spots poem

Why does the tiny red ladybug sleep in the morning dew?
Spots shown to the world not ashamed not vain
But we can’t manage for a second to let our spots show
We will never have enough to let a rusty old nail be the souvenir
Of life’s checker game
The flowers hum unheard as her striped shirt is ripped on the nonexistent nail of checkers
Why is this said?
You ask,
Just kick off your shoes and run in the grass
Let the leaves catch fire when you run past
When you feel the musty joy of spring you tell me about your neighbors ripped striped shirt
You sew your head shut
The blood is sprayed across the room
If it hits the light bulb one more time it will be too loud to sleep
The hairspray is toxic I tell my sister
As she drinks the paint wanting a high
It’s not worth is I tell her
Her brain WILL BREAK
She does not care or listen as my dreams dance
Across the television
The flash blinds me
As records, 8tracks, tapes, and C.D.’s
Spin around my nose in a whir of the past
He hits me with the iron hammer
The robin falls in the mud
Tears streak down my face
As I fall too
It is cold and it stinks like red shoes and antlers made out of pineapple
In a happier note the corner of my pinky nail is blue
Painted sparkly by the hand of my best friend
Just wondering can you reap the wheat with a needle
Enough to fill the bellies of many?
The homeless women on the street still sings
The songs of truth, happiness, and spirals
How can someone with no money
Still see the ring of the spiral or the arch in the
McDonalds sign, millions and millions served
For now I think of angels and white ribbons and lace
And wonder why the ladybug can show it’s spot