Writings From the SilentChild

Mickayla Jade BaldwinTable of Contents

• Author's Forward• Personal Narrative

◦ Music Can Kill Pain

• Free Verse Poems◦ Eyes◦ Sun◦ Chair◦ When Life Gives You Lemons

• Form Poems◦ My Secret◦ The Act◦ Playground◦ The Demon That Lives Within Me◦ Hippity-Hop

• Short Stories◦ Unborn◦ Clozaril◦ Charlotte

• Author's Note

Author's Forward

During the semester that I took creative writing, I have learned many

new ways to help better my writing skills. One of those skills was using

meter. Meter involves stresses in words. Meter also uses a device called a

foot. A foot is a pattern or unit of unstressed and stressed beats. Unstressed

beats are represented by a U and the stressed beats are represented by a /.

Another useful skill I learned was knowing the different types of rhyme.

A few examples of rhyme are: Straight rhyme, slant rhyme, identical rhyme,

and eye rhyme. Straight rhyme is when the words rhyme exactly, like walk

and talk or house and mouse. Slant rhyme is when two words sound alike, but

don't rhyme exactly, like Heaven and given. Identical rhyme is when poets

use the same words to rhyme with itself. Example: Her eyes so bright, Yes

her eyes were so bright. An eye rhyme looks like they should rhyme, but

they sound different. Examples of eye rhyme are mood and wood or laughter

and slaughter.

One other useful skill I learned was brainstorming. Brainstorming was

one of the most useful skills I learned because it really helped when trying to

figure out what to write about. Not only can you brainstorm about the plot of

your story, you can also brainstorm your characters.

I used these skills mainly for my poetry. Knowing about all the different

rhyme patterns and meters really helped me expand my writing abilities. In

most of my poetry, I use rhyme. The poem is called Hippity-Hop; This was

one of the most difficult poems I wrote. I wrote this poem with two other

people, Brittany Schneider and Liz, McIlhenney, and trying to find rhymes

for some of the words was very difficult, but knowing the different type of

rhymes, we were able to accomplish the task.

One of my favorite pieces is my poem called The Act. I'm not exactly

sure why I like this piece so much. It might be the fact its about a guy who

enjoys the pain of the others. He watches them go through their daily routine

and plots his game. He then strikes and does it all over again.

One of the pieces I didn't like was a short story I created called Unborn.

I hate a great plot and story line, but the story wasn't going anywhere. I

couldn't figure out a good way to end the story.

One of the major assignments that was required, was to write an

extended short story. It had to be between 1000 and 3000 words. My story is

about a young girl whose mother had died during child birth. After Lexi's

sister, Charlotte, was born, their father got abusive. After Charlotte commits

suicide, Lexi decides to take revenge. This short story is called Charlotte.

Writing this piece was not too terribly difficult. It take awhile to figure out

what would have been good to put in and what not. I took sections out and

rewrote some new ones.

My final portfolio, which is this assignment, has helped see my

progress throughout the semester. It has helped me learn many new ways to

write my pieces and grow as writer.

Music Can Kill Pain

Happy people listen to the music, sad people listen to the lyrics. ~ Unknown

I sit in my room all alone with my thoughts. Voices inside my head I can’t escape from. Telling

me I’m not good enough, that everyone hates me, I should just die, and that everyone would be a lot

happier if I never existed. I stare down at the silver blade, resting in the palm of my hand. I look at the

scars on my arm. I think to myself, “No. I’m stronger than this.” I throw the blade across the room and

rest my head in my hands as fresh, warm tears cascade down my face. I feel like my world is falling

apart. I’m drowning. No one knows how I am feeling. No one can understand my psychotic emotions. I

am alone. I am alone.

I grab my six-string off its stand and wrap my fingers around the neck. I feel my fingers start to

mold onto the strings forming a G major chord, then D major, next E minor, then a C major. I strum. I

listen to the melodic chords surround me. I listen as the beating of my heart sets the tempo. I picture

myself in the woods, sitting on a boulder, playing my guitar. I open my eyes as the song ends. I take a

deep breathe and I continue.

Music has the power to kill pain. It battles the demons that have made its home among the

sorrow flowing through my veins. It makes the voices in my head scream in horror as the angels of

chords and harmony take over my body. I have been freed. I believe music is more powerful than

anti-depressants or doctors. Music is the best medicine. Music is my pain killer. This I believe.

