BrokenDoll
MyPTSD Pro
Thank you. I am working on shattering that statue forever.I totally can relate. This is quite excellent poetry....keep writing!
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Thank you. I am working on shattering that statue forever.I totally can relate. This is quite excellent poetry....keep writing!
Trying with poems
About this feels and that feels
Is like herding cats. :facepalm:
Got a few poems;
They all feature rock and wheels
The other grenades.
... writing b/c after a year of none I just won a bet.
I started off as only a seed that slowly grew.
A seed that grew from tiny, soaking up the sun, the rain.
I am but a tree, that almost didn't make it at the beginning.
I started from pushing up slowly from the earth, very humbly.
I was fighting the wind, almost not surviving.
And yet I continued as the seasons slowly changed.
My experience was painful, for I was alone without love and attention.
But there was growth and change, that hurt as I matured.
I would blosson in the spring, with no one to care for me, alone.
How my soul yearned for love, for total acceptance of myself.
Was I ugly, did I look right, no one gave me any instructions
On how to live, how to feel and adapt, my cries at night the only thing keeping me company.
Sometimes the wind battered me until my twigs almost snapped off.
My tears were alone along with my lone heartbeat.
My prayers for help and a miracle fell upon deaf ears.
Sapling grew to full size, an unimportant life except for myself.
Not one human ever looked upon me.
I did not know I had worth, my loneliness was my only friend.
Each day I longed to be noticed, for acknowledgement of my existence,
Only to be met with maddening silence.
The elements were the only thing to be counted upon, nothing else.
I grew used to myself, unsure of what to feel, other than the usual pain of being alone and lonely.
The tears cried left grooves on the bark.
My heart was forever broken, never to know of the reality of anything better.
Everyday of my life was spent waiting and still nothing changed.
All of my beautiful leaves had fallen,
And one morning I was no more, unnoticed, tilted, broken.
Ghosts ghosts ghosts
Roasted
Ghosts ??
No, toasting ghostings with marshmallows .....hovering around a flaming fire!Ghosts with barbecue
Sound to me better
Time than the picnic. (?) ;)
Thank you. I would call it "Tree". Thanks!This is amazing poetry from the heart. I can really feel your struggle, lonliness, and pain. It is hard to feel invisible....What might you title it?