Shattered Glass Life After Abuse

Cubist collage attacked, Expectation failed, Sum of destruction seems Real world looks un-nailed. By Mushroombrain on deviantART Not going far enough, Broke the fruit dish, Cannot glue together --You Missed what Cezanne wished. Assault the painting within, Abandon the medium. Ready-made objects Don't equate the sum. Independent artist Show provocative ways, Blurring boundaries in Degradation displays. Set the stage for deskilled, Experimental progeny. Vandalize a painting -- Is What some want to see. Paint splattered and poured On trash encrusted surface. Ghostly traces in gilded frames Brings tyranny of purchase. Artist choose what art is. Can destruction be vandalism? Pathological passion - It Depends on your prism.

I held your hand, Dreams upon your face. We danced slow songs Heart beats of grace. dance by melodyofleeloo on deviant art I led my love Never been kissed. Chose purity, Nothing been missed. I fit the plan, Not left to fate. Prayers had been said. God bring my mate. I was the one, A dream come true. Each piece in place, Up to "I do". I felt the pain, Shame hid in me. You believed more Than I could see. I failed at life, You would succeed. Can't hold you back I now concede. I never brought To you a ring. He is the one- Now you can sing. I'm looking down, Dreams upon your face. Joy fills my heart, You found your place. I let you go, You deserved more. In His embrace, I leave the shore.

by myxchimcalxkiss on deviantART A sharp edge Thought to numb The pain too deep To heal away. A sharp edge Brought to mind, Cut the memory- Blood covers. A sharp edge Pierced His side He took your sin Upon Him. A sharp edge For a moment Pause the cycle, The burden. A sharp edge Does not solve The real problem, Hurting shame. A sharp edge Words spoken, The Gilead Balm heals all. If you think about using a sharp edge to cut yourself to stop the pain, stop. A sharp edge against your skin is not the help you need. You are priceless, precious, and your life was created for a purpose. You can know happiness.

Mama, naturally. A child loves his mom, connected as one from conception in her womb. by bailey--elizabeth on deviantART Birth pangs, naturally, Discorded at birth, No pulsing between, Empathetic Or flatline. Children, naturally, Completely depend On mama for needs, Hopefully A bond builds. Parents, naturally, Are beloved, it's said. The childhood window Closes quickly. Locus food. Regrets, naturally, Eat away her peace. Could have been's haunt. A mother's heart Never stops. Loving, hoping, trying. Even unrequited. Her longing remains, For her child's love Until she dies.

by Isikol on devientart, boris tribute My flesh, my muscles and my bones, I flex and lift my bronzing tones, I once was skinny, dust and dirt, Now I'm built, I hold the earth. Nothing easy comes to me, Grovel, work, I can not flee. Words haunt, howl, from my past, Blows in frozen, bred to last. By my brow and pumping grit I resolve, no more, I spit, Cradle to my bed alone Four walls free me from that home. Choose I must now - how I live, Running springs no longer give, Dig my own well, for my thirst, Raging feelings, out I curse. Cut the strings that held me down Dangling offers - sins abound. Taste the apple from the tree, Rotten to the core, I see. Pleasures, crutches, hold me back, Mirrors glaring, what I lack, Smoke defuses, nothings clear, But the song of panting deer. Brawn and might can get me far, Still I'm crawling on the floor. Willed erect now, full of pride. Satan lurled me, 'course, he lied. My redeemer, sees my core, ...