Eyes She looks into his eyes,

those green-blue eyes.

She gets lost in a trance.

His perfect white tooth smile,

kissable lips.

They taste like pink lemonade

She will do anything for him.

Give her all to him,

She truly loved him.

Their hands fit perfectly together.

The way they interlocked, like two puzzle pieces

The way he squeezed her hand, that “Everything is alright” squeeze.

They way he hugged her,

kissed her.

Made her feel alive, safe, and loved

They had so much in common.

She felt like her world of pain and sorrow was at its end.

She was hypnotized.

But, it all came tumbling down;

That one text

It was painful

She was under his spell,

fooled by emotions.

She could feel her heart shatter.

She felt lied to and she felt used.

All her secrets no longer secret.

She refuses to love again

.

Can’t feel that horrible pain again.

Then someone asks if she is alright.

She looks up, and sees these eyes,

These beautiful green-blue eyes.

Sun

I sit alone

Just a hot ball of orange-yellow ball of firesizzling in the black gravitation-less realm

Colorful balls of blues, greens, reds, and purples surround meI can hear them making jokesgigglingconversing

While I, a ball of scorching flame, sit aloneI hear the taunting whistles and chuckles circle around meI watch as all the other little planets travel around meOnly using me

I am just a mere light

Guiding their travels

Chair

I feel all those hands.

Pulling me,

pushing me.

Knocking me over,

Picking me up.

I taste all the foods dropped onto me.

Some sweet like candy,

and others like rotten fruit.

I get the disgusting, sickly feeling when someone puts a sticky, wet booger underneath my seat.

I smell the burps of teens. gas of older men.

The sweet and sticky smell of young toddlers and the smell

of a freshly filled diaper of a small infant.

I also feel the pressure of fannies that vary in sizes, sit on

my face.

When Life Gives You Lemons

When life gives you lemons, what do you do?

Do you make lemonade?

What if you don’t want lemonade?

What if you want orange juice?

You want to know what you do?

You throw those lemons back and demand oranges

You control your own life

Sure, life can be a pain in arse

Life may push you down and stomp all over you

But you just get right back up and show life that you’re tougher than that

You are the boss, you make your own rules

Now, I’m not telling you too run off at 14 and get 30 tattoos without parental consent

No, I’m telling you that you have the the right to make your life how you want it

Your life is a story thats all about you, you write the chapters

There is no co-author

Like every story, there will drama, love, hurt, confusion

But if you don’t write your story yourself, then its not really your story at all

My Secret

Little purple daisies, thats how you smell.

You’re sweet like an infants’ coo.

But I have a secret that I'm going to tell,

I am a demon, straight from Hell.

I bet your heart will taste like fondue.

The Act

This is where he likes to play.

To watch, to listen, to perform his act,

To make sure every things perfect, their walk, their

sway.

This is where he likes to play.

Making his plan, day by day,

perfecting his work, where details lacked.

This is where he likes to play.

To watch, to listen, to perform his act.

Playground

Where all the little children play,

behind the burned down house.

Mommies and daddies tell them to stay.

The children reply “Okay”!

A man is lurking, as quiet as a mouse.

The Demon that Lives Within Me

Listen to my glorious cry!

I have finally done that, dreadful deed.

The child is gone.

You’ve struggled against the ropes of twine that bound your hands and feet,

you have bled and stained the carpet surrounding you.

Your face, pale with the look of defeat.

Your cold blue eyes, filled with defeat.

Your cheeks are stained from the tears that you cry.

Cold and gray cement walls surround you.

I hope Master is happy with this deed.

I walk around you and I stop at your feet,

all hope and happiness is gone.

I remember draining the blood from your body till it was all gone,

seeing you losing. You hung your head in defeat.

I tied your fragile hands, and delicate feet.

I looked at your face as you start to cry.

I have to do this thing, this horrible deed.

“I’m sorry. I love you”.

I remember when I first held you,

my love for you is not gone.

This demon wants me to do this devilish deed!

I do this because I was beaten down in defeat!

I put my own head in my hands and start to cry.

I collapse by your feet.

Your cold pale feet,

I wish it didn’t have to be you.

