Make it StopThe anxiety is rising
the voices are growing
my music turns up
why do you drink?
why do you yell?
my stomach is in knots
i pray for the tears to stop
my body is shivering
I wish I could make them stop
but I know in my heart
that I can’t
It will always be this way,
won’t it, mommy?
You will always drink,
won’t you, daddy?
I promise I’ll be good
just please stop
all of the pressure
all of the troubles
they won’t stop
my music isn’t helping
fists hit my gut
in every passing minute
I can’t stop shaking
but it will be over soon
and it will be okay
until next time.
My SkinMy skin has become an uncomfortable place
as if i'm suddenly become a big disgrace.
in reality, i have done nothing wrong
doing my best to keep staying strong.
but something doesn’t feel right anymore
my heart and my brain are in a terrible war.
I really just don’t know why I’m so sad
I have a good life and should be glad.
but I can’t fight this emptiness inside
I’ve run out of places to hide.
they say, “you’ll be okay; you’ll be fine”
but why do my eyes no longer have shine?
I don’t talk of how I feel at all
because my words only hit a wall.
I guess my skin is getting sick of me
but I’ll keep trying to be cheery.
Eating me Againthe shadows are upon me lately
affecting my self worth greatly
feeling no escape from this hole
i feel it tearing apart my soul
there is no ease from the pain
dark claws grip my brain
no one gives me a glance
much less gives me a chance
all i feel is loneliness
i see no goodness
but that’s the price i pay
for telling others to stay away.
You Poor SoulPoor weary, restless, soul,
Why do you feel so alone?
Trying to find what makes you whole
But scared of the unknown
Poor angry, livid soul,
Why do you have no releases?
Burying yourself in a hole
Anger just increases
Poor cold, cynical soul,
Why don't you let others in?
You don't want to leave this hellhole,
Living a life of sin.
Poor young, beautiful soul.
How are you so damaged?
You keep forgetting your big goal
Don't let dreams be dampened
Don't Make My Mistakehis words were knives
dipped in ruby red
tearing away lives
stabbing until dead
he was no savior
as you thought he was
we only met his anger
only the bloody claws
he could be so cold
but how could we know
why his stories were untold
it was so long ago
we couldn’t have known
that he had a dark side
his words hurt to the bone
he couldn’t get past his pride
I finally decided to run
freed myself and grew
I wish you would, hun
before he hurts you too
Ira's StuffiesOnce upon a time, there was a toy box. It looked like a regular toy box; perfect for any child that wanted to store their playmates. This special toy box belonged to a very special child named Ira. The mother of this wonderful child loved to create things; sew, knit and crochet. When Ira was four, she had come down with a terrible sickness of the blood that took her hair and made her weak. So, once a week, Ira’s mother hand-crafted special stuffed animals for her daughter. They decided to call them Stuffies. Each Stuffie had it’s own individual color and style, along with a story. Before Ira went to bed each night, she’d kiss each Stuffie on the head and put them in their special toy box. The toy box with the words “My Stuffies” etched across the top.
In this toy box, the Stuffies began to stir. Real stuffed animals didn’t do this; but something about the toy box gave these little beings life. Ira’s mother always shook her head and laughed when
One ChanceYou should never see me dance
You'd be terrified if you gave me a glance
while I may have a cute face
I do not have any grace
I can't sing a note
with my voice that sounds like a goat
I guess I'm not a perfect girl
but I will sure leave your mind in a whirl
I may not be optimistic
or even a little bit artistic
Although I'm trying to mend
it's still hard for me to make a friend
I may look mean at first glance
but I'm great if you give me a chance.