Let me be me

Let me be me
 
Let me wear unmatched socks
Let me sign in the shower
And dance while I'm cooking
 
Let me be me
 
In all my odd behaviors
In all my rash moments
Call me eccentric
Call me odd
Call me anything but let me be me.
 
Let me paint. Let me write
Let me sing and let me dance
Let me make a fool of myself
Let me laugh at myself
 
Let me be me

The Morning

sea dawn landscape sky
Photo by Darius Krause on Pexels.com

THE MORNING
The alarm resounds in my head, and I grumble and moan.
It pulls me from my slumber with a start.
My blankets wrapped around me keeping me warm as the cold morning air hits me.

I pull the covers over my head.
It can’t be morning already.
I want to hide from everyone and everything.
Just lay and look up at the ceiling and dream.

I want to hide from the world and pull the blankets closer.
The cold morning air wakes me, but I retreat under the covers.
Never leave the warmth and safety of the bed
Just lay and look up at the ceiling and dream.

I lay alone with all my thoughts,
The quiet in the morning
No one expecting anything from me
In this quiet time, oh the thoughts that come

Alas I must rise, each day the same
Running a race that never ends

Let me pull the covers back over my head.
The race never ends, just to take some days alone with my kids.
No work, no stress, just me and my kids.

Heart as Black as Your Soul

Heart as Black as Your Soul
You strike first, but then I strike back!
Did you expect me to sit and take your crap?
Did you expect me to roll over and play dead?
FOR YOU???

You call foul and
Lick your wounds and cry.
A pathetic wail as if you were innocent.

Do you think the others care?
Did you expect me to do nothing?
To sit back and curl up in a ball,
And shrink into oblivion?
While you attack me?
Did you not think I would defend myself?

I lash back, and you play the victim
Did you want me to curl up in a ball, cry and hide?

I lashed back! You couldn't handle it.
Did you expect to hurt me?
Was that your goal?
I suppose that was your mission, to crush the things I love.

I might seem tough but I'm dying inside.
You have taken something I love and tarnished it with your words.
Your barrage of words, and actions that eat away at my soul

Warping my mind, decaying my soul,
making me question everyone and everything.
But I suppose that is what you wanted.


You strike first, but I strike back.
The claws came out, and you cried foul.
You cry and coil away when others.
See you like the snake.

Is it fun to be the bully?
Do you get a rush crushing others?

I might strike back, but then I fade
I hide away and cry.
You take what I love and crush it, till it is nothing
I suppose that was your goal when your heart is black as your soul.
lighted candle
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ELLO

https://ello.co/nancy_ann

I recently found a new platform for creators. I am just starting to post on it but so far the feedback has been good. I have had more views on this platform than WordPress. I will not be giving up my WordPress but I might try to update both of these sites at the same time. Has anyone had any experience with Ello? I am really excited about this. So many new writers and poets to explore and learn from.

Flight 532

skull illustration
Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

There were 5 survivors, John, Abigail, Michael, Beth, and Lily.  Flight 532 took off with 200 passengers and no issues. The flight crew went through their routine as they always do. Nothing could have prepared them for what was to follow.  

Without warning, the plane lost altitude and crashed somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean.  The scene was horrific as passengers struggled to unfasten their seatbelts and free themselves from the sinking ship. Those who freed themselves had to swim away from the wreckage as it sank, pulling them under the water. The seawater filled their lungs; the pressure builds as plasma from their blood got sucked into their lungs preventing them from breathing. They drowned not only from the seawater but from their own blood that has now filled their lungs.  

Bodies washed up on the shore, still moving and struggling, but only 5 stood and walked to the stand.  

Those five did their best to help the dead, and the injured to no avail. The smell of blood and death in the water attracted the local sea life. Sharks and others came to feed on the victims. Soon the water turned red as the sharks fed on the remains.     

Lily did her best to help. The blood and gore didn’t bother her as much as it affected the others. “Oh, the blood. The sweet smell,” she thought as she wrapped the bodies for burial and placed them in their swallow graves.   

The others thought Lily was in shock or suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, but she wasn’t. Death excited her.  

They found shelter for the first night, but that first night was when the winds came.  A strong wind rushed through the beach and swayed the trees, calling to Lily. She moaned in her sleep as she heard the wind. “Lily…. Lily… come to me, Lily.” The voice grew louder, but Lily kept sleeping. The voice grew so loud that she put her hands over her ears to block out the sound, but still, the voice came.  

As much as she tried to sleep that night, the night the winds came, she kept having nightmares. The same nightmare kept repeating all night.  

In her dream, Beth was sleeping when a figure appeared before her. The figure, a shadow of a man, appeared to smile as it stood over Beth.  Beth woke with a start and screamed as the figure sliced her throat.  He continued to cut into her as the spray of her blood spewed from her body.  When the figure left, Lily crept over to her body as the man left. She ran her fingers through her hair and moved her fingers in her blood as if it were natural to do so. 

 “Sleep well,” Lily said with a smile. 

Lily woke painting feeling this sickening feeling come over her. Then in an instant, screams filled the air as the others woke, “Beth, Beth!” The others screamed as they searched for her. Only a pile of blood lay where Beth once slept.  