I just sit here and continue to cry.

I begged and begged, but he wanted you gone!

He insisted. So I hung my head in defeat,

I had to fulfill his monstrous deed.

This deed, oh this blasted deed!

My poor baby, I touch your ice cold feet,

my head lowered once more in defeat.

I love you, I love you!

All the time I had left, now gone,

all I can do is cry. Just cry, cry, cry..

I hear your mother cry.

She realizes now that you are forever gone,

She still loves you, I still love you.

Hippity-Hop

I watched the little rabbit go,

hippity-hop through the field.

His pace nice and slow,

His fate already sealed.

My unforgiving hunger refusing to yield.

I can hear it now, the little rabbit squeal,

the thought of a little ball of fur appealed.

I want my next meal.

One by one my talons show,

with the immense power I wield.

Little bunny, white as snow,

Oh how lovely you’d look peeled.

I swooped so low, feathers touching the field,

you look so good like a nice plate of veal.

Out in the open field, unconcealed,

I want my next meal.

Succulent, delicious, your blood streams flow,

with the pull of my beak, your insides revealed.

With every bite I take, I start to grow.

Frozen in death, your back bones keeled,

my hungry emotions, now unsealed.

I gobbled that bunny down with amounts of zeal.

Poor little bunny will never be healed.

I want my next meal.

Reflecting back, my mind reels,

with every single life I steal.

Sometimes I wish my actions could be repealed,

But, I want my next meal.

Unborn

“Ring around the rosy…” I watched as the children at the playground danced and sang their

tune. I watched the little girl with the shoulder length hair, color of auburn, swing on the swing set. I

saw another young child with eyes so green, they sparkled in the hot summer sun. I placed my hand

on my enlarged abdomen and felt my unborn infant kick. I smiled.“New mother?” I turned the woman

sitting next to me on the park bench. I nodded and she smiled back. “Congratulations. Who is the

father?” She asked. I looked down and my smile faded.

“Hes’ at the Meadows Psychiatric Hospital in Centre Hall, PA. He kept saying that our child

was going to be the son of Satan. That it had to go. Said, Hallie told him this.” I feel a tear running

down my face.

“Who is Hallie? If you don’t mind me asking?” I looked at her.

“Hallie was our 5 year old daughter who died when our house burned down.” She looked at me

and gave me a small pat on the shoulder and apologized.

“Mommy.. KILL HIM!” I heard her voice in my head. Her sweet voice sounded demonic and

harsh.

“Hallie?” I called.

Clozaril

***Clozaril is a drug that is normally used to help treat schizophrenia in children and adolescents

people and some of the side effects are, dizziness, sleepiness, and rejection to insulin… ***

“Who knows much longer she will last. Maybe we should just keep her locked up.” Nurse

Linney suggested to Doctor Jakes who was currently washing his hands, getting ready to admit

another dose of Clozaril.

“She will be fine.” He replied forcefully. Irritated that his brand new car was wreaked due to a

irresponsible teen. He administered the Clozaril. “See Nurse Linney, she is perfectly...”

“Quick Doctor! The patient is having a seizure!” One if the nurses called.

“Her blood sugar is rising!” Yelled another.

“She is flat lining!” another frantically called. Doctor Jakes grabbed an insulin pen and stabbed

the pen into the twelve-year-olds leg as the other nurses used a defibrillator to try and restart her

heart.

“Blood sugar is dropping, doctor.” Nurse Linney said with a sigh of relief.

“Lets get her to back to her room.” replied. “Make sure one of the Psych staff members is always

around to make sure her blood sugar is stabilizing.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Nurse Linney began to roll the girl out when the girl's hand grabs onto Doctor

Jake’s jacket.

“You made them angry.” She weakly grunted. She let go of the Doctor’s jacket and was

wheeled out of the room.

'Who did I make angry?” Doctor Jakes questioned. He shrugged it off and got back to work.

Charlotte

I remember that day. The sun was shining and birds were singing. I remember swinging on the

swing set in my backyard with my short blond hair blowing in the wind and settingling on the lashes

that cover my bright blue eyes when I heard my mother yell and some dishes breaking. My father runs

outside telling me get to go to my neighbor’s house and stay there. I did as I was told. I waited at the

island that stood in the middle of my neighbor’s small green and white kitchen when the phone rang.

