A little Challenge



Hey Friends,

Bet you thought I would be gone for another month or longer. Surprise! I’m here. I have been doing all kinds of crazy stuff so far this month. I haven’t been writing like I wanted to. I have been trying to learn calligraphy, but I am behind on the lessons…oops. But I have been watching a ton of horror movies!

But that is not what this is about today. Today I bring to you a new challenge I have given myself. You see, there is this thing called inktober. Artist use it to draw something everyday and they have prompts to do this as well.


Borrowed image from this site where the rules are! https://inktober.com/rules/

I got to thinking, you know if I put my pen to paper and make a picture out of words…can’t that apply to inktober too? So I decided to write a poem every day using the inktober prompts! I won’t bore you with posting these every day here. I thought maybe I would share once a week. I also got a bit of a late start, so I only have 4 ready at the moment.

Should you wish to get a sneak peak at the poetry I am writing for this you can check it out on my DeviantArt Page HERE. But here are the first 4 I have so far.

  1. Poisonous:

    Your lips are pretty
    And so are your words
    No one noticed
    How toxic you were
    Your words are lies
    Wrapped in shiny paper
    And giant beautiful bows
    Poetic to the surface
    While damaging the soul
    And this is where I am
    Lost in pretty thoughts
    Traveling the labyrinth
    Of all your handsome tales
    The poison is deep in my bones
    Tearing apart who I once was
    Making me your idea of perfect
    It was the first hello
    That was poisonous
    I had a feeling
    But I ignored it

  2. Tranquil:

    They sleep when the world is quiet
    It’s the best time to befriend the stars
    Watch them glitter in the distance
    Listen to the earth speak
    At night is the only time

    They say it’s peaceful at night
    It’s the best time to reflect
    But if you listen closely you hear
    The earth is not talking
    It’s screaming

    They sleep when the world is quiet
    It’s the best time to befriend the stars
    Watch them burn in anger
    Listen to the screaming earth
    At night earth and the stars plot their revenge

  3. Roasted:

    Round and round it goes
    Fire licking the flesh
    Popping of flames fill the silence
    The heat spreads its arms

    Some stand warm in the arms
    Others stand back in the cold
    Watching in frozen horror
    As the girl is roasted for her sins

  4. Spell:

    Bubble bubble toil and trouble
    Now I think I’m seeing double
    Was that wine or was it more
    I can’t seem to touch the floor

    I’m floating away above the mist
    The string is tight around my wrist
    Clouds are laughing but it’s not amusing
    My head is spinning it’s all confusing

    Finding it difficult to open my eyes
    Maybe alone at a party wasn’t wise
    It was fun for a second I must say
    But they knew I could never stay

    They gave me jokes and funny lines
    We talked about our favorite wines
    I tried the one that was blood red
    Thick and warm and full of dread

    It coated my throat like sweet honey
    But the flavor wasn’t worth the money
    I should have known from the smell alone
    My cover would soon be blown

    Now my dress is torn and tattered
    I’m sure my wrist bone shattered
    I had to make them pay and suffer
    They may be vampires, a witch is tougher

Let me know what you think. Do you have a favorite? Would you join me in this fun little challenge? You can catch up!

Until next time!


Fighting My Demons


There are still days in my adult life that I fall back into the habits of my younger self.  I have shared it once before, the hardships in the past and all the things I went through.  I have gone through depression and suicidal thoughts.  I have gone through moments where life just didn’t seem worth living anymore.

Yesterday some how ended up being one of those days.  I am just tired of so many things in life.  The fight to be accepted for my weirdness.  The struggle to find a special someone to enjoy my awkwardness.  The battle to be okay with myself.  The constant conflict about my work.  Wondering if I am good enough.  Wondering if I am only wasting my time.  Wondering if I should be doing more.

I feel like some where deep inside of myself I have so much to offer, but no one seems to want to see it or take it.  There are days that I just feel invisible and it’s hard to deal with.  I am, after all, a Leo.  Leo’s love the spotlight and we love attention.  I am not in constant need of attention, but I could use a little more.

It’s days like yesterday that I really wish I had a job, but then I realize how much a job would take away from the work that I really want to do.

I want to be a writer.  I want to own my own company.  I want to help others.  I want to be free to go where ever, when ever.  I want to be healthy and athletic.  I want to be surrounded by people that like me and won’t turn on me the moment I do something they don’t agree with.

You must forgive me for this rant, but sometimes it’s the only way to get past these dark moments.  And writing poetry helps too.  It seems to be the only time that I am inspired to write poetry.  Sometimes what you feel can not be told in words, it has to be sung in a poem.

