Recasting (looking back and working things out)
Always alone, my emotions dismissed, dissed, disinterest, fitted
Into a shape that was defined for me without my inclusion.
Body and mind moved by the ebbs of her mood
That pushed and pulled and missed me; but it never really mattered, did it?
Continue reading “Recasting – a poem”
Defiance was written when I started responding to bullies and gaslighters and I fought the narrative defined for me to follow
Instructions carved in rocks, I hold them against me.
The rules we brought down from the hill, burning and shouting.
Someone there said they were right, and when they were gone from sight
We knew we held a treasure; our future assured.
Continue reading “Defiance – a poem”
With each new meeting, a piece more of me is revealed
And removed to be recast. They say it’s important .
As it’s borne away I watch it leave, I grieve, silent; I wait.
It’s worked, formed, set aside to prove and conform.
Continue reading “Abuse – a poem”
The existence of the crowd around me as I resist the loudness and sound. My endocrine
glands leak panic, my face glitters and is frantic, and my flesh displays outward pleasure, manic
“Pleased to see you, it’s been too long!” – I air-kiss and grasp arms and wish myself away
as I stay, and my talk is small and empty and so is theirs, my feet hurt and my drink is empty
Continue reading “Work Party – a poem”
In Relation to us
I would not take the cup from times’ hand that would lead me back to my past
So that I may choose again, choose the path leading from strife and pain
That for moments in my time made me insane; overall, I gained.
Continue reading “In relation to us – a poem”
Money and Power, power and money, is a cycle that the self absorbed
And obsessed like you who weave that narrative around your life. You lie
so naturally you are believed for why would someone so full of the will to succeed
need to lie? It’s all a lie and a cycle of lies proceed you.
Continue reading “You Failed – a poem”
I have run out of shits to give to people who demand from me
That which they don’t stand for to enrich themselves.
Grasping cold straws to fill the void of cold life, they stand
For control over my body my life, my choice, which does
Not fill them with anything other than bitterness.
Continue reading “Taking – a poem”