Blood covered Lily’s hands. She looked at them and then ran to the water to wash them.  “How could this be? It was just a dream, I told myself. Why were my hands covered in blood? Where did Beth go?”  When Lily finished, she returned to the group and helped them look for Beth, but they never found her.  

After a while, they had given up hope on finding Beth.  Lily sat on the beach staring at the waves, trying to push away this feeling of guilt. I smiled and laughed as she died. “What’s wrong with me?”  

 The next night the demon killed John. Lily laughed and danced around the tree as his feet dangling in the air.  Every night the demon killed another person, and the excitement in Lily grew with each kill. The dreams excited her.  The demon strangled Abigail. That one didn’t excite Lily as much as the other ones had. She found she enjoyed watching the blood pour from his victims far better.    He even let me cut off Michael’s head. Oh, how exciting it was to slice through his neck as the blood splatter upon her face. “Why am I acting this way?  Something or someone unlocked this my want for blood and death.”  

On the fifth day, the beach was silent when Lily woke. She was alone. The only sounds she heard were the lapping of the waves, the beat of her heart echoing in her ears, and the voice.  Still, the voice called to her once again. 

“Who are you?” Lily called out. “Why are you giving me these dreams?”  

The winds stopped as the voice fell silent. Lily was the only one left. Was this demon coming for her now? What did it want with her?    

Lily walked into the woods hoping to find what was hunting her and kill it before it could kill her. She found a stick and took out her red pocketknife. She sat on a nearby stump and sharped it, thinking she needed something to defend herself if she ran into this figure, this demon. 

She walked for hours as the sun rays burnt her back; Lily knew it was late afternoon.  She kept walking, thinking to turn around soon to be back at the beach by night, but then she came to what an abandoned cabin.  It was a wooden cabin, and the stretch of rotting flesh filled the surrounding air. It turned Lily’s stomach as she turned away to vomit. The smell before had excited her, but this was far too poignant.  She was not expecting the smell to be that poignant. As a few long moments, she regained her passion, her excitement, and explored the cabin.  

  She grabbed the doorknob but pulled away as blood was covering it. The blood shocked her, but it did not phase her. She entered the cabin and let out a gasp as I saw the bodies of my fallen peers hanging in various positions. Abigail sat in the center of the room in a rusted steel chair with straps confining her to the chair.  He displayed weapons of torture through the workshop.  Two clamps held Michael’s head as his body lay on the floor.  Beth lay on a table with straps across her body and poor John.  He dismembered John’s body and placed each body part in a glass jar. My hands shook as I examined the jars. This is insane. Get out! Get out now! 

Winds came rushing in behind me as the door opened.  I turned to see a figure standing there watching me.  “Welcome home, Lily. Are you here to join me or just watch as you do in your dreams?” He asked. 

The shadow moved toward me. “That’s a good girl. I can tell how excited you are. We’ve been waiting for you.”  

I smirked for I knew he will not kill me and will help him. I’m home.  

“Now go home and dream more victims up for me,” he commanded.  

The next morning, I woke back in my bed at home. “Was this a dream?” I wondered. 

I walked into my living room and turned on the news. 

The reporter spoke, “Yes that is correct 199 passengers on flight 532 confirmed dead.  

I gasped as I felt a cool breeze rush through my apartment. “Lily….” The voice was back. I turned around as the shadow figure was in my doorway.  

The Face I Wear

The face I wear is never sad.
It's never angry and never mad.

The face I wear never cries.
It's never bitter but it always lies.

The face I wear covers my pain.
The face I wear covers my fear.
The face I wear hides who I am.
It hides my sorrows and hides my pain.

The face I would like to see.
But the face I wear is always a lie.

The face I wear is what you see.
But that face
is not really me

Changes

I see the changes in you. 
It saddens me but you won’t know or care.
Do you feel lost? Do you want to scream? 
Do you see and feel the changes in yourself?

I know we don’t talk anymore;  
I know you don’t want me around. 
But then I see the changes in you and they worry me.

I pray for you, but you will never know.  
I pray that you see the light again.
I pray that you surround yourself with goodness.

Biting and Gnawing

Photo by Daniel Jensen on Unsplash

Why can’t you be happy?

Why do you delight in others’ misery?

You can’t be happy for your friends?

You can’t stand when they are happy?

The pain of regret will come to bite you.

You will lose out and others will move on.

The cut will deepen as the time passes.

It will gnaw away at you until there is nothing left.

Your flesh will rot away as maggots eat you alive. 

It will fester and scab over, leaving you as horrid as you are now.

Opening again at each new sting.

The sting of pain and regret will eat at you,

gnawing away the new skin and devouring you whole.

The life of one with no happiness and the life of one who is not happy for others.

Is an empty, useless, decrepit life.

Artwork

I started drawing for a children’s book for my daughter Zelda.   Someone suggested I put them on Deviant art. Please follow me if you have Deviant art and check out the illustrations! The book is already written, but the illustrations are taking longer.  Though I never really drew this way before.

 

Deviant Art

 

ambulance 4atom and foxy

zelda and foxy

42 Years Old

Today is my birthday. I am 42 years old. 42 is an odd age for me. My mother died when she was 42. So remember tomorrow is not a guarantee. Live life as if it’s your last day. God said the greatest commandment is love. Don’t forget that!