So, today I will share with you a poem that I wrote to try and help me out of this dark place.  I hope you like it, and if you don’t it’s okay.  It helped me deal with the demon that goes by the name of depression.

The Demon Within

It’s not something that just goes away

It’s a battle that I fight every day

The demon swims through every lesion

Waiting for my fight to weaken

It waits for the moment when the lights go out

And grows stronger with every tear filled shout

There is nothing that can be done

As it shifts to cover the light of the sun

Surrounded in darkness, with nothing to hold

I will believe every single lie I am told

“You are stupid and fat.”

“You are nuttier than a bat.”

“You are not worth the air you steal.”

“Your face should be hidden under lock and seal.”

Before I know it, the faces are my own

The lies become something I’ve always known

The lies become truth in my mind

To anything else, I am blind

The demon takes over with aggression

I am empty, just his possession

Nothing more than a doll on strings

Forced to walk with gears and springs

This is no life for a girl like me

I should be happy, I should be free

I have fallen down the rabbit hole

With no Hatter to save my soul

One day the world will understand that these dark moments are not something to “Just get over.”  One day the world will understand the strength it takes to come out on top of these moments.

I hope that everyone has a beautiful day today.  Please find something that makes you smile. 🙂

Not Just an Escape


I always hear other writers asking each other “Why did you start writing?”  There are always so many different answers and they are all fantastic reasons, unless you are only writing to make money.  I was inspired to share my own story.

I have always been a story teller.  My mom has a video of me telling my grandma about a monster that slapped me.  To get my point across I slapped myself to show my grandma how hard that bad monster hit me.  I was a very adorable kid.  Even after that I remember singing stories.  I can’t sing to save my life, but I sure did sing a lot when I was a kid.  It’s just what I have always done, I tell stories.

When I was in 3rd grade I had moved to a new school and I wasn’t very popular.  I was picked on by everyone in my class. I was like the class punching bag.  I was never physically hit, but words to hurt people! Words hurt! I started getting a little depressed.  When I was 12 my dad broke his neck and became disabled.  With that we lost our home and vehicles and…everything.  We had to live with my aunt for a little bit until we found a new place to live.

This was actually a bit of a blessing.  I was on the verge of committing suicide.  I had so many ways I was going to kill myself and none of them were just for attention.  I felt like I was the biggest waste of space and I believed all the lies people told me.  I even found out that my own “friends” were making fun of me.  It was a very dark time in my life.

By 8th grade I was in a new school with new people and was like one of those little puppy dogs that shiver all the time.  I was waiting for the torment to start all over again.  It wasn’t so bad really, but my depression didn’t get any better.  In 9th grade I made more friends, a few were from 8th grade but they didn’t stick around very long.  This is about the time I really started writing poetry.

I was still depressed but I didn’t want to die anymore.  Actually, I wanted to either fade away or make everyone else feel the pain I had felt.  My parents were still having money problems and I had a really hard time trusting people.  So I wrote poetry about everything an angry and depressed girl could write about.  I wrote about suicide, killing others (yeah…), and of course my knight and shinning armor that would come save me from the horrible world.

This was my escape.  Poetry might have saved my life.

The summer before my senior year of high school my family lost our home again.  This time my aunt was not around to take us in.  She had died of cancer a few years before.  We ended up living in a tent at the lake for a few months.  And before you think how horrible that could have been, don’t. It really wasn’t that bad.  It was summer and I could go swimming in the lake when ever I wanted.

We finally found a home and my senior year had started. I was still angry and depressed.  I had been through a lot of crap for an 18 year old.  Also, while all my friends were hanging out with their boyfriends I was sitting at home living the single life.

It wasn’t until college that I really started writing seriously.  I had written short stories but I didn’t realize the potential until college.  Still being single I realized that while I may not be able to find my perfect boyfriend I could create him.  Even though my life wasn’t perfect, I could create a perfect life.  I have always lived in books and I knew the power the words held over me.  I knew how they pulled me in and wrapped me in a warm blanket of peace.  It was college that I realized I could knit that warm blanket of peace myself.  I could write my own perfect world with my own perfect love life.

Reading was an escape.  Poetry healed my wounds.  Short stories gave me life again.  I am happiest when I am in my own world, created by the words that bled from my pen.  My soul leaked onto the pages and created something I could call my own and only I could change the outcome.  Of course, that was before I allowed the characters to develop their own voices.  Now, they tell me what to write but they are my best friends and I am happy living among them.

I write because I don’t feel like I belong in this world.  I write because my words are my saving light in the darkness of depression.  I write because it is who I am.