Growing too quick

Growing too quick

There are times we all make mistakes for better or for worse. Every mistake we make is meant to help us grow as human beings. But sometimes, flourishing too quick can be a problem. I’ve noticed kids of about ages five to ten hold a little cellular device as if it’s there life. No. I can’t even divulge how much of an insult that it is to mother nature to no longer have children running around enjoying the weather.

I realize that I grew too quick, too fast, and maybe surpassed some of the more exciting things. What I mean to say is I always outside playing with the boys in games like Truth or Dare, football, rugby, Frisbee, and even poker. We played Nintendo sixty four only when we got bored with the sun blazing down on us like a magnifying glass. There was a pool we use to dive into to cool off during the summer, and air conditioning when the sun was too hot. Yes. In the Northern States, We do get some pretty hot weather that can exhaust us.

Hard times can mature a child quickly as well. I was one such child growing too fast for my liking. So with that in mind I have a few poems about my growth to share.

Dollhouse Bodies

I stared into the barrel of a silver eyed pistol,

Fear not understood,

Fear not developed,

You threatened the breath I breathe,

For a dollhouse plaything to rummage within,

As if it was to be discarded into waste,

Like a piece of toilet paper,

I remember feeling the stone cold touch,

As you tried to caress what wasn’t finished,

Did it make you feel like a viper as it struck violently?

Did it make you feel like a crow as it ate leftover dinner?

 

I stared into the barrel of a silver eyed pistol,

Barren with my soul,

Was this what the cost of living was?

To be used, abused, discarded,

Over, and over,

Like a VCR tape as it loses it’s worth,

I remember your words,

Whispering in the dark of the room,

As you tried to reassure me ,

This is what children did,

Did it make you feel like a fox as it ran out of the barn with a hanging chicken between it’s teeth?

Did it make you feel like a little hare as it dug a hole deeper all the way to Asia?

 

I saw my life torn through your body,

The change was ever smaller,

Lines of faint pink,

When you were done,

The blood that should have fallen,

Was empty,

Did you feel satisfied like a wolf after a hunt?

Did you feel sick like me?

 

I saw you disappear faster than a blink,

I didn’t know your name,

Just the sleazy way you touched me,

I feared to touch anyone,

Would they ravage me,

Leaving me bare like you did?

 

Would they hold my life before my eyes,

Threatening to poison me with their empty words,

Threatening me with their body,

Are we all just dollhouse bodies to be ripped apart?

 

Sorrow like a dove

 

Sorrow is falling wings of shattering doves,

Cries from the lions as they battle for territory,

It crackles with each step a broken shoe makes on pavement,

Silence, awaiting attacks like a cat as it eyes the dove,

It refuses to disappear unlike ice during the midst of spring.

 

A cry from a song bird as it’s wings get eclipsed by a red hawk,

Disaster is abound as the feeling washes the soul like soap cleanses the body,

Knives are quick, sharp, fast, but sorrow is slow,

It seeps under skin, paralyzing oneself into a box,

The flight of lions has no desire to prove what is right, or wrong,

Just like sorrow has no desire to prove a battle against happiness.

 

We are forever drowning in our own problems,

Enlisting in likes, texts, and pictures to illuminate how happy we are,

Sorrow is the desire to be like a queen when you are not,

It is the rage silently within,

That feels like embers that dove out of a campfire,

We can hide it, shove it away, make it a fluke within everything we know,

We can turn it like a wheel of fortune, spin it like a web, and pretend that the Mary Jane of happiness fixes everything,

Sorrow is not fixable,

It is falling wings of shattering doves,

As we lose who we are in a mass of need to be like everyone else.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/flourish/