Past Days

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…

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