Tells the world that she knows
What is behind the closed doors
Of her daughters room.
As she pushes her now damp hand
Against the wood grain of the door
She can hear the deadly screams but only she can hear them.
She and only she
Can hear the calls of her daughter from the other side of moving wall.
As she slides her arm forward the hinges on the door creek and the door opens ever so slowly,
Almost as if it were to take an eternity to open.
But it only would seem that way
And only for a minute or two
For when the door finally would open she would only see her daughter standing up and out of bed,
Walking in circles endlessly.
She would tell her daughter to go to sleep, but then she would notice that her daughters eyes are closed, not yet open enough to be awake.
She would then guide her sleeping child to the safety of her bed and then leave the room as quietly as she left.
But what she saw was only her imagination,
Although she thought she brought her daughter back to her bed
She had brought the spirit of her daughter back instead
While the body of her daughter dangled from the ceiling.
Neck in a tangle of ropes
Blood spilling out of every crevice made by a knife in her carcass.
She had been hanged by the killer
The prey
The ill
The untamed
Her father.
Her eyes stayed shut for now she dreamed of better days.
Even though she is dead she would still dream
For her dreams are never ending
And her imagination never limited
But her life had been shortened
At the age of 13.
Her blood being the same color
Of her name.
Her body being curved instead of strait.
Her wrists being cut instead of mended.
She had done this to herself
She had not meant to do this much damage
For when her brother awakened next morn he would find her body
And scream.
His scream would shatter the ears
Of all who were in a square mile of the damned house.
The strange noise that he made was one of shock
But more like a horrified shriek.
He had seen a nightmare.
His sibling
His family
His sister
Hanging, like a rag doll from the light in the room.
Suddenly the ceiling of the room began to shake
And as the ceiling gave way to the weight of the young girl’s body
As she and the light clambered to the floor her mother and brother
Both standing at the door at this time
Could hear all of the bones in her body smash and break.
The strangest things happen in life.
Things you wouldn’t expect
And that is why when her mother and brother walked away that night
Her spirit became restless.
Her heart, which had been a place of bountiful love and replenishment
Was now filled with hate and instead of being warm and welcoming
Was now a place of cold
Hard steel.
It was like a metamorphosis has happened
With and ice-cold chill racing down her mangled body.
The wind had blown harshly that day
With the dried leaves still going softly across the ground in a spiral like formation
Towards the lake where her body would go without a trace.
Her blood only staying but a while on the top of the pure water.
But her mind was now impure even within that pure, pure water
Her mind drifted off into the far corners of the pond
Searching for a way to escape from her natural body.
Her spirit longing for a way out
So her non-existent mind
Could wonder the pathways of other people’s lives.
So her spiritual being could mourn her own losses
And the loss of her own body.
Her blood drips from her spirit
As it drips from her actual body now at the bottom
Of the watery depths.
The water lapped against her rotten corpse
The water dripped through her rotting body
And the red blood would go with the current
Until the once clear lake became as red as the blood that ran through her heritage
And through her family.
She had once had running blood
But now it was drained out of her body by the strong current.
And she dreamt this all
In just one night.
But when she had woken up from this horrid dreamt
this young girl died this morn.
Once she would walk upon the ground
Silent steps
Taken by a lonely spirit whose past
Follows her faded figure down the worn path.
Life with its deadly words and images follow her closely,
Snapping at her heals and screaming her history
She dares not listen to the spirits that follow her closely
But spins into a dream.
She sees the mist around her and looks far into the distance.
Seeing nothing but the white air, she is afraid and feels lost
In the empty void of her dream where she waits.
Waiting for something that is hidden in the area around her.
As she stares into the distance a black cloud swirls slowly towards the girl.
She is but a small girl and is afraid of the figure moving slowly
Through the misty galaxy.
She looks closely at the image that is forming in front of her.
She sees this figure take shape and as the black cloud changes its color
She can smell a scent known long ago before she was gone from the known world.
The smell is of tobacco and worn clothes, never changed
The smell continues to fill her non -existent nasal passage.
As her mind swirls into a vivid interrogator or the mind
She is asked over and over again to see if she
The angel of darkness herself can remember that smell.
