Shattered Glass Life After Abuse

"Committed Suicide" Is how the death’s explained. Does suicide kill? Or should another be named? Where does it start? When death is what you see. Who is to be blamed? Who hung the crooked frame? Suicide results But not the real cause. Depression murders more Yet, no one knows her lore. It was this, it was that. He did, she did, they said. Where is the family? An unseen mystery. Looking for help, They lived invisible. There, but a shadow, An empty French chateau. Intoxicating drink, The thought of being free, Perverted justice, Innocence takes the fall. See her perishing, Remember her no more. Advancing in the ranks She never voiced complaints. Depression hides in smiles Worn upon the face Medicine for the soul Too thin, it left no trace. Depression kills. A sickness of the soul Continually, breaking down, A castle with no sound. The afflictions build The wounds scarless to view Distinctly took residence. Yet, selfishness ma...

This is an inside look at someone who is going through a dissociative state. The thoughts are scattered and you will see various internal conversations. I wrote this many years ago and found it today on my computer. Today, I am no longer dissociative but I am amazed at what I wrote. I titled it Wires On a Bomb so I will leave it that way. #mental illness #dissociative #did Here it is: so much wiring within It is unstable - I know. Jittery, moving about ever so slight but it does not need much to explode. Can I figure out which wires to remove before its too late? Do I dare to try? No matter what I do--except to enter a catatonic freeze--will increase the possibility, the odds of its blast. So what does one do? Twisted, fragile, so not wanting to be at this moment, this point in time, this crisis ---again, again and again. Seconds feel like hours, and hours prolong like days...especially if you pause, to pray or gain some kind of controllable ease. I speak...

Plink, plink the pill goes down again. Routine, patterns never broken. Chemist keepers served their purpose, Sentenced -when can I be woken? Happy chatter, silly - returns the child. Un-numbed, sedate constrained her nature. She lives within, waiting to come out, But, what form or person is the wager. Architecture holds her steel frame. Contorted by pain - intensely trained, By enterology she survives, Another day, steps ingrained. Hear me hurting - silence by design. So much easier to handle a mime. Perform charade, pleasing the crowd. Squeezing her life, repeating the crime. Back-bending to conform to others, Dishonors her spirit and soul, Year after year, held firmly restraint, Don't the chemicals take their tole? Who is at the helm, master in control, Sovereignty knows her schematics. Can she ever from elements by free? Post-traumatic Hippocratics.