Author's Note: Greetings, my lovelies. I would apologize for taking such a time to update, but, at the moment, I am completely exhausted from numerous college midterms, lotsa shift-switching (man, it's fun to say that!) at work, and these horrible ideas for stories and poems just running through my head on a loop. Really, at the moment, I'm running on Nutella toast, coffee, and a marathon of old "Criminal Minds" episodes and Linkin Park music.
Seriously, life is stressful – even with the birthday approaching and the parental units scheduling a visit – and I've been working hard, playing less. But, never the latter, I felt a bit shite-y about not being able to get on here and contribute something to the FanFiction Society. So, in an effort to cheer myself up, here is the first female villanelle in my collection.
Disclaimer(s): I do not own, nor pretend to, the poetry form in the following piece: some French guy invented this style (villanelles) about 300 years ago, I think. Yes, the titles to each of my poems are a segue to particular episodes of Criminal Minds, which I also do not claim any rights to (save my extensive DVD collection). And if I owned Penelope Garcia, then I probably wouldn't be having such a hard time trying to hack Cillian Murphy's email, now, would I?
Reviews are unnecessary, but are still read and appreciated.
Do enjoy.
* * * * * * * TrueLoveIsCriminal * * * * * * *
"Exit Wounds"
I've been told I'm bright in so many ways –
that "playing me" makes people stop and stare –
but that's just my shield to sift through life's haze.
I'm not perfect: I'll settle to amaze,
to step out of line (why, yes, I do dare!).
I've been told I'm bright in so many ways . . .
Computers are my all: my code, my craze –
they make sense when life is too much to bare –
and they are my shields to sift through life's haze.
My heart is not "just some Garcia phase,"
but I've had to shelve it (too much, I care)
and try to stay "bright in so many ways."
What I've seen, done, . . . with me it always stays . . .
a crushing sort of weight my soul must bear
(chinks in my armor that sifts through life's haze).
But I've survived it all – taken life's flays,
fought with resilience, a smirk, a glare . . .
and I know I'm bright in so many ways –
that's how I conquer the dark of life's haze.
* * * * * * * TrueLoveIsCriminal * * * * * * *
