The Beautiful Monarch



All the bugs laughed
Called her names
Slug bait and worse
The caterpillar crawled
Paid them no mind
But it hurt just the same
So she built a cocoon
Crawled inside to cry
The tears of the lonely
Caused by the arrogant
The condescending insects
That held themselves superior
Fueling her sorrowed droplets
Which turned into acid
And dissolved the body
She had grown to hate
And dissolved the mind
Of the girl she feared
Until the day came
She said fuck em all
I am beautiful
Not just inside
But everywhere
Then the beautiful butterfly
Broke out of her cocoon
Held her head high
And soared above the crowds
Without looking down
As the insects all looked up
In great admiration
Wishing they were as fantastic as
The Beautiful Monarch

Drying Paint

dry paint

A life in color she cloned the sky
Shared on the canvass of her soul
Tumultuous sessions
Lasting impressions
Razor imprints streak out of control

Put down the pallet toss the brush
No need to assign any more paints
Colors ran from the dream
No more sparkle or gleam
A hospital bed locked with mental restraints

Bleeding out through her paintings
Images screaming words yet unspoken
Self loathing contempt
A near fatal attempt
A life was shattered but not fully broken

This is not how the world works
No brush in hand
Not in command
Soar out on your own
You’re not out on loan
Or alone
You belong to the sky
Let your colors fly
don’t let your paint dry
For some guy

Pick it back up
Paintbrush in hand
Your world to command
Take your stand
Paint your own picture
Colorful and true
Its all about you
Your color, your glory
Drying paint tells the story
The soul tattoo
Of a woman so true
Paint not yet dry
She’s back to
Cloning the sky
With strength found anew
She isn’t quite through
That painter is you