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Can't Think.... So Writing Poems....

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Braedyn

New Here
WORTHLESS


The walls shine red

Her terror amounts

She hears his footsteps

and know her luck has run out…


Buried deep in her covers

She pretends to be asleep

She feels the pain,

But she will never scream.


She goes to school, putting on her fake smile

Whenever she is asked, everything is fine

And no one notices how horrific it is

When the lights go out in her house,

With the white picket fence.

When the light goes out, her nightmare begins…


Smile for the pictures!!

Acting FINE.

If anybody knew…


If only…

one person…

Would look in her eyes..

They would see a storm of emotions

That none of them could ever handle.

Perfect family. Pillars of the Community.

Who would believe…

Behind closed doors,

She will never be the same

She can’t take anymore…


She could run. She could flee,

Leaving her siblings behind,

But she feels so worthless

She takes it in stride


Given the chance she may run and hide?

Laughter fills the room.

She is doomed for life…

Blissful ignorance…they all turn their backs

On the person they “care about”

But she must keep the family secrets.

For the sake of everyone involved.

She is totally and utterly alone….

As he stabs her in the back...


Fake Smiles

And sometimes you were there for me

And other days I'd wish you'd leave

And when at night I'd go to bed

I'd be confused and wish you dead

I'd feel it was all my fault

I'd feel I was very small

I'd feel that I could not sleep

No privacy was mine to keep

I'd feel others were mine to help

Whatever price my cards were dealt

I'd feel I would have to share, strength and love when I was scared

And never, ever dare to show

Or ever let another know

That behind the smiles, behind the day

Lived a child whose nights were grey.

Braedyn
 
From Poems I walked in silence for many a year

I finally came to a Door and with trepidation clouding my open eyes opened it.

The horror I disclosed to myself within scared me to my soul!

Then I realised that I had to visualise abuse at its core.

My book will be published next year.

There are 42 chapters in my life book. Not a story as that would imply "Fiction"

"MY" book will contain nothing but the true horror of how a mother can slam her baby son in the face with a door so hard she scats him across the vacant room.

Silent eyes witnessed this abuse of me for many a year to come.

Now that I can see for myself the horror she subjected me to "I" can forgive.

Start at the earliest memory you can and remember there were good times a well as the bad. remember to just write what your heart tells you to but always remember that what you write is a fact. "It Happened"

With Love

Laurie71 xx xx
 
PS it took me 40 years to start writing about my painful years as a child. Now the words flow nearly as eloquently at your own. Be proud for the fact that you are "Not" a "sufferer but a "survivor". Finally release your inner soul to be the person "you" can be and "want to be".
 
The reality of eating disorders is not beautiful at all...


How did I let myself get this fat...
I have forgotten who I am...
It's getting harder to breathe..
She knew it was destroying her...
She never cried...
The eyes they never lie...
Silent tears...
His eyes were dead...
You know you are in a situation you can't control right?
Empty words...
Everything hurts...
I come from a family of divine liars...
She couldn't stand to live inside her own body...
Her heart was broken...
I whisper, make it go away...
A tidal wave of blackness broke over her head...
 
Masquerade:

I do not think you'll understand

Just who I was way back then,

And that's okay because you were you

And I was me that's okay too

And even though the house looked safe

No one really had a face

And children never dared to say

No I would really rather play

And problems hid behind the doors

They didn't matter anymore.

And outside was a masquerade.

A game we played to hide the pain.

And when at night we'd shut the door.

We knew the children lived no more.
 
I wake up,

I never sleep


I fill my lungs,

I never breathe


I move my lips,

I never speak


Broken pipes that never leak


I open my eyes,

I cannot see


I spire thoughts

I cannot teach

I drip in eighths

I cannot listen

Tortured souls that cannot glisten
 
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