Jacqueline Schroth
Bio
silent thinker. full mind. clear voice. happy soul.
Stories (2/0)
A Weed
You are a stinging bee, flying from flower to flower. None were quite right until you found me, a dandelion. Intrigued by my unique form, you landed. Trying to collect my pollen, I am just a weed I have none, but still you continued to poke and bite, until you blew away all of my seeds, wishing for control. Your violent prodding tore me apart, but what was I to do? I am just a dandelion. I cannot move. I just let it happen. For 2 whole years I let you sting me, it gets harder and harder to cover my stem and my seeds and my leaves. Everyone was convinced that I was a flower, perfect for the bee, but it wasn't until I stung back that I told the garden that I am a weed infecting your lovely patch you call romance. I am a dandelion, a bee has no use for me and I have no need for the bee.
By Jacqueline Schroth7 years ago in Poets
Other Worldly
We wish to speak to the dead. Mom? Dad? Are you there? You passed on the red lantern to light my way through life without you two. I wear my dad’s shirt and my mother’s robe, your smells intertwine and rush into my nose. I’ve never felt more at peace, more at home. The broom behind me are my responsibilities as the oldest of my generation. No one is there to guide me. My life’s in my own hands, and for the first time, I am free. I have become obsessed with the idea of freedom. My door is cracked open to free the demons trapped in my room. I punched a hole in the wall to free the Titans that live in them. Mom? Dad? I’m ready to set you free.
By Jacqueline Schroth7 years ago in Poets