Polar Plastic Girl.

Working weary palms into a lather,
wrung from havoc wreaked by her hummingbird mind.
A grenade of ghastly hues ground together
until deep jade and forest greens highlighted
each grain of her sandy gaze.

As steeped in symbolism as the burning nun,
society seemed deadset on seeing her become a saintly victim.
With a single violent stroke,
she shed the mask she'd worn that evening,
like a clown deprived of sleep.

A circus acrobat, perhaps, or tight-rope walker;
painted garishly in pancake makeup.
Whatever you desire her to be, she revolts;
repulsed by the men that seek to destroy her with control.

She is the spectator, but also the spectacle!
A sight for sore eyes,
as the paint spilled on her pallette
poured into the pain inside her pageant heart.

Erose.

At the junction of jilted lovers,
where animation intersects with
anxiety, antagazoned until I
explode into an overdose of ennui.

Mother Christmas.

For all the times your limbs howled from pain,
but all you did was smile through the stress.
Those nights when you would lie awake
as tears streamed from your eyes onto the soaking wet bed. 
None of it went unnoticed,
you are the best example of all that we cherish. 
There were days you made us meals from magic
without worrying us that each one might have been our last. 
The true spirit of compassion, giving glows within you,
which is why there's no one more deserving of joy this season. 
Mommy dearest, without you,
there would be nothing merry about Christmas;
you are our pride and joy, our shining star—
evidence of all that's brilliant.

Mufasa.

Assertiveness is no anomaly to me,
it remarkably reigns over my own internal beasts.
Still it somehow seems intent on sabotaging my inner-peace,
until my confidence depletes, and leads to self-degradation in the streets.

The truth seems to thrive on thrashing only me,
whilst simultaneously improving every snail or impala's self-esteem.
This destructive quality only endangers my own sanity,
so like the birds and bees, I must also set it free.

Unlike leopards, I can easily change my spots,
as my journey into healing relies on integrity, which can't be bought.
Unless I learn to celebrate myself, I will never find the happiness I've sought.
In order to save my kingdom, self-love is where I ought to start;
no more rumbles in my jungle—it's time I listened to my heart.