Shattered Glass Life After Abuse

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 ...