S U N D A Y. F E A T U R E #27

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: BoundMy body's free but my hands are tied,
There's no releasing these words inside
So much I would say if I found my voice
But in this prison I have no choice
It's not as if we never try our best
Somehow we always fail his test
My body's free but my hands are tied,
Too many times my mother has cried
A genius, hurt, who feels so alone
He says, but a monster is all I know
My words, they die, poison my soul
Past, present and future, he must control
My body's free but my hands are tied,
Every time I've smiled is a time I've lied
Condemned and damned, cut to the core
If only I could settle the score
But my words don't cut, I can't fight back
My mind is blank, my world is black
My body's free but my hands are tied
Would my words return if he just died?
Such thoughts swirl, dark and cold as mist
I want to give in but I must resist
My words and heart will be free one day
Until then, I hide and bow and pray
My body's free but my hands are tied
His time will come, mine I'll have to bide

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: the beholder's fearsi tell you, "love me.  say i'm beautiful.  find something irresistible in my eyes."
you're lost in your mind and your name is slipping away from mine and you say, "nothing is irresistible.
there's always a choice, an option. a way to escape. to run away. something."
and i push you, i say, "but, right, it's an option. you don't need to resist. be tempted. for me."
"no" you say.  "please" i say, "aren't i beautiful to you anymore?"
and that's when you looked in my eyes without seeing who i am and you told me,
"if beauty is in the eye of the beholder, what happens when the beholder is too scared to look?" the fear response.i am the sort of person who is scared to death so often, you might as well have a grave dug and ready at all times. once, someone asked me why i was so scared.
i didn't know what to tell him and i think that might have scared me more than anything. i hate not knowing. hate being lost in the possibilities. hate knowing there is something to know but not knowing it. but he took up my hands anyway.
it's alright, he told me, "it's alright. it's okay. hush, don't cry. you are beautiful. hush. hush, dear."
but i was still bawling like i was at the funeral that grave was dug for, dressed all in black with smearing mascara and a desperate need for rainfall or loving hands to wipe away the pain. because funerals shouldn't be allowed on sunny days.
he said, "fear is okay. not knowing is okay. you are okay. you are more than okay. you are gorgeous, beautiful, inside, outside. don't be scared, oh no, don't be scared, darling."
except he didn't say any of that, he just hugged me and made me feel th

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And then some shame-less self-promotion :