Poetry Project # 16
When I sit and think of days
that I try to forget,
My mind go through this awful phase
that sets my eyes on wet.
My eyes leak tears made of salt
and makes my make-up run;
I begin to think it was all my fault
and never should have come.
This pain that’s set upon my heart
is heavier than death;
This life I hate but I’ll never part
–I’m hooked like it were meth.
I’ve contemplated suicide
many times before.
And there are times I wish I’d died
Because I feel like such a whore.
Once I realize where I’ve been
I know what must be done.
This life I live, my greatest sin
I now must overcome.
November 8, 2000 (age 16)
The years between ages 14/18, were difficult for me. I tried desperately to learn how to deal with everything “I had allowed” my step dad to do to me. I felt like I had torn my family apart, like I had ruined everything for everyone. I felt like I had done something to provoke him to commit the actions he had done. To this day I still find myself trying to downplay what had happened as if I’m trying to share the blame. I knew this was wrong. I knew this was not the correct line of thinking but the only way to prove that to myself was to analyze the things I kept hidden away. I couldn’t go to that place without feeling guilt, shame, anger, loneliness and complete and utter regret with a heavy accent of remorse. No matter how much wishing I do I cannot alter the memories and ultimately the past. I’m twice as old now as I was when I wrote this poem and that dark room that holds the pieces of me I wish never existed still holds more than an echo of all I associate with those times. That door has since been forced open, the light’s doused the room and I saw the mess of my past, my childhood; I saw the trail of destruction that followed me to my present day….and I’m still picking up the fucking pieces…