Mrs. Garrett answered the phone. When she hung up she told me to get my shoes on and that we

were going to the hospital.

Her voice was quiet and had a saddened tone to it. I just nodded and ran to put my pink bobs

on. The car ride was silent. The only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of the car’s engine

and the small raindrops tapping on the windshield. By the time we had reached the hospital, the rain

started to pour. Lightning and thunder coursed through the black cloudy sky. My father was at the

entrance waiting. I smiled and ran to him but, stopped when I saw he was crying.

His face was stained from tears and his eyes were red like rubies. Mrs. Garrett embraced him

in a hug and he cried even harder. He looked at me and bent down in front of me to look me in the

eyes. He could I was confused. “Lexi… Mommy, Mommy has gone to heaven.” I looked at him with

utter confusion. What does he mean Mommy has gone to heaven? What does that mean? He

embraced me in his big strong arms. I have never saw my dad cry before. He loosened his grip and

stared me right in the eyes, “Mommy has gone to live with Jesus.” I just looked at him.

“She is too young to understand right now Jerry. How about she stay with Robert and I for a

few days.” Mrs. Garrett asked dad. He looked at me and then her. He nodded and they went off to talk

while I sat in the waiting room. A few moments later, Mrs. Garrett came back out and told me to follow

her. We went down this long hallway before coming to a stop in front of white room. I couldn’t see

much, but I heard the screams and cries of newborn infants. My father came out holding a small baby.

“Lexi, this is Charlotte. Your baby sister.” My father bent down so I could see her. I grinned and

touched her nose. I fell in love with her.

Years later, I was a senior in High School, my hair was now down to the middle of my back and

Charlotte, with her long brown hair covering her sea green eyes, was a Freshman. Things at home

weren’t the same since my mother passed away and Charlotte was born. Father was always angry,

coming home late wasted. Charlotte eventually moved into my room with me. She was so frightened.

Father blamed her for everything. He told her that is was her fault our mother died. Sometimes he

would beat her. Some nights are better than others. But most nights he would beat till she was lying

unconscious on the floor.

“Lexi, I can’t keep living like this.” she would tell me. “I have to get away.” then she would start

crying.

“I’m trying Char, I really am.” I would try and comfort her the best I can. Sometimes it helped. I

would hold her till she fell asleep. exhausted from crying. I rocked her till her sniffling stopped. Then

one night it happened. I came home from work to find my father passed out drunk on the couch. I

tiptoed past him and up the stairs to my room. Once I opened my bedroom door, I fell onto my knees. I

screamed. I frantically crawled over toward my sister. Her body limp, pale, cold. Her brown hair damp

with sweat. Her eyes so lifeless.

I held her in my arms like I did most nights, but this time I was the one crying. I pulled her

lifeless body into mine. Why?! I thought. Its all my fault! I didn’t do my job! I sobbed. My father burst

through my door. “What the hell are screaming for!?” He belted.

“You killed her! You killed her you monster!” I shouted. He just laughed.

“About time.” He chuckled and left my room. About an hour later, there were knock at the front

door. I heard my father open the door and shout at the person. “Get out of house! You have no right!”

He shouted angrily.

“Sir, we got a call stating that there was yelling and were asked to check it out.” I recognized

that voice. I ran downstairs.

“He killed her!” I shouted. I ran toward officer Thicket.

“Who killed who? Lexi, calm down.” I looked at my “father”.

“Him! He abused her so much she slit her wrists and killed herself!” I cried. Officer Thicket

looked at the other officer who standing by my father.

“Watch him. Make sure he doesn’t try and make a run. I’ll check things out.” Officer Thicket

told him. He nodded and stared at that monster. As Officer Thicket walked up the stairs, my father

spoke to me.

“You made a big mistake Lexi!” he shouted and lunged toward me. The other officer grabbed

him and handcuffed him.

“I’m afraid it's’ you who made the mistake. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you

say can and will be used against you in the court of law….” The other officer was telling my father.

Finally, this is all over. But I can’t let it go this easily.

