I'm always torn between

Who I want to be and who I am 

The distance between the two

Feels massive, insurmountable

Like I'll never be able to pass thru it

Make it to the other side and see 

What it's like to be who I'm meant to be

To surpass my expectations 

And actually reach my potential

I always feel so lost and insecure

Like an imposter in my own life

Knowing that I have so much more to give

But struggling to reach within 

To access all the deeper parts of my soul

And become the woman I should be

Always sitting, wondering if I have what it takes

To push thru to the next level

Really transcend my limits 

But then I straighten my spine, stand tall

And remember who I am, my strength,

My intelligence, my truth

I stop shrinking, stop doubting myself

Shove down those insecurities

And realize that the distance between

Who I am and who I'm meant to be

Is nothing but a figment of my imagination

I'm who I'm meant to be, now. 

Above umbrella haloed brains dressed in teenage clothes,

I spot a hill of green dotted with bright colored houses, and trees.

The hill wears a cloak of grey clouds

That birds dance upon.

The sloshing of cars rushing through puddles fills the air,

And the cursing of students that I pass by

Slips into each moment of silence with ease.

It is another rainy day in San Francisco;

The city of fog.

Whirling, swirling, swiftly

       Madness stranger creeps in

       planting subliminal messages

       of insanity into my mind

       the voices, the voices

       mindless masked intruder

       digging graves of no meaning

       finger hooked into my wall

       in insane dots of fractured thought.

Whirling, swirling, swiftly

       Stranger absorbs me, takes me away

       caterwauling rhymes of madness

       ebony rocks striking my face

       unpredictable fire - sweet and sour

       elevator erupting up but never stopping

       dressing me with mad sparkled wreaths

       blinks of delusion smite my eyes

       spinning, spinning out of control.

Whirling, swirling, swiftly

       nonsense words scar my festering soul

       moonlight falls out of loveless sky

       collapsing into sunken eyes of mine.

       dried up barren well, I lick my lips

       feeling nothing, locked in darkness

       heartbeat freezes, I don’t breathe

       craziness prevails as I sigh softly

       we are not so different after all.

Whirling, Swirling, Swiftly

       Insanity is earth, twisted and fractured

       marigolds marching, invading, closing ranks

       madness is genius, kicking and screaming

       bones jabbed with pain, without release

       cemented feeling encasing my blackness

       obsessed with death, don’t know where I am.

       blooms of craziness hurled by stranger

       infiltration of fogginess, flowing madness

       mind wanderer lost in struggle evermore

       out, out damned spot, blood on my hands.

You don't know the pain you cause when you make your jokes

Calling him, her, them fat

Calling them ugly, never good enough, worthless

They soak up those words like water to a sponge

They soak it in until they can take it no more and just explode

So you think it's okay to beat them down until they can no longer get up

Laying there crippled

Laughing so hard all they can see is their flaws and imperfections

Their flaws no longer beautiful, but ugly, horrible curses

So you think it's okay to push us against the wall

Holding us there defenseless

Feeling there's no one who cares

Feeling like we're better off dead because that's what everyone wants

Stabbing us in the back, tearing up our hearts, walking over us like we're doormats

It's not your obligation to do so

It's not your obligation to make us feel worthless, and hated

It's not your obligation to make us hate our bodies, when we are truly beautiful

Every inch

So you think it's okay to make me feel insecure

You think it's okay to make me feel pointless and friendless

So you think it's okay to make me feel ugly, and not worth a care

You make me feel like a bitch

Since when was it a bad thing to feel good about yourself

Since when was it bad to feel positive, secure, and happy

Since when has it been bad to feel beautiful, and confident in oneself

Well you make me feel like I don't deserve any of that

You make me feel like I don't deserve to be happy or confident in myself

So you think it's funny to see me cry

Does it give you pleasure to cause me so much agony

Does it make you smile when other people help you beat me down

Does it make you feel alive seeing me want to die

Does it calm you to see me so frustrated in life.

Darling there are sides to you

That no one has ever dared

To search for.

But don't let them near you.

When they see your golden soul,

You will never be able

To keep them away.

Pssstttt...

Prosers. It's back!!!

It went on hiatus and now it's back and better than ever. It's only Prose Challenge of the Week #55.

This week we will be doubling the prize fund and the length of time you have to win it. Yes, that's right, the Challenge of the Week is going to be worth $200 and will run for two weeks.

After these two weeks, we will return with a weekly prompt and a prize fund of $100.

So, let's take a look at how you can get your hands on the prize...

Challenge of the Week #55: Write a story of 200 words or more about a stranger. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $200. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit

200 words (or more) for 200 big ones. That's $1 per word. Easy right?

Put your pens to digital paper and get entering the first Prose Challenge of the Week 2017.

Here's to big and bold things.

Until next time, Prosers,

Prose.

Skinny yellow hound dog

stinky breath and flea infested

wears a red bandana

and stays by old man’s side.

He thinks he’s the boss

won’t come when called

opens one eye to see

old man asleep in chair.

Dog keeps guarded watch

throughout the night

but daylight brings truth -

master doesn’t breathe.

Now hound dog walks alone

along the rocky shore

to lie across master’s grave

devastated on frozen ground

howling at top of lungs

begging to be with owner,

chasing rabbits in the sky.

2016 was a year

Of hiding, running, cowering

Self hatred, insecurity

Sickness and heartbreak

Full of tears and sadness

2016 had me feeling

Utterly broken, shattered

Completely undone

A shell, a husk

A wisp of the person I am

I was lost, confused, alone

Unable to trust or believe

In others, in myself, in the universe

But the universe is built on balance

Yin and yang

Dark and light

Fire and water

2017 is the year

Of fierce and unashamed self love,

Of surrounding myself with people who challenge, inspire and uplift me,

Of feeding my soul

2017 will be the year

I love myself boldly, passionately, wildly

Finally embrace my strength, my intelligence, my fire

My fight

The year I stop hiding and shrinking myself

For the comfort of small people

No longer will I dim my glow, my shine

Tone down my intensity for fear of being too much

When it was them who weren't enough

No longer will I fight against myself,

Turn that power inward and self destruct

But heal it, harness it, unleash it

2016 was my fall

2017 will be my rise