A Redhead's Lament

Goodbye, my fair red blood head,

From colour deposited from dye that bled,

I say farewell, but not for long,

For summer shall come with anewed song.

Goodbye, my quirk, my charm, my spice,

My twinkle that shone from an ocean eye,

My will and spark that helped to entice,

And the smart mouth that never stood by.

Goodbye, my red hues, the thing that held so much,

To you it was hair, to me it was a beauty with colour and tone,

This is a proof to show, that as I thought, as such,

That freedom is a luxury, I am not allowed own.

Note to readers-

I dyed my hair red, a beautiful cherry red with a different coloured fringe, and to be honest. I looked good with it. I suited it. It was eye catching and glossy and beautiful. I had always wanted to dye my hair red. Unfortunately my school kicked up a fuss about it and threatened to expell me if it wasn't out by this weekend. Which is totally unfair because it says nothing in the school rules about hair colour. And about 5 other girls have hair as red as mine and it was dyed too. So I decided to write this poem to remember my hair. Sweet dreams, my hair, my glossy ocean swept mane.

I want every part of you,
The arrogant, the dark,
The witty and shining sun too.
Without all of them you're alone.
Stark.

I want your skin on mine.
The soft honeyed skin,
With scars like map upon line,
And a grin with mine.
Atwin.

I want those blue sea deep eyes,
Meeting mine with a glint.
Glint that causes my heart's demise,
Fingers on my skin that leave.
Pawprint.

I want that passion and fire,
All for my lusting own,
I want that unquenchable desire,
Not for you to leave me all
Alone.

I want this to be actual, real,
For your eyes to have passion,
So my ripped up heart can heal.
But I guess True love never was in
Fashion.

Life's not easy when you manage Hell.

Horses, clip clop, upon bloodied floor,
Impatient at hell's imblazened door,
With a cold white hand, Fallen grasps the gate,
Irritated, that once again, his Hell Horses were late.

Once again he paced in front of their team,
Asking, yet again, what their lateness should mean
And one by one they told him and alibi,
So he cursed their names- 'Hell spawn, I know you lie!'

He sent them to their stables, and off they flew,
Then went to his palace, while threatening to sue,
The man who'd sold him him these cursed* steeds,
Who apparently was due inHell for his damned* deeds.

* Pronounce the 'e' to make the word have to syllables.

Fallen sat in his throne, while his Queen made tea,
The she told him bad news- she'd lost the key.
'Again?' He cried, 'The key to the gates?' then he began to sob,
His Queen then nodded. He would surely lose his job.

His Queen then sat down, and called in his friend,
Another bad angel, but one which you could depend,
Or so Fallen thought- his wife was filing for divorce.
'Why?' he asked, then Fallen saw. The friend, of course.

Fallen began to cry, then smelt something funny.
Not burning flesh, or sin, nor black handed money.
It was something almost intangible, impossible to see.
Then he realized. It was the sympathy and tea.

The tea had caught fire and the palace was alight.
The golden castle an inferno, which gave the poor Fallen a fright.
He was so close to a breakdown- he gave a small yelp.
His clothes were on fire and he needed professional help.

Six months later, Fallen was waiting outside,
a psychiatrists room, the only one who'd replied.
To his dreary call, for someone to talk over his fears,
Of tea, horses, keys and the wife of all those years.

The psychiatrist sat him down and offered some tea.
Fallen replied 'no, thank you', and began to plea,
He wanted his job back, he wanted to replace his keys,
He wanted to get an education, for his mam would be pleased.

He had so many hopes, and did not realize till too late,
That this psychiatrist was a cursed card of fate.
This man used to be a salesman, who sold horses of hell,
Then, after too many customer complaints, decided to rebel.

The Fallen threatened to sue, threatened certain death,
But had to, now being mortal, draw in one shaky breath,
That was time enough for the salesman now free,
To take out a cup with saucer, and offer 'Tea?'

In my green mind's eye
theres mountains of white
no sorrow, no deception, no lie,
No tongue with poison spite.
Theres meadows of flowers,
Delicate petals of purest blue ,
That grow and die among the hours,
Then within seconds grow and renew.
Tropical rivers, darting fish below,
Among grasses as tall as I,
Green that dances and twirls just so,
So that each movement gives a whisper and sigh.
Everything can happen in my head,
I can see everything and dream about my life,
I can see my life, I can see what I said,
I can see the end of the world- such strife.

Then why is all I see you and me?
I close my eyes and see your funny smile,
I can hear your voice saying 'we can't agree'
And you telling me I'd better be worthwhile.
I can see your eyes blue as sin and sorrow,
Hair like gold, shines like the sleeping sun,
I have to tell myself thats theres always tomorrow,
Another day to finish what was begun.

I know why all I see is you.
I just can't admit it yet.
But whenever the thought touches my lips.
I bite my tongue.
To stop myself from telling you.













And to stop myself from smiling.

When I say 'I hate you' I really mean I love you. But I just can't admit it.

Because I barely know you and I'm scared that I'll be broken by your reply.

What God is to other people, music is to me.

Some people pray. I turn up the radio.

Hate is Easy. Love takes courage.

I must have a lot of courage that I'm not going to be broken this time.