Papillion Hejduk

Dancing with the Devil, All lies and deceit
Many a mistake, were bound to repeat

Cheating all others, their bounty you take
...

hope is the rack whice i hang my dreams upon.
carefully placing one article of my future on hope.

hope is the box which i place my thoughts in gingerly folding my aspirations into trying.
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Who will cry for the little boy?
Lost and all alone.
Who will cry for the little boy?
Abandoned without his own.
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I am a stranger, un-welcomed by many, but know by all
I’m not short in stature; some might even call me tall
Some never know I’m there, until my fragrance catch’s their attention
Most would never even tell a soul, I’m never to be mentioned
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Pressing down upon me,
With all its trials and its burdens.
Holding me back from my achievements,
Lessening its hold for no man.
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No matter what you say it dosn't take the pain away that i fell inside. i am tired of all the lies. when will it ever make sence.
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Ability is to look at a blank page, and create a poem
Ability is to stare into the eyes of fear, and come out stronger because of it.
Ability is to walk into a room of strangers, and come out with friends.
Ability is to admit you are wrong, when you are wrong.
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With time the child draws in
This whipping boy done wrong
Deprived of all her thoughts
The young woman struggles on
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Lay beside me
Tell me what they’ve done
Speak the words I wanna hear
To make my demons run
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A forgotten art
stollen by persuading eyes
Brings out a love
of shattering cries
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She walks in limbo as the rain drops splash upon her head
Thinking of her lover who she left in bed
Her tears and cry's are blinded by the rain
Mascara running down her face
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She is wire
Easily bent and twisted
Molded and shaped by uncaring hands.
She’s a coat hanger under the clothes
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STICKS AND
STONES MAY
BREAK HER
BONES BUT
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Sight,
fails at the place
where a mirage of ending floats.
There,
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Wind whistling in her hair
Tears streaking her face
There is no end to the sorrow that fills
Her soul every waking moment
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Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
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A teenager-
Closely watched by store security as to avoid any kind of larceny
Through his eyes, this kid is surely a thief. He surveys her every move waiting for the act. So that he can catch her and set her straight. Straight unlike her tousled bright red hair. He shakes his head in disapproval; does she expect people not to stare? Impossible
With her graffiti- colored, over- sized jeans; too wide black clunky boots to high topping it off, with nothing at all; tiny tight shirt, much to small, thick silver chains, her jewelry no doubt, make it easy to keep track of her where abouts thanks to the annoying sound they chime they look ridicules. As though enslaving her forcing her to go out in public as she does and yet, seems confident proud of her image. Security guard wonders when she’ll grow up. He paces back and forth – impatiently as if waiting for her to make the change to “maturity” before even exiting the store.
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If the sun did not rise and set
would we know of time?
If the stars did not shine at night
would we know of infinity?
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As I opened the blinds
I saw the sign post in your eyes.
I hadn’t realized
despite the clues
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The glass reflected this superficial version of a broken person
Living a broken life
Drowning in the tears she cries
She runs her hands along the glass
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