Said I to God, "Love me, Pour down your showers from heaven. Release your geysers from earth. Surround Me in Your presence. Let me float weightless in You, Absorbing goodness into every crevices' That I might be saturated, That my thirst would be quenched, That I would never need another." And God so willingly poured out His love on me, Little me - to the world I am so minor, Just a one in a crowd of millions- even more, A grain of sand upon which the ocean roar, A particle of dust--clothed away- unwanted. But to God I am His everything, A priceless daughter of the King. My heart bursts forth with exuberant, To know, He joys, that I exist. A gift - a gift - I am to Him And He to me - far greater. To love as He - I can not measure Nor ever - though try, I might - to do Like the river He pours out for me and you. Oh, ask Him, try and you will see You will know for yourself - His love - as He has for me.

by maticgolog on deviantART Several forms of Trauma Therapy use visionary training to heal the brain naturally. These are not dark forces or drama but organic abilities all humans are born with. As creativity and imagination are decreased in the advancement of age and school-tutelage, so has the innate ability, the part of the natural man has been hushed within a person. This erasing is so indelible that most people profess to lack and never to have had the ability to heal from within. Our senses are keenest when we are untaught by the refinement of institutions and scholar-wise establishments. Thus, natural learning is the best tool for inner growth, healing and advancement. This does not mean that a person cannot learn from another. Of course, we learn from each other and those who words are printed over centuries -- saved -- for those who come later into the world that must uncover, realize ... see in every sense of that ability. Cherished fictional stories hold the truth t...

by katiepox on DevianArt Dead leaves float low. First frost is mean. The dragonfly is here and gone In one day. Creation never stays Each - in due time - Makes its way To its continued purpose. We act, all day, Narrowly we play, Like Forever we will be. Yet coffins float upon the sea.

Running water bubbles over plastic rocks. I close my eyes to drift elsewhere. Crows caw, woodpeckers peck, Insects rattle a hiss. Bee buzzes, close chasing another--gone. Late summer breeze brushes my face. Cares ease, but do not cease--timeworn. Berry Bush Bird by Endmon at DeviantArt Tapping keys, so effortlessly, Letting thoughts roll, Flowing where they want to go. Noisy little hidden insects Make themselves known, Rhythmic shaking in harmony. Soft, then loud, they say, "I am here, one more day." Focusing back to the running water, My lungs inhale deep-- a cleansing breathe, A moment alone but not at all quiet, No human voice, still sounds grow. What a filling for my ear. This summer day there is no pause. Yet my soul reflects -- no fears. Faith makes one bold with cause. Drawing in another deep breathe, Six legged bug, wings up hobbles Full of effort cross the table, Then stops to regain strength. Do I hobble two arms, two legged, No...

All My Own is a poem about dealing with wanting something for yourself when you have been deprived of so much. Asserting your needs, expressing your wants, are things that are normal human actions but after extreme neglect and abuse these supposedly simple times can be perplexing, emotionally draining and regardless of the end result you are left exhausted... so often are also the people in your life. By Narcoleptik on deviantART Guilt Crowds My Company. Selfish One wants all her own. Let me have it. Do not touch. Taking care of it. Eat my lunch. Isolated - stands alone. All forlorn, but she’s grown. It will burn in the end. Stubble and hay, they pretend. Let me have it. Do not take. Wanting some of it. Have some cake. Feelings hurt for a thing. Words just spent, left a sting. Babbled sounds were not heard. Growing anger is a verb. Let me have it. Do not leave. Biting upper lip. Watch it bleed. Never can some ...

I am trying to clean my room today ... the piles on the floor... surrounding my bed. Piles are in other places but today I turned my focus to my bedroom and there I found a problem. I have been doing extremely well lately at accomplishing tasks... beginning, working through them and completing! What a new delight. But today I am tugging through the mud of paper goods. I see bits and pieces of my life... my thoughts like scribbles here and there. My mind is over active. Words keep pouring out and on the pages I find... typed beginnings of books, of articles, of journeys I have been compelled to begin... I notice a pattern of a lot of incompletions. My mind buzzes with new thoughts, ideas, impulses. While I start off running, rapidly getting done or said what I feel at that moment to be monumental, I observe life cuts in and "it" is lost. Darwin went to an island to write. So did John to write Revelation, the final book of the Bible. I have a writer's m...

