Dollhouses & War

The first attempt at proper poetry and the next and the next.
"Not a tea stain, but a rain stain,"
"Does my heart tangle like headphones in a pocket?"
"...mascara tears registers exhilaration under rapid music beats. "
"Love is the only blood we will bleed as / Together we fall into a rainstorm."


5. Small Frights



Frights are things made out of feathers and shivers

They creep up on our backs and in our ears

Making mountains out of molehills

And monsters out of darkness.


But there’s different species of frights, didn't you know?

Those that make our hearts stumble,

You know the ones, the horrors,

The jump scares,

The sudden face peering,

Sneering around the corner.

The ones that gets our brains into our throats.

And tears down logic like a wall. 


There’s those that are jolts and moans.

You know the ones,

The lost purse,

The misplaced keys,

The drunken mistake.

The ones that cause the pockets to be patted,

Again and again and again.

The hunched shoulders,

And the hand on exasperated forehead.


There are those that are internal.

You know the ones,

The brain spasms,

The inner doomsday clock,

The hangover that isn’t even a hangover.


But a battle in the brain with spears and guns

Waiting to beat life.

These are called adulthood,

The days where childhood is sadly gone,

Replaced by cluttered sinks and attics,

Pyramids of taxes, bills, and loans.

The stress of bringing childhood to another,



And war.


These small frights make us who we are,

And we don’t all have the same ones.

We harbour the small monsters on our shoulders,

Like a raincoat against a storm.


They are small frights,

Like electric shocks.

Keeping us safe from giant frights

Car crashes caused by sunlight instead of storms.

Protectors against being fearless

Where people don’t know how to live at all. 


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