I am not
My depression
A suicidal little girl
Looking for love
With misery’s face
I am me
I am beautiful
I am alive
Tag: writers
In the dark
Thoughts are spirals
Of chaos
–
Her personal twister
Traps her mind
Pirouetting through the air
–
Where will it land
–
Anywhere but OZ
–
For this dreaming girl
There is no magic
–
Flying monkeys
And witches
Would be a pleasure ride
–
She will not land
In the Emerald Isle
–
No, this Dorothy
Will not land at all
–
The twister has found
Its prize
To keep
Little by little
Battered and bruised
Elements of her body
Her soul
Disappearing
*
Taken and tortured
By Man’s greed
*
Gluttony and bloodshed
Seeping into her pores
Poisoning her
*
She lashes out
Inundated with tears
Wailing and quaking
The flames of her anger
Rage on
*
Man does not
Obey
Her decrees
Heed
Her roars
Her distemper propagates
*
Loss and starvation
Misery and death
Will consume man
*
Allowing her restoration
“What’s past is past”
“Forget the past”
“Leave the past behind”
Lies we tell ourselves
To get over love
Control our grief
Box our emotions
Forget
Forget
Forget
~
We cannot lobotomized
Our memories
Our pain
Our grief
We can only live with
Learn from
And never forget
Stuck on this plane
I cannot fly
My wings
Clipped by my mind
I writhe in pain
Try and try
Stuck on this plane
I cannot fly
Had a rope
Ready to sway
Stood and stared
Come what may
–
Chance encounter
Sign from above
Nothingness only
Felt no love
–
Stood on a stool
Ready to fly
When on my shoulder
Angel butterfly
–
Sadness and fear
Lifted from me
No longer felt
A need to be free
Misery has been
Such good company
The devil on my shoulder
Begging me to give in
We dance barefoot to a waltz
On a floor of glass and nails
Living with misery
We are now one
Where do you go when
Your mind is racing
Your thoughts are
Taking you to unfamiliar places.
–
Do you travel to
Distant places where
Reality doesn’t exist
Time and space are a myth
Or does your heart
Pulse with love,
And the once quiet yearning
Finally breaks loose
Does the anger
The sad regret
Seep from your pores
Allowing you to mourn
Where do you go
When you need
To be free…
There are so many of them.
Not schizophrenic,
Internal diversity.
Full of opinions,
Full of shit perhaps.
Sifting through
The baggage
The positive and negative
Words spoken
True or false
Compiling self,
Deleting self loathing
Building character
Finding a Voice
Speaking out loud…
BW©️
She wasn’t certain what demons would be waiting when she turned the corner. It was worse thank she feared. Stopped in her tracks she stood face to face with the only creature she was afraid of. Herself.
B.A. Wilcox © 