I am trying to speak, to explain, but I am incapable of being heard. I am speaking clearly in my head, but what comes out is mumbled. I want to be heard, to be understood, to be empathized, But others can't comprehend or even barely listen to what is uttered. It is too hard to listen to, dragging them deep where they do not want to go. Pretty little house, cute little family. We go to church. We serve. Love the Lord. Raise our kids. You are weird, complicated, too hard to be a friend. I don't need that in my life. I have a ministry and enough to do. Help me find a way to end this conversation. Help me get away. I will never speak to her again. I will be quiet. I will pretend to listen, But I am not. I have already moved on. Sticky people are more trouble than they are worth. What is that you said? You couldn't possibly. Are you serious? How could you think that? I am trying to learn to not speak ... at least to certain people... but truly in most. Smi...

Tears are filling up my eyes, It's been awhile since I've cried. The warmth of salty fluid flows, From the pain within my soul. Broken dreams of love we hold, Choosing sin -its goods are sold. See me crying in the night, A cold dark chamber blurs my sight. Stripped of envy and disgrace, He walked into the wicked place. Making choices everyday, Is how the game of life is played. See the sucker at the bar, See the midnight falling star. Twinkle, twinkle lost its light, Darkness flexed his muscles' might. Lucifer laughs when we cry, He taunts the sinner til he wants to die. God send Angels to my son, Protect him til fool's hill is done. Dazzling worldly wanton ways Entices many foolish slaves. Freedom to live by your grace. Answer his call when he prays. Draw him to Your perfect peace, Humble crying on his knees. Mama loves him evermore, Forever sings the childhood lore.

Reading about Rick Warren's son's suicide "hit home" and made me think about a lot of things , therefore, I had to write. I am a survivor! I have been one since early childhood. I had to be or I would already be dead. I grew up in an abusive home and daily survived, escaping the hands of death, evil committed against the children by my father. I didn't understand why... why was I living? why was I allowed to go through all the abuse? why didn't I have good parents, parents who loved me? why did I not get to be a little girl? why was life so hard for me? why could I never get a break? why did no one help me? why did every time I seemed to get ahead something would fall apart? why was the government not able to stop my father? why would he not die? why did my mother allow it? why did she not leave? why did no one stand up to him? why did every adult pretend nothing was happening? why did everyone forget, pretending nothing happen? why ...

This is an edgy poem. I was thinking about how through my life relationships have been hard. In my rawness and brokeness I have scared many "good" people away. Knowing someone who has lived a hard life - can 'in it self' have times that are very "up hill" to work through. You don't always get what you want or what you expect and many times the odd conversations or moments are never reviewed because when they are done, once they have happen, they are gone. This is awkward for most people - they don't know how to handle and accept the unexpected. I don't view myself broken, but more like a stained glassed window made of pieces of my life because of the pain I lived through. I see life through a stained glass pain, I'm not insane, it's just my view. From birth to the hell I was spurned, Tried by the day, no one had a clue. Turn up the flame, Lead in the fire, Broken glass is plain Piece it in the frame. Walked the night in...

She listens to them Handle the plans. Never asked her thoughts, She gives nothing. Needs are expressed; She is overlooked. What possibly could she do To help others? "Pick me," she longs, Wanting to offer. But dares not-- Too many rejections linger. To God she prays, He could suggest, If He wants. He would speak her name. In sadness she sits, longing to partake. Though she's never noticed, By those who cast the roles. She waits trusting, Her time will come. She will be allowed To be all that she can be. At least, that is the story So often told. To those who wait, His timing is perfect. To Him she clings. Hoping one day soon, Her time will join His And she will be set free. To LIVE, her life, to give-- for Him.

