Tag Archives: sad

Invincible

I still feel the throwing knives cut my Papier-Mache mind

As I create collages from the remains of my colorful memories.

Memories that have made me, but also eat away at my mind

Like camel crickets eating my clothes.

The holes almost unnoticeable unless you study me.

The bullets hit my beat-up armor bashing me,

The used ragdoll left in tatters,

Leaving black, blue, and green watercolor tattoos on my porcelain skin that only I can see

As I feel shame as a fragile doll, not the machine gun that I pretend to be.

The water fills my lungs as I continue surviving with five-second breaths,

As I pray for the black feather pillow softness of blackout,

But no, I am too stubborn to let go and ease into the darkness.

I’ve gotten too good at surviving, but not living.

Pushing the snowball up the mountain as it transforms into a lead boulder,

But still I don’t stop and give up,

Letting the boulder crush me, cracking my bones,

Smashing my rotten heart.

No, the blood in my veins pump

And my muscles cry out for relief that I won’t give.

My being deteriorates,

A zombie in disguise that won’t die.

No failure, no living, only surviving until nothing is left, but dust.

Such is life filled with pride.

Mr. Flubber

Mr. Flubber

You thought it was funny,

To rhyme my name of Glover,

Which I have a heritage with,

With a term to remind me

Why I can’t decide on what shirt to wear,

Why people grab my chest,

Why that girl smacked me on the backside,

And discuss what bra size I was,

Calling me Mr. Tiddies,

When I was only 10 years old,

When maybe the reason,

I was overweight

Has to do with the fact I wasn’t fed as a baby,

I didn’t find it funny,

I was just mentally,

Physically,

And spiritually wounded,

And why these marks on my stomach remind me

Of my messed up childhood.

Thank you,

No sarcasm,

Because you reminded me each day that I should not chew gum,

And that I should starve myself,

And that today I’m not fat with an “f”,

I’m phat with a “ph”.

Mr. Flubber

Take Me Home

I am 9 years old with long curly brown hair.
I am three foot tall, weighing next to nothing
With giant burnt brown eyes.
I’m on the playground sitting on the cross
Of the ship made of giant Lincoln logs
With a tearstained red blotchy face
And rosy nose snotty and swollen.
Take me home.

I am dull and unable to read or write,
But good at math though slow.
I was once happy friends with everyone,
Considered a positive “happy” girl,
Despite being stupid.

I am persecuted by adults and later children
Who were once my best friends.
I am an outcast among my peers, family;
Even those who should protect me, take turns stabbing with spears.

I smile in church,
Leading worship,
Singing “I am a flower quickly fading, Here today and gone tomorrow.”
If only… Take me home.

On the cross, I sit alone again
And all I have is you, God.
Please take me home. Continue reading Take Me Home

Forgive and Forget

Part 1: Forgive

You forgave the mother who
Birthed, traumatized and left me in fear
You forgave the best friend who
Spent years putting me down to make himself feel better
You forgave that girl on the bus who
Barely knew you but touched you without consent
You forgave that short blonde girl who
Broke your heart and kissed her crush in front of you
You forgave the drug dealer who
Threatened to assault you because of false accusations
You forgave the nerdy best friend who
Left you to be tormented by the other kids
You forgave the 7th-grade class who
Bullied you to the brink of antisocial isolation
You forgave the father who
Was barely around and used you as physical labor
You forgave all of these people

Or did you?
You spent years letting
The emotions tear away
You let the pain
Sit on your shoulders
You let the emotion bundle up inside like a butterfly
In a cocoon
It hatched
And flew away
Now the feeling is gone

You don’t care
Why forgive people
Who don’t deserve it?
If the body is numb
Is the mind numb?
Does the emotional trauma heal
Or does it get worse?
Time heals all wounds
But some wounds stain the mind
Fear’s trophy case
Does it really even matter anymore?

Hold the feelings in your hands
Let them slide between your fingers
Into the dark abyss
One lie at a time
One fear at a time
Watch it fall
And then let the tension
Drop like rain
One drop at a time
But enough to
Let the sun out
So you can see your shadow
Of who you were

Part 2: Forget

Breathe….1, 2, 3….
And like a gasp of air hold it in
And then let it out
Whoosh, let the emotion out
Like a summer breeze, it will calmly escape
And you’ll forget
Ignorant bliss
Memory does not stay in the mind
It flees
Because it doesn’t want to face the pain
You want to forget
You always did

Hazel Eyes

The touch, the feel,

The heat, the sweat.

A hand running along the hip,

Feeling of rose petal lips against the heart.

 

Dark, spiraled hair of ebony,

The golden-green hazel eyes framed so well.

The soft, pale pink lips,

Often mistaken for a cloud.

hazel-eyes
“Those hazel eyes see horror and pain.” Photo from: www.muscledudelife.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

Those hazel eyes see horror and pain.

Her pale lips are lowered.

These curls hide the face of a girl.

 

Those who passed her over,

Who didn’t bother to look beyond her skin,

Far too self-centered to see the damage,

Unable to see the women she would become.