Broken China doll

The walls are closing in on me
I cant stay here
It's like drowning on dry land

Your memory is everywhere
And yet nowhere

I'd give anything to turn back time
Erase that first kiss
Escape from your touch

My love for you was my own undoing
I trusted a lie
Believed the empty words
Never removed the road colored glasses
To truly see

This hole within my chest screams
My soul begs to runaway
Run away from your memory
But I can not escape the ghost
The ghost of what I believed was you

The pain remains
The memory of lies ,empty words
Broken promises like old China
Woven into what once was my heart

I can not escape the ghost of you
This empty cavity that once was the beauty of me
The beauty you never bothered to see

Unchosen

Who chooses?
Is it a God, Gods, society, humanity?
Who decides?
Which woman is cherished and which is used, which human is loved and which is dejected .
Where is the magic mirror that explains beauty?
Where is the secret code that defines the formula for a woman who should be loved ?
Why?
Why do we cast people aside? Use them, ignore them, play them , deny them then turn to another and give them everything without the pain.
How can one life be do much better than another.
Why fight,  why try, when love without pain is unattainable?
Why watch the beauty of love being given so purely when the watcher will never feel it first hand?
How much time?
How many years until the outcast surrenders?
How many broken hearts until there is none left to give?
What must it feel like to die as Poe,  penniless , loveless, and out cast?
Who decides which life is priceless?
Why aren't they all?
Why do some girls never have to be picked last while others never are picked at all?
Who decides where love falls?

Escape within Dream

Looking down on the mountain peaks
The vastness suddenly feels so small.
Valleys of emerald green
spread across foreign country sides
Peppered with flowers unencumbered by vases.
Skimming across the white peaks of the ocean ,
Silver scales flash beneath the cobalt glass.
But this is not a flight of food ,
It is a flight of freedom.
Exploring countries never before seen
Gliding upon the wind
Weightless, free.
The stars glisten around me
Winking  the shared silent nod
Of the chosen watchers
The few who can feel the stillness of air
High above the land .
As the sun rises wings grow tired.
Swaying in the tops of the tree
Her leaves a blanket of safety, her her age a silent protection from the dangers below.
Eyes open to the midmorning light.
The visions of flight still fresh in mind.
Bare feet touch the floor
Pain returns once more.
Oh but to live the dream, to skim across the ocean never touching the shore.
To climb the tops of mountains never lacking for air.
To feel the world beneath wings.
But it is morning and I am human once more.

Mirror

When I'm old and grey
What will the lines on my face say?

Will they smile from years of laughter?
Or will they turn down from years of tears?

Life goes so fleeting. Yet day to day seems long.

Always waiting for a miracle
Hoping true love will come along.

Once you think you may have it.
Only to watch it hold someone else more dear.

What will the mirror tell of me
When my final breath draws near?

Eyes have become dull from crying.
Lips always facing down.

What happened to the girl I once was
Before love I thought I found?

Will grandfather recognize me in valhalla?
Will the great Spirit turn me away
Because this world faded the light that brought me to this place?

Is it too late to write the lines now growing strong across my face?

How do I put the laugh lines into the frown lines place ?

What will the mirror say of me when breath makes its last escape ?

Porcelain

A thousand burning knives seer the heart
They cut so deeply the very fabric of soul is torn apart.

Use the superficial, my dear, to hide away emotion.

Lipstick to cover pain.

Mascara to blot the tears.

The world cares not for what is inside.
Hide the broken pieces away.

To be worthy of love one must be unbroken . Hide the truth from the light of day.

Smile Porcelain doll with the broken insides. No one cares how it hurts or how deeply you've cried.

Your hair must be brown,eyes of course brown too, your teeth must be white, your ass must sit in your jeanes just right, your boobs must poke out of your shirt but it can't be too tight.

Don't bother the world with the color of your soul .Words are too loud. The colors of them too bright. The canvas they paint is meaningless amongst the deaf.

All the world wishes to see is another porcelain doll.