Them all being long lost; the smells all being gone for the moment
Locked into the back of her buried memory.
The memory, in the coffin of her life, is where she must go for many different things are going through her mind.
She sees the outside of the coffin, faded wood and brass handles.
She could still see the fingerprints of the men who had carried her to her grave.
She could still hear the cries of the innocent bystanders as they watched the coffin pass by.
She cried there in that moment
Crying tears of air as she remembers who the stranger standing in front of her is.
She can now see the mist clear away from his face.
His eyes are set deep into his skull and his skin is pale
While his hair is decaying on top of his mentally ill head.
She looks deep into the dark sockets and sees a light flicker.
The light is one that she remembers seeing in her father’s eyes whenever he would beat her mother,
The same flicker in her mother and brothers eyes when they cried after being abused for hours.
She goes back to those tortured memories of watching her mother being choked to death,
The evil stories of her brother being throne down the stairs by that insane man.
She looks into the face of her killer and one word escapes her lips.
Father.
Such a person who was not fit to spend his life in a house with the sane
While he was in no such condition to do so he did.
He tortured his family
Gave them no opportunity but to live a life full of fear and dread.
The children of the house would go to sleep every night wondering if they would wake up their mother being dead.
But what they would get was a suicide.
He would take overdoses and be rushed to an emergency room over and over again.
As a child he was given up for adoption.
Parents uncaring; he would grow up to be the same way.
Adopted a year later and then put into a mental institution
Bellevue, you may have heard of it.
A place where the mentally unstable go to live,
And as she shakes her non-existent head to rouse herself from these memories.
She then looks again at this now innocent looking young boy.
She now sees him not as an enemy, but more as a forbidden unconditional love.
For she cannot love or hate him.
She resents him for what he has done to her, but she cannot hate her own kin.
He seems so kind now that he is dead and as his body decays quickly before her eyes she realizes that he is lost to her, dead like wood burned to ashes.
She will live on in spirit forever but now that he is dead to her in her mind she can never revisit the thoughts of him without going into a depression.
As her ghostly spirit cries
she cannot see him for he is dead
But she can smell his rotting corps
She can still be his daughter
But she will never be his .
This is why when the wind blows around the residents of her family they can hear the soft whispers of her cry for the lost soul of her father.
The only father she could ever have is lost to her in a way that could never be fixed, for as the ashes blow down the worn path she looks after them with glossy eyes.
For even if she did try she could never put the ashes back together to make his figure for now she cannot even remember what he looks like.
The only thing she can remember about him was the glint of hate and death in his eyes, his everlasting need for death and nastiness.
His memory would always lurk at the back of her mind,
But never in the front
Or in the middle, for such a horrible phenomenon
Should always be remembered last.
She would not forget what evil made her life because it is hard not to remember that.
She would most likely revisit the screaming memories that still bite at her heels and would do nothing but cry and sink into a deep pool of depression.
Forever drowning in a sea of hurt she would hold her stomach and be sure to get rid of all the locked up feelings by yelling her hate of the man who had ruined her life and she would yell it to the world.
She would have done this often when alive
But now that she is dead she can do nothing but weep and the tears that perspire from the air that she is made up of will only replenish themselves into her being.
She spends eternity
Death
In sadness
Wishing that she could only be happy.
The only problem with this scenario is that she will be happy only when her father is dead.
Dead
For all he has done to her and her family.
She is deep in thought as she pictures her father’s bloody carcass
Strewn with knifes and ripped apart by savage dogs and thrown around by men in black.
His brains dumped in a near by trash bin
And within her thoughts she can see that as people pass by they do not stare in disgust because they cannot see him as the innocent dead but as a dead criminal
Who had sucked the life from his own family,
Leaving them as skeletons with only hearts to guide them through the darkened smoke that that poor girl drifts through in her thoughts.
That same girl dreams endlessly about the days when her father wasn’t ill and when he smiled and it was like the sun was shining,
He never doubted the fact that he was mentally ill.
He forced himself to think he was fine and never was pitied because he had done so many horrible things
And still had chosen not to be responsible for them.
He would die a most horrible way and never come back to the living world,
Never again would he pass back through the spiritual realm.
