Little hands of mine,
Shaky scribbles in Crayola blue
Handwritten letters to god,
Return to sender.
The sky is grey,
Despite the coloring books
Clouds form like ***** cotton,
The rain is not acidic enough…
I am still here.
In my sky colored room
Stucco walls look like ocean waves,
My lungs are tired, but I wish to scream -
Deaf tones upon muted ears,
Write another letter to god -
This time in barn red,
Maybe he likes this instead.
Return to sender.
Tears burn like pepper spray
When they are conjured from rage
And anger grits through, chipping teeth
As the extension cord to the Nintendo
Knows there will be no game playing.
Wrap it once, apologize,
Wrap it twice, demonize
Wrap it thrice, whisper goodbye
CHOKE
A cosmic joke,
The cord broke,
Gasping, ******* in the air
Disdained at my selfishness
It could have been better…
It would have been better.
Little hands of mine,
Can no longer find strength
To hold the canary yellow
The words fail, like all fallen angels
No longer return to sender.
Prayers are never answered.