She had an old face, It told of a life hard lived. Still she smiled And shared the joy of doing. She had a young age, Her face told another story. The days had been more Condensed in time. The earth rotated on its axis, But her life spun out of control. The sun rose and set, Tragedy exploded the limits. Her children witnessed her decay, But now she claims no signs. Her form betrays, Her version of the story. Each shriveled dry wrinkle, Holds the volumes unsaid. She believes in the victory. God sees her as a beauty. Can her words portray truth? Does her body tell a lie? The regeneration of the soul Can it be reflected in the skin? Her eyes dart around. Struggling to focus. She is so busy everyday, Hours filled can be deceptive. She talks of prayer, She does so much, She knows the Word. Hollowness surrounds her being. Does she project the image? Spirit-filled - so her story goes. The connecting lines are crossed. Did they slip off the sourc...

Have you ever meet with a group of people but realized you were invisible? No one came to hear or talk to you. The agenda of the hearts had another purpose. You tried to belong, to join in, but your words were not valued or wanted. Did you wonder why? This poem is for anyone who has had such an experience and for those who want to step in others shoes. She sits at a table and talks, Ignored. She shares her life journey, Cutoff. Did you tell him blah blah blah? He needs to know blah blah blah. Eyes turn back to her Not there. The "other she" pretended to listen. Don't tell him to blah blah blah. He needs to just blah blah blah. She spoke her memories, Unheard. She exposed her life events, By gone. It is nice to met blah blah blah Let's pray blah blah blah. She stood to say goodbye, alone. She reached to give a hug, unloved. See you soon blah blah blah. Enjoyed meeting you both blah blah blah. She walked toward the door. Empty. Sh...

Being a survivor of child abuse doesn't seem to ever end in "she lived happily ever after again." I have made so much progress, but on days that I dip - frankly, I hate it: disassociation. The past few days I have felt like I was in my body but another person was controlling me - Miss. Edgy Depresso! I tried to hide in my bedroom because I didn't want to snap at anyone. I knew I was plunging; a few days ago I had my girlfriend pray for me. I know when things are not right; I feel it all over my body: heart races or pounds, blood vessels bulge in my hands, my arms feel like someone has punched them, and I am irritable. Yet, the worst symptom is feeling trapped inside my body and the mood--unable to snap out of it. All I can do is keep "bubble wrap" around me and try to lower any pressure or stimulus so I wont pop. I pass mirrors and see such a sad face; a shell; a flat affect - zombie lady. Where did I go? If this never happens to you, feel ble...

Alone - something that we never are,  but so often "alone" feels true. God says, "I will never leave you or forsake you," therefore, in reality I am NEVER alone. But ... But... We all have our own answers to what comes after that word. Sometimes when I feel as though I am trapped, stuck, can't get out...that I am alone. I want to adventure, I want to be with people who want to be with me, I want to see what is out there. But... Again, I am stopped. I have an exception. I have a pinnacle turning point that is specific to me. Forgery, formed of flesh and filled with my being. Yet I am floating in a quasi-plane of knowing. Dipped, spiraled, tumbled. Until I land in the cell, door slammed, key turned. Locked away--my penalty for surviving. Existing in the midst like a mirage, Any moment, the pendulum swings. Parallel worlds, simultaneously misunderstood. Strong, yet fragile. Brave, yet broken. Passioned, yet deflated. How do so ...

Sometimes we say, "my heart hurts," and we mean that we are in emotional pain. Of course that pain is very real, but I have had medication adjustments in the past few weeks and my physical heart is pounding differently. I feel it race some times; other times it just beats harder. I am not worried; I am confident my body will start working properly soon. (a few weeks - I hope not longer). Still it is uncomfortable, and I try to steady myself - to go a little slow, to not do things that might agitate me emotionally. It is hard to watch yourself so much, to be careful, to keep a buffer around you so that you don't get poked or tipped by others. It takes work, mental-emotional, and that can eventually be physically tiring. I simply want an easy life, simple days, happy times. Does anyone get that? Or is that a fantasy? I still believe that someone must, but those people probably don't care about others. They isolate themselves. They don't listen to the...