He would stay in the scorching, ash filled hell
Screaming every sin he had created, his skin burning to a crisp, and he would not listen to the voices because he thought he was alright,
But he was not,
He was a sick as a rabid dog,
As deadly as a snake’s venom.
And as sly as a cheetah slinking through the tall grass of the African Plains.
Unseen by its prey it lie’s in the grass
Hidden…until the attack.
When the animal leaps forward only then can its prey remove itself from the picture.
But will the prey move or will it fight for its dear life.
No animal of prey would ever stay placed during an attack.
We will never know if either prey or predator escapes the scene.
But we do know that the young spirit that still walks down the worn path will never forget her past or go to far into her future, but only remember the one who made her life
Her father
The predator
The prey
Her killer.
But not just the killer of her natural body,
But of her spirit and spiritual being.
That is why in her sleep she walks
Her spiritual being is unseen as it passes
Through the darkened hallways of her mind.
Her mother can feel her presence
And goes forth into her daughter’s room.
The perspiration running down her face
Tells the world that she knows
What is behind the closed doors
Of her daughters room.
As she pushes her now damp hand
Against the wood grain of the door
She can hear the deadly screams but only she can hear them.
She and only she
Can hear the calls of her daughter from the other side of moving wall.
As she slides her arm forward the hinges on the door creek and the door opens ever so slowly,
Almost as if it were to take an eternity to open.
But it only would seem that way
And only for a minute or two
For when the door finally would open she would only see her daughter standing up and out of bed,
Walking in circles endlessly.
She would tell her daughter to go to sleep, but then she would notice that her daughters eyes are closed, not yet open enough to be awake.
She would then guide her sleeping child to the safety of her bed and then leave the room as quietly as she left.
But what she saw was only her imagination,
Although she thought she brought her daughter back to her bed
She had brought the spirit of her daughter back instead
While the body of her daughter dangled from the ceiling.
Neck in a tangle of ropes
Blood spilling out of every crevice made by a knife in her carcass.
She had been hanged by the killer
The prey
The ill
The untamed
Her father.
Her eyes stayed shut for now she dreamed of better days.
Even though she is dead she would still dream
For her dreams are never ending
And her imagination never limited
But her life had been shortened
At the age of 13.
Her blood being the same color
Of her name.
Her body being curved instead of strait.
Her wrists being cut instead of mended.
She had done this to herself
She had not meant to do this much damage
For when her brother awakened next morn he would find her body
And scream.
His scream would shatter the ears
Of all who were in a square mile of the damned house.
The strange noise that he made was one of shock
But more like a horrified shriek.
He had seen a nightmare.
His sibling
His family
His sister
Hanging, like a rag doll from the light in the room.
Suddenly the ceiling of the room began to shake
And as the ceiling gave way to the weight of the young girl’s body
As she and the light clambered to the floor her mother and brother
Both standing at the door at this time
Could hear all of the bones in her body smash and break.
The strangest things happen in life.
Things you wouldn’t expect
And that is why when her mother and brother walked away that night
Her spirit became restless.
Her heart, which had been a place of bountiful love and replenishment
Was now filled with hate and instead of being warm and welcoming
Was now a place of cold
Hard steel.
It was like a metamorphosis has happened
With and ice-cold chill racing down her mangled body.
The wind had blown harshly that day
With the dried leaves still going softly across the ground in a spiral like formation
Towards the lake where her body would go without a trace.
Her blood only staying but a while on the top of the pure water.
But her mind was now impure even within that pure, pure water
Her mind drifted off into the far corners of the pond
Searching for a way to escape from her natural body.
Her spirit longing for a way out
So her non-existent mind
Could wonder the pathways of other people’s lives.
So her spiritual being could mourn her own losses
And the loss of her own body.
Her blood drips from her spirit
As it drips from her actual body now at the bottom
Of the watery depths.
The water lapped against her rotten corpse
The water dripped through her rotting body
And the red blood would go with the current
Until the once clear lake became as red as the blood that ran through her heritage
And through her family.
She had once had running blood
But now it was drained out of her body by the strong current.
And she dreamt this all
In just one night.
But when she had woken up from this horrid dreamt
this young girl died this morn.