Kittykatruff

I dreamed
I was a pencil,
Held in someone's hand,
gliding across a page,
giving everything I am
to let their words be recorded,
destroying myself in my work,
as my very core is scraped away,
existing only for the writer

I'm sitting in the living room,
stroking my dozing dog, then suddenly:
a flash of light in my peripheral vision,
so quick I might have imagined it.
Then I hear it:
Thunder crashes overhead, a canon shot
in the fading light,

I feel the aching rhythm of my heart,
in sync with all the whirlwinds in my head,
the storm of thoughts colliding, then again,
for no one ever told you life was easy—

Reach out your broken hands to grab the sun—

Where has the magic gone?
The magic that used to
fill me with butterflies
and tint my world rosy,
the fast-fading fairy dust
that made me feel
so special?

When I was little, I used to ask Santa Claus
every year

She cried tears of words,
every emotion etched forever
on the wrinkled piece of paper, yet
forever locked away
from the eyes of whatever stranger
happened on that page;
Pain hidden in metaphors
and Sorrows in similes,

Tomorrow, I hope
I make someone smile.
I want to bring joy them
for awhile.

This world is cruel; it
suffocates the kind
and unleashes terrors
upon innocent minds.

People are cruel; we
tear each other apart