Its been six years since my sister passed and my father was arrested. My father has been let

out on parole and its now time to put my plan into action. I followed my father to the motel he has been

staying at for the last few weeks and watched him get out of the taxi cab and walk through the door. Its

now three in the morning; Its time. I pick the lock on the door and find him passed out on the bed.

handcuff his arms and legs to each of the wooden bed posts. I put duct tape over his mouth. I start to

play his and my mother’s song and turn the volume up loud. His eyes opened and he tried to move.

He struggled against the restraints.

“So father, how was prison?” I said while walking around him. His eyes started to fill with

anger. I smiled. I bent down in front of him and ripped the tape off of his mouth. He screamed in pain.

“I am going to make sure, you feel the pain that you put Charlotte through. I am going to make sure

you scream in agony. Plead for mercy. Beg for forgiveness.”

“Never,” he spat. “Your sister deserved worse than what I did to her.” He smiled a crooked

smiled. My Smiled faded. I put another piece of duct tape over his mouth. I walked into the next room

and came back with an empty bowl. I set it down in front of him as i grabbed another container. I

slowly poured the liquid into the bowl. I watched as his eyes went from angry, to confused, to terrified.

I lifted his hand and dipped into the puddle of acid I just poured. I listened to his screams. The sweet,

sweet sound of his pain.

I repeated this action three more times. Each time more pleasurable than the last. I could see

the tears begin to spill from his eyes. “See father? The pain isn’t so funny when its the other way

around huh?” I pushed him back against the wall. I took a wooden baseball bat from the corner. “Look

daddy. Remember this?” I hit him hard in the gut. “Its the same baseball bat you used to teach how to

swing.” I hit him again slightly harder. “It is also, the same bat, you used to hit Charlotte!” I said furious.

I hit him again and again.

He died later the next day in the ICU. The police got a call about a disturbance. Maybe brutally

beating him in his one bedroom motel room wasn’t the smartest choice. But every great plan has

some flaw. I now spend my days locked away in a cell, awaiting the day I meet my father in Hell.

Author's Note

Here is the original version of my short story, Charlotte: I remember that day. The sun was shining and

birds were singing. I remember swinging on the swing set in my backyard when I heard my mother yell and

some dishes breaking. My father runs outside telling me get to go to my neighbor’s house and stay there. I did as

I was told. I waited at the island that stood in the middle of my neighbor’s small green and white kitchen when

the phone rang. Mrs. Garrett answered the phone. When she hung up she told me to get my shoes on and that we

were going to the hospital.

Her voice was quiet and had a saddened tone to it. I just nodded and ran to put my pink bobs on. The car ride

was silent. The only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of the car’s engine and the small raindrops

tapping on the windshield. By the time we had reached the hospital, the rain started to pour. Lightning and

thunder coursed through the black cloudy sky. My father was at the entrance waiting. I smiled and ran to him

but, stopped when I saw he was crying.

His face was stained from tears and his eyes were red like rubies. Mrs. Garrett embraced him in a hug and he

cried even harder. He looked at me and bent down in front of me to look me in the eyes. He could I was

confused. “Lexi… Mommy, Mommy has gone to heaven.” I looked at him with utter confusion. What does he

mean Mommy has gone to heaven? What does that mean?

He embraced me in his big strong arms. I have never saw my dad cry before. He loosened his grip and stared me

right in the eyes, “Mommy has gone to live with Jesus.” I just looked at him.

“She is too young to understand right now Jerry. How about she stay with Robert and I for a few days.” Mrs.

Garrett asked dad. He looked at me and then her. He nodded and they went off to talk while I sat in the waiting

room. A few moments later, Mrs. Garrett came back out and told me to follow her. We went down this long

hallway before coming to a stop in front of white room. I couldn’t see much, but I heard the screams and cries of

newborn infants. My father came out holding a small baby.

“Lexi, this is Charlotte. Your baby sister.” My father bent down so I could see her. I grinned and touched her

nose. I fell in love with her.

Years later, I was a senior in High School and Charlotte was a Freshman. Things at home weren’t the

same since my mother passed away and Charlotte was born. Father was always angry, coming home late,

wasted. Charlotte eventual moved into my room with me. She was so frightened. Father blamed everything on

her. Told her that is was her fault our mother died. Sometimes he would beat her. Some nights are better than

others. But most nights, he would beat till she was lying unconscious on the floor.