These words-this poem- came today because it has been a hard day, frustrating. A day when I keep blundering and still I never give up. All I know is to step in the presence of God and allow Him to fill me up every time I am bumped into and spilt over. An exercise in humility and grace. Type, Delete, Repeat Is the rhythm of my day. Gutting all I need, Makes me have to stay. Floodgates opening, Wear the dam away. Missing all I need, Help me Lord to pray. Million Chances- False start tries Feel the glances. Adrenaline slides. Go, Slushing, Relief Is the volume in my mind. Fighting to believe Keeps me close in time. Exhaust, Repenting Do you still see me? Taking all I need, From Your hand receive. Millions Chances- Lost in Gambles Move, E-vances Humbled pile of clay. Off the ledge I fall Into Your embrace. Trusting all I need, Supply me Thy GRACE! And I type, delete, repeat, Every step I take, Still I'm forwarding, Forwarding, I Sent Me. ...

Motherhood is a blessing - a gift from God, but it is also a very difficult job - particularly for woman who are adult survivors of child abuse. Great thoughts don't always become great reality. Often what I see in my head as being something sweet, meaningful and appropriate crumbs into a struggle, hurt feelings, offenses and never-gonna-happens. I can not tell you how many times this scenario has repeated that past 20 years. It still never gets easy to be part of this two-step dance that is more like a tug-of-wills. A heart slashing - never what it was intended to be - occurs. This poem was birthed out of such a time as this. Phone is ringing in my ears, My heart pounds, message clear. Why are people not listening, To the words - what they mean. I try talking to my child, It'll be good, I decide. But it blows up in my face Homemade cocktail Burns the place. I only longed to talk it out, Think about, what was said, I listened to the voice I heard Sympa...

Sometimes what stirs in the mind and soul spills out in a way that feels more like broken pieces found after a storm rips through a town. I am learning that allowing the free associations to come lightens the load I carry that can't find its place to compartmentalize. Humans need means to let go. Writing Poetry is my way. It isn't a picture of my current state of mind, but simply a dance of words, and expression of madness that is healthy, not harmful. Words released in wild display somehow is freeing and brings happiness. Sometimes I think we need to stop trying to explain. Hope is always found in knowing God and being in His presence. I listened to the thoughts in my head And noticed I was drifting. Seated behind the wheel of a car My soul watched me moving away. Is it because I am tired? Or am I coming unglued? I don't know, can't tell. Just familiar - what I used to do. Dissociation comes. Even when it isn't called. It shows up on it own. ...

I wrote this to be lyrics to a song... but I am not a musician. I don't write tunes, musics, etc. If someone can write a song for these words I would be so grateful. It is about a daughter abused by a father losing her mother because the mother chose to be with the father and give up her relationship with her daughter, but I could also see it from the eyes of a child of divorce going through a similar situation. I'm all grown up Still I bleed the wounds of a little child. I walk so brave, Trapped in the realities of could've beens. You choose him, Don't ever try to reach me again. Mom spoke to me, I offered the love of her little child. But she drift away, Fear called her back into his cave. You choose him, Don't ever try to reach me again. I close my eyes Trying to erase all that was done. I can not sleep, Torturous dreams sweep through my mind. You choose him, Don't ever try to reach me again. The bridge is gone, There is no ...

Tin gling fin ger tips  a  sig nal Ex tra sen sory in per cep tion. Ant sy for me, cob web think ing-- Map ping  across,  con necting  the dots  When the sky dims-- beams blare and blind. Sole slips up and down, rocking to no sound. Muf fled words rat tle on un turned. Bold O pin ions as sert ed as facts blurred. Gol den rings domed by ce les tial blues-- Calm my soul--peace re sides-- a day is done. Wor shipping  wa ter col ored dis plays, You are faith ful and true , see me through! Why do I doubt and won der -will I sur vive ? Eyes rise, be hold the white glow in the sky And a star or two looking down at me from You. Lindy Abbott

