The ocean of my mind swirls-
these waters have been tested.
Sirens sharpen in the distance
as the hurricane names me next.
The wind of panic wraps my neck like a noose-
my thought tides thrash with no shoreline in sight.
The hurricane grabs hold and drags me below sea level.
Swallowed into the belly of the beast.
I choke as the water fills my airways,
there is no loosening this grip.
So I drown in submission
to the perfect storm I call my mind.
The atmosphere has a sudden, unshakeable stillness-
Unaware of what has been forecasted.
Children push on swings and frolic through fields.
The calm before the storm.
To be a woman,
you have to mask your flaws.
A little girl, upset at the world-
"you're fine," her mother says.
That girl, now eleven,
is picked on by her peers.
"You're fine," her mother says.
Friends come and go.
Some may say like the seasons turn,
but that metaphor's not strong enough for me.
Friendships are like children's toys.
Friends come and go.
A child gets a new toy; gives it a name.
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