“Lexi, I can’t keep living like this.” she would tell me. “I have to get away.” then she would start crying.

“I’m trying Char, I really am.” I would try and comfort her the best I can. Sometimes it helped. I would

hold her till she fell asleep. exhausted from crying. I rocked her till her sniffling stopped. Then one night it

happened. I came home from work to find my father passed out drunk on the couch. I tiptoed past him and up

the stairs to my room. Once I opened my bedroom door, I fell onto my knees. I screamed. I frantically crawled

over toward my sister. Her body limp, pale, cold.

I held her in my arms like I did most nights, but this time I was the one crying. I pulled her lifeless body

into mine. Why?! I thought. Its all my fault! I didn’t do my job! I sobbed. My father burst through my door.

“What the hell are screaming for!?” He belted.

“You killed her! You killed her you monster!” I shouted. He just laughed.

“About time.” He chuckled and left my room. About an hour later, there were knock at the front door. I

heard my father open the door and shout at the person. “Get out of house! You have no right!” He shouted

angrily.

“Sir, we got a call stating that there was yelling and were asked to check it out.” I recognized that voice.

I ran downstairs.

“He killed her!” I shouted. I ran toward officer Thicket.

“Who killed who? Lexi, calm down.” I looked at my “father”.

“Him! He abused her so much she slit her wrists and killed herself!” I cried. Officer Thicket looked at

the other officer who standing by my father.

“Watch him. Make sure he doesn’t try and make a run. I’ll check things out.” Officer Thicket told him.

He nodded and stared at that monster. As Officer Thicket walked up the stairs, my father spoke to me.

“You made a big mistake Lexi!” he shouted and lunged toward me. The other officer grabbed him and

handcuffed him.

“I’m afraid it's’ you who made the mistake. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can

and will be used against you in the court of law….” The other officer was telling my father. Finally, this is all

over. But I can’t let it go this easily.

Its been six years since my sister passed and my father was arrested. My father has been let out on parole

and its now time to put my plan into action. I followed my father to the motel he has been staying at for the last

few weeks and watched him get out of the taxi cab and walk through the door. Its now three in the morning; Its

time. I pick the lock on the door and find him passed out on the bed. handcuff his arms and legs to each of the

wooden bed posts. I put duct tape over his mouth. I start to play his and my mother’s song and turn the volume

up loud. His eyes opened and he tried to move. He struggled against the restraints.

“So father, how was prison?” I said while walking around him. His eyes started to fill with anger. I

smiled. I bent down in front of him and ripped the tape off of his mouth. He screamed in pain. “I am going to

make sure, you feel the pain that you put Charlotte through. I am going to make sure you scream in agony. Plead

for mercy. Beg for forgiveness.”

“Never,” he spat. “Your sister deserved worse than what I did to her.” He smiled a crooked smiled. My

Smiled faded. I put another piece of duct tape over his mouth. I walked into the next room and came back with

an empty bowl. I set it down in front of him as i grabbed another container. I slowly poured the liquid into the

bowl. I watched as his eyes went from angry, to confused, to terrified. I lifted his hand and dipped into the

puddle of acid I just poured. I listened to his screams. The sweet, sweet sound of his pain.

I repeated this action three more times. Each time more pleasurable than the last. I could see the tears

begin to spill from his eyes. “See father? The pain isn’t so funny when its the other way around huh?” I pushed

him back against the wall. I took a wooden baseball bat from the corner. “Look daddy. Remember this?” I hit

him hard in the gut. “Its the same baseball bat you used to teach how to swing.” I hit him again slightly harder.

“It is also, the same bat, you used to hit Charlotte!” I said furious. I hit him again and again.

He died later the next day in the ICU. The police got a call about a disturbance. Maybe brutally beating

him in his one bedroom motel room wasn’t the smartest choice. But every great plan has some flaw. I now spend

my days locked away in a cell, awaiting the day I meet my father in Hell.

