This Is Me

It returns Just as it had walked away. There are dead ends now, From so many different ways. Shes black and white now. Where once there had been green. She was forced to let go. Of who she wants to be. Yet she's back. Standing right there. With colour in her lips And wind blowing Through her hair. She's strong. Just as it had turned away, She armed herself, And fought it anyway. The battle took place, Within her complex mind. She fell. Then she stood. Time after time. Boneata Bell

Judged So many people want me dead.  I can see that just by their rolling eyes. It's not my fault I have a one and a half year old teenager. He's screaming. He's fighting my hold. Whilst my mother casually purchases floor cleaner. Pretending she isn’t with me. I scowl at her. To everyone's horror I nearly drop my son. I battle to keep him away from the shelves. It's my turn to roll my eyes. He's basically Hulk Hogon. I decide to leave the store. It's my safest option. Diego begins to calm down. I’m thrilled with my fantastic parenting decision. Boneata 1 – judgmental, probably childless strangers Nil.  A lady approaches me. Probably full of pity for the struggling parent, she gives her biggest smile towards Diego and says "aren't you absolutely lovely?” I panic. Well I try to panic but I hardly even have a second to initialize my panicking before my son begins to shake his head hysterically and shouts "No!...

Toddler Attack I placed my darling son in his playpen as I battled to keep my eyes open. I never wanted to be one of these parents who chose a quick way out; I vowed to constantly entertain my child with educational games and stories. Yet, after another early morning wakeup call and a couple of hours at work I was ready to drop. I faltered, nearly losing my balance. So I piled up his playpen with safe toys to keep him occupied and proceeded to sprawl across the carpet in front of the fire. My boy was safe. Now I could nap... It took me 40 minutes before I finally began to drift… I felt a sharp pain hit me in the face and was sure I had been blinded as I attempted to open my eyes. I searched for the weapon that had almost knocked me out. My giggling toddler stood watching me, at least three metres away. His instrument of choice lay by my feet. As I came to terms with the fact that my son had attempted to attacked me, that he must be the next world class baseball player, a...