delicatechildofchaos-blog

[delicatechildofchaos-blog]

The Bitch is Back (C)    2.24.2017

I think it’s unfair for you to assume,

that I won’t rip your fucking face off.

And if that sounded like a threat-

then I'm starting this shit off right. 

You see, I get my inspiration exactly at the stroke of 3. 

When the moon is settled and cloaked in blackness. 

And that devil comes a callin-

We’ll,

my phone won’t even have to ring. 

I’ve been caged up far too long, 

to keep playing this shit safe.

And all the politeness

 has become a short leash around my neck.

Pull it tighter, and I just might choke.

I know that turns you on. 

 Push me on all fours 

like your good little bitch.

 I've learned to be very obedient. 

The only place I'll misbehave is in the bedroom,

 just like you trained me to-

because you need a bad bitch. 

Still all those tricks I do with my tongue-

don’t stop you from balling up your fists. 

Mm, you know how to keep a bitch in line.

Muzzled my own voice, when you shouted- “Shut up! Bitch!”

Because my cries for help were just heard as,

 incessant barking.

Drowned out by the sound of neighbors

 turning up their t.v.’s...

They say if you back a dog into a corner she’s gonna bite. 

Or maybe its that every dog has her day.

 And I don't really like to talk about it.

But when you fell asleep, I almost placed a pillow over your face. 

I mean, I was about to sink my teeth into your throat- 

until I tasted blood.

Until my canines hit bone. 

And I stayed up all night howling at the moon.

Something wild had unleashed inside me,

no longer domesticated.

I was able to roam like a free bitch. 

And eat like a free bitch.

And fuck like a free bitch. 

and live like a free bitch-

Because yea, I’m that BITCH! 

Written By Sydney Morenike Odion-Smith

[delicatechildofchaos-blog]

Paper Girl (C)                       6.25.16

He said I needed to be re-imagined.

That I was not yet a work of art. 

So he took me back to the drawing board, 

and drew down my curves. 

Because my shape took up too much of his canvas.

I use to be taller,

but he erased my spine-

and penciled in uncertainty.

My smile was bright as yellow paint,

but he told me that men preferred gold.

It was just that, 

He didn’t have any gold paint-

so I was stripped of all my hopefulness, instead. 

He sketched my hair long and straight.

Shaded me in with notes on how I could improve,

but still,

He couldn’t fix my discoloration.

The mistakes he’d made with a sharpie marker-

were now my permanent scars. 

He traced me out an empty heart

and signed his name in the middle.

I was then cut from flimsy tissue paper.

Fragile and transparent. 

He tried to hang me up, 

with tacks and nails and tape. 

He pinned me against the wall with such force-

but I just wouldn’t stick.

I couldn’t fit any of his frames...

Finally,

 he ripped me up;

and threw me away.

Written By Sydney Morenike Odion-Smith

[delicatechildofchaos-blog]

Damp (C)                                  6.11.16

Written By Sydney M. Odion-Smith

I don’t remember if it was raining,

yet darkness soaked the room.

a faucet left on, and no one was home 

tears streamed down her cheeks

drowning, as she choked for air.

he stayed laying by her side-

on soggy pillows. 

 They floated silently on top shallow water-

He was helping her from sinking.

He did not judge her

she was crashing from a high

she forgot to take her pills

No, she had stopped taking her pills

He did not judge her

He did not understand

Or maybe he did?

He knew that she was trying to be happy.

pretending to be happy.

wanted to be happy .

needed to be happy.

that is why he cradled her in his arms

he did not judge her

but asked why?

I can’t remember her answer

or if it was the truth...

but, he accepted the words for what they were

he did not judge her. 

[delicatechildofchaos-blog]

Entitled (C)                                 6.7.16

Written By Sydney M. Odion-Smith

Your ignorance leaves me Speechless Your intolerance Drains me Your ability to see the good in everything- But me Because the color of my skin paints your whitewashed walls Because my hips are too wide for your narrow path Because my lips are too big to drink down your oppression You cannot dull my shine No matter how hard you try and- rub me out You cannot smooth down the edges of my diamond I’m sharper than your blade Sharp enough to cut through the glass ceilings you have built Through the chains you have shackled to my ankles Through the graves you have dug for my family What doesn’t kill us, Only makes you angrier Your hatred knows no bounds Rooted so deeply in the fear of- me? Funny, You can climb the highest mountains And swim to the bottom of the deepest seas- But a black child walking, Sends a shiver down your spine? You pure innocent thing, Don’t cry There is nothing to be afraid of- But you You who have wiped out tribes You who have poisoned and infected cultures You who have dissolved and dismantled societies The reason your hands are so pale- Is to see all the blood that stains them It is caked under your nails Could that be why you greet me with your arms behind your back? Can’t quite muster the strength to look me in the eye Not while you're hiding behind ironclad doors Thick enough to protect your guilt Tall enough to shelter your privilege Viewing my world through a peephole As we live out here- bare and exposed mimicked and mocked poked and prodded BEATEN AND RAPED

Muted

so you cannot hear our screams.

[delicatechildofchaos-blog]

All The Pretty Things (C)  5.29.16

Written By Sydney M. Odion-Smith

In a world of perfectly round circles I am a jagged square. I hide these jagged scars and blemished skin Under layer upon layer of- Sarcasm.

In a world of tiny dancers Twirling across stage with Ken Draped in pink chiffon I waltz alone. Stumbling around in the dark To a scratched record.

In world of Mona Lisas And Monroes Halles, Hayeks, and Heidis

I am nameless.

[delicatechildofchaos-blog]

Before I Was Born (C)         6.11.16

Written By Sydney M. Odion-Smith

I’ve let go. 

I gave it my best effort.

With all the strength I had 

I-

 tried so hard to hold on. 

But,

My fingers began to ache.

And,

my palm got sweaty.

My arm became so weak.

I couldn’t lift the weight in my chest-

It just kept getting heavier!

Hm,

truthfully, I was-

barely hanging in there.

Continually dangling between,

 past and never fully present.

and all the while I-

Couldn’t stop looking down.

Below,

Waves crashed violently against a bed of rocks.

The sound of the collision,

was too loud to ignore. 

Always in the back of my mind-

playing over and over, 

how my skull would hit the ground.

cracking open on impact. 

Would the blood be washed into the ocean?

Rinsing me of all my failures. 

Dissolving this hatred, and guilt, and shame. 

Would the hurt make the pain go away?

Could I watch it all unfold?

Eyes wide open, as I lie lifeless. 

Huh?

I am looking down again, 

finally set free from that broken shell. 

Lifted by the breeze-

steadily toward the sun.

I want to burn slowly. 

Dissipating into tiny specs of matter.

Disappearing among the atmosphere-

without a trace.

Completely wiped from the memory of those who knew me-

if death is only the beginning,

and life is for the living,

hold me in that time before birth-

when I didn’t exist.