Original Eyes:

She looks into his eyesThose Green Blue eyesLoses herself in a tranceHis smile, Oh his smileHis perfect white tooth smileHis kissable lipsThey taste of Pink LemonadeShe will do anything for himGive her all to himShe truly loved himHer hand fit perfectly in hisThe way they interlockedThe way he squeezed her handThat “Everything is alright” squeezeThey way he hugged herKissed herMade her feel aliveSafeLovedHad so much in commonShe felt like her world of Pain and Sorrow was at its endShe a hypnotizedBut, it all came tumbling downThat one textPainfulShe was under his spellFooled by emotionsShe felt her heart shatterShe felt lied toUsedAll her secrets no longer secretRefuses to love againCan’t feel that horrible pain again

Someone asks if she is alrightShe looks upShe falls for his eyesThose beautiful Green Blue Eyes

Original Clozaril:

***Clozaril is a drug that is normally used to help treat schizophrenia in children and adolescents people and some of the side effects are, dizziness, sleepiness, and rejection to insulin… ***

“Who knows much longer she will last. Maybe we should just keep her locked up.” Nurse Linney suggested to Doctor Jakes who was currently washing his hands, getting ready to admit another dose of Clozaril.“She will be fine.” He replied forcefully. Already irritated by the fact the car he bought last week was smashed by a drunk teen on his way home from a party. He administered the Clozaril. “See Nurse Linney, she is perfectly,”“Quick Doctor! The patient is having a seizure!” One if the nurses called.“Her blood sugar is dropping!” Yelled another.“She is flat lining!” another frantically called. Doctor Jakes grabbed a glucagon and stabbed the pen into the twelve-year-old’s leg as the other nurses used a defibrillator to try and restart her heart.“Blood sugar is rising doctor.” Nurse Linney said with a sigh of relief.“Lets get her to back to her room.” replied. “Make sure one of the Psych staff member is always around to make sure her blood sugar keeps rising.”“Yes Doctor.” Nurse Linney began to roll the girl out when her hand grabbed Doctor Jake’s jacket.“You made them angry.” She weakly grunted. She let go of the Doctor’s jacket and was wheeled out of the room.

Original Unborn:

“Ring around the rosy…” I watched as the children at the playground danced and sang their tune. I watched the little girl with the shoulder length hair, color of auburn, swing on the swing set. I saw another young child with eyes so green, they sparkled in the hot summer sun. I placed my hand on my enlarged abdomen and felt my unborn infant kick. I smiled.

“New mother?” I turned the woman sitting next to me on the park bench. I nodded and she smiled back. “Congratulations. Who is the father?” She asked. I looked down and my smile faded.“Hes’ at the Meadows Psychiatric Hospital in Centre Hall, PA. He get saying that our child was going to be the son of Satan. He said that it had to go. Said, Hallie told him this.” I feel a tear running down my face.“Who is Hallie? If you don’t mind me asking?” I looked at her.“Hallie was our 5 year old daughter who died when our house burned down.” She looked at me and gave me a half smile. “Mommy.. KILL HIM!” I heard her voice in my head.

Original The Demon That Lives Within Me:

Listen to my glorious cryI have finally done the dreadful deedThe child is goneYou’ve struggled against the ropes of twine that bound your hands and feetYou have bled and stained the carpet around youYour face, pale, look of defeat

Your cold, blue eyes filled with defeatYour cheeks are stained from the tears you cryThe cold, grey, cement walls surround youI hope Master is happy with this deedI walk around you, stopping at your feetAll hope and happiness is gone I remember draining the blood till it was all gone,the feeling of her losing, she hung her head in defeatI tied up her fragile hands, and delicate feetI look at her face as she starts to cryDoing this thing, this horrible deed,I say, “I’m sorry. I love you”. I remember when I first held youMy love for you is not gone.The demon wants me to do this devilish deedI do this because I was beaten down in defeatI put my own head in my hands and start to cryI collapse by your feet Your cold pale feetI wish it didn’t have to be youI just sit here and continue to cryI begged and begged, but he wanted you goneBut he insisted, so I hung my head in defeatI had to fulfill his monstrous deed This deed, oh this blasted deed!My poor baby, I touch your ice cold feetmy head lowered once more in defeatI love you, I love youAll the time I had left, now goneAll I can do is cry, Just cry, cry, cry.. I hear your mother cryShe realizes now you are forever gone,She still loves you, I still love you

Original My Secret:

Little, purple daisies, thats how you smell.

You’re sweet, like an infants’ coo.But I have a secret that i’m going to tell,I am a demon, straight from Hell.I bet your heart, will taste like fondu.