The Island of Broken Toys


The Island of Broken Toys
A nightmares reality
A cursed ground for all the
Unwanted, unneeded, imperfect
This Island of dust
Its only residents
Our very own idol
In a world of perfection there is no room for mistakes
21 inch waist
30 inch bust
Long legs, slim arms, perfect face
Everything toned in all the right places
The image of the perfect woman
Those Barbies only see this place as their very own version of Hell
A secret they dare not even whisper

The Island of Broken Toys
Perfect women don’t belong here
Throughout these sandboxes are only lost souls
22 inch waist
33 inch bust
Stubby legs, arms like broken sticks, a smudge on her lips
Much too far away from perfection
Here they lie
Taking the hand they were dealt
If you are not perfect, you are not worth it

These Barbies eat nothing but…

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Healing words for Saturday June 24th

Therapy Bits

Be careful what you water your dreams with. Water them with worry and fear and you will produce weeds that choke the life from your dreams. Water them with optimism and solutions and you will cultivate success. Always be on the lookout for ways to turn a problem into an opportunity for success. Always be on the lookout for ways to nurture your dream.
Lao Tzu


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Growing Doubt

Craftie Beaver

If you’re going to plant something, make it your:
Reliance on God.

Don’t plant doubt. Doubt is a weed.
Grows fast and takes over everything.
No fruit or flowers can grow
With doubt around.

Doubt will have your well-maintained yard of confidence
Looking like:
A Jungle. Chaos. Hell.
In no time.

Who’s the:
Constant Gardener?

Holy Spirit

Doubt is like poison ivy:
Starts an itch that can’t be satisfied.

Once doubt takes over, I can’t stop it.
I’d have to burn my whole house down
To the ground
To beat it.

Scorched earth.
Have no worth.
I steal my mirth
With a Confidence dearth.

I can’t keep this yard on my own. Ask for help.
I’m an inexperienced novice with no skills.
No one ever taught me how to be awesome.
Everyone only reminded me of fear and failure.


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Scar Tissue


Did I tell you about the time I climbed the apple tree, went out onto the thinnest branch and reached for the biggest, juiciest fruit? Did I tell you how loud I screamed when the branch broke and my falling body was impaled on the thicker, sharper bough below me?

The doctors were still digging wood out of my back weeks later. I still have the scar. I used to show it to girls and tell them it was a shark bite. Who’d believe a thing like that? Who’d believe a word I say?

Reached too high,
Fell too far.
Touched the sky,
Feel my scar.

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I grew in the most unexpected of places

Dear Hope

I grew in the most unexpected of places,
In the winter,
Underneath the silky frost,
Or at the bottom of black oceans,
I grew amongst the side of freeways,
Underneath headlights,
I grew amongst blood splatters,
that ran like oil paint,
I grew in tired houses,
And on pieces of paper,
Under a 2am moon,
That cast down a spotlight,
I grew in elastic thunder,
In midnight-coloured nights,
And starving deserts,
You see,
No matter where your fist sprinkles my seeds,
My crumbs,
My leftovers,
I will still
Like bruised freesias,
maybe I’m not the prettiest bouquet you’ve ever clapped your eyes on,
But I’m indefinitely,
The most durable.
// TPT

This poem was submitted by the wonderful Skye, also known as The Paper Trail (TPT). You can find more of Skye’s work on her Tumblr and her Instagram. Give Skye some love in the comments.

Always remember you are…

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Without any shoes, I carefully walk,

Each step I take a chance to be cut.

All around me, I can’t see every piece,

One is sure to find me if cautious I’m not.

Where are my shoes, why aren’t they on,?

A lot safer I’d be, less chance to be hurt.

There’s broken glass everywhere,

Watch the way you step and you’ll not be wounded.

Keith Garrett

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