Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
Where I can feel at home…
Filter the rain from the mountaintops, where acidic droplets beat down, an acrid taste, a burning sensation of skin besieged by astringent vowels. This was not intended, though this was required, her purging, pairs of eager, shiny boots step forth,
"Something Dear and Personal" - Spoken by myself. If something deeply personal is what you want to read, by all means settle in, grab hot cocoa, or steaming cup of tea. What can I share? What will I reveal? Grab desperately from my past? Drag forth contentious, gossip-worthy, or scintillating news? [...]
She’s had enough. Life, with its cruel measures, she’s defeated, broken, dare say surpassed feeling rough, her thoughts may not terrify, but they will reveal salted, open wounds. What is the point in detailing mediocre thoughts, some things which, in the moment, seemed thoughtful, and loving, caring, or clever, but of these qualities, her thoughts [...]
“Smile!” they tell me, “Cheer up, it’s not so bad.” I smile sardonically, retort facetiously, wriggle an erect finger from my hand. I hate being told what to do, why can’t they mind their own business? Did I ask for their opinions out of the blue? Did they believe their words would be cherished? [...]
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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