Incubator walls enclose my soul, Plexiglas plates seal off life. Windows to peer out. Others peer in, Passing, Running, Ignoring-- They never seem to notice. Hands pounding invisible bars Green grass growing outside Lives among the trees. Animals roam free. The world turns on its pole. I'm in my zone-- Shut out - closed in. No one heard my sounds. Breathing slowly Dying day by day. Shut out, closed in. Living a Charade. In the echo chamber, I howl cell to cell. Everyone is learning to play Life's game so well. Don't talk, drop it, seal tight the tomb. Mausoleum dwelling is where I am schooled And she doesn't make a sound. Haven't heard from her lately. Didn't see her in the silence. She was too exposed. Shiny Glass Reflection Viewing Xray smudges Everything is so visible In the glare of sunlight. Cut off, Keep Quiet. Why Can't she learn shame? Don't respond again. Maybe she'll go away. Ignore, star...

Not every time can we know what some needs, We think it is just another normal day,  It may be for us, but not for another, So we tread on, as any other would, Seeing no need for extra sensitivity For people that surround us commonly In a happy home the memories and the sounds We can't see the shades shifting into grays Because to us they still seem like blues, How simple a task it is to ask for  Permission to unfold our music on hold But what gift we can give to the other side If only we could see how our activity  Lived out in the mind and soul as another comes unglued. Didn't mean to beat her, didn't mean to kick her with my shoe, Throwing water into her face, I truly tripped into the space. Don't you worry child, she was there for you, Don't you worry child, It isn't what you do, Clear tear drips in place, doesn't even come from grace, She wanted so much more but couldn't hold it together She hea...

Twirling gyro taught us to be still. Jumping lady strikes us in her snare. Pin-cushioned targets --very small Hyper-hearing timbre in the air. Mallet beaten formed in shiny chrome, Bruises shape her-- lost in human zeal. Ignored before, now more, crushing her heart. Clinging to the promise, I will kneel. Bobbing thimble, wounding wound it goes, Threaded needle wearing 'til it split. How thick the tan bleed and stained, That bared each lick and built her grit! Linen, cotton, lacy ruffle, see the frill. Leather, rivet, painful strikes the metal.  Filled with fiber, darned the broken hole. Smell the fragrance of the crushed the petal. Stitches form seams, rippers expose. Every error transposed what was done, Gluing hides the unseemly dark profile. Giving up life, before she had begun. Her rose lips meet with a toxic grail. The foam so subtle, so smooth, simply flows. Ingested-- clinks the cast foot pedal, Running ove...

High-speed velocity zigzag trackin' -- Tripping over every thought and sensation, Not high, not low, running, ribbing, non-stop go. Help me not crash, or detonate - I need to isolate. Input maxed, output floods - unplugged but full of juice. The source can't be turned off; the value is unknown. Seek the Maker. Who damaged His perfect plans? In an instant He can solve, thou He wills to let alone. Limiting contact prevents potential flares Pyromanic left too many ignitable tissues Flammable matters not contained in an atom Cells hold eighteen-plus revolving issues. Desensitize charges ground into earth. Pressurized molecules search for their balance. Slinging atoms splitting into to nanos. Science pines the mysterious challenge. Would they profess the same value or import, On the splitting minds of human beings? To help a soul recover from child abuse, To Wear flip-flops and go a mile sightseeing. Cherished theories chased for accolade, Are no co...

Opposites are the Same Do you see my smile? A tear roll down my face. Two emotions collide to be one. Seasons change but stay the same. If I crawl, will you stand If I try, will you hold my hand? Stay by me, See me through this fall I don't like the RED, wipe it away The hot makes me cold in the soul. Do you see me cry? A curve shapes on my lips. Opposites are one of the same, Both are needed or nothings gained. If I stumble, will you lift If I stop, will you wait for me? Stay by me, See me die to live I don't like the RED, it cuts so deep Gushing inside they say she never bleeds.