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Have you ever wondered
What it's like to live a life that's been plundered
Body and emotions *****
What kind of monstrous life it shaped

Let me tell you a story
I apologize now, it maybe a little gory
It's about a little girls life
How she was forced to walk on the edge of the knife

The sadness started at her birth
At this event there was no mirth
Before her a brother at 4 months had died
She was not born a boy so her mother cried
But she was the apple of her Dad's eye

So for the next 7 years
Her world was full of cheer
Except for her mother's geers

There was mud pies
Sunny sky's
Bicycle rides
Slip and slides
Camping trips
Potato chips
Fishing poles
Daddy's hand to hold
Big sisters kisses
Mother's suppers delicious

Then came the split
Her heart was ripped

A dad rarely seen
A mother that was mean
Then came the step dad, what he did was obscene

A mom never knowing
Around the girl the darkness was growing
The keys on his belt jingled down the hall
He was coming to call
Under the covers the girl of 8 cowered
For he held all the power

Step dad beat the girl's mom all the time
He threatened the child, "tell no one, I claim you as mine"
She told not a soul, not even her Dad
She was afraid step dad would hurt him bad
Besides a new family with a new baby boy her Dad had

So she suffered in silence till the age of 14
When thinking back on what her years had gleaned
For her dad had recently passed away
It made her heart cave
She made a trip to the cemetery laid down on his grave
Took a handful of sleeping pills, death she craved
To her disappointment around noon the next day she woke up
Trudged back home, knowing she would have to drink the wrath from her mother's cup

Fast forward a few years
There was still plenty of tears
The sins of a mother is like no other
On the little girl they covered and smothered
The little girl knowing only pain as love
The girl married a man that beat and shoved

After four kids of her own, 3 daughters and a son
She found the key to her rusty cage and made a run
She was bound and determined thier childhood would be full of fun

For man's wicked way she had been shown
So for 13 years her and her kids lived all alone
She tried her hardest to protect them from the monsters
Only family was let close enough to love and foster

She didn't realize her mother had married ANOTHER *******
The little girl's  SON'S soul was tossed into the fire
Though she questioned her children all the time, the results was the same
Her son suffered in silence and shame
Even though the little girl didn't know, she was mom and she was to blame
All of her love couldn't heal her sons pain

The years ticked by
She lived under the darkest of skies
Her son's anger grew
He's words created scars that where new
Along with the constant every two year visits of the abusive alcoholic she had once been chained to

That girl decided her kids where grown and with her life she was through
Swallowed two bottles of pills
Praying it would cure all her ills
She went behind the veil to the dark quite abyss
Her children would be all she missed
Much to her chagrin
Those doctors brought her back to life again

Fast forward just two more years
There would be new founded fears
That abusive alcoholic made another visit, dragged her to the woods
***** her in the worst way he could
He left her miles from nowhere, bruised and bartered
More holes in her soul, ripped and tattered

That was a year ago
The darkness from it all still grows
She struggles every day
As she tries to keep the demons and darkness at bay
For her thoughts heavily weigh
When she thinks back on her life in decay

Are you wondering what happened to that little girl lost
How she lives on still paying the cost

Well you see
That Little girl is me

I'm still all alone
In my bedroom at home
That is where I cry
Screaming at a non existing God why
Why, I was only given a few happy years
With agony the rest was filled
Not understanding why I was spit out of deaths mouth, just to be ***** again
Tell me God, at the age of 8 what was my sin
Why was I condemned
Never to see blue skies again
My heart I hold in my hands,
I cup it and hide it,
Only very few can see

Occasionally I give someone a piece
The first one left it on the ground,
It took up to much space for someone else's,
Tunes our he did the same to her

The second one I handed out,
Hoping not to be buned
She amounted quite a mass
Before she spoiled and threw it all in the trash

Now I had very little heart lef to give.
But a third came along, different from the rest,
Baffled a small loan was made
I went bankrupt.

So one came around
I hadn't hardly a heart to give
The chunk I did,
Was squeezed so tight
That it
Died.

So then you came back.
Lucky number three,
My last chunk of love is in your hands,
But it seems you let it fall

My love casted upon the ground
I fall to my knees,
As my heart crumbles into dust,
A chrimson stain upon the ground
I am broken

My heart in pieces
Pulled apart and broken down
I now so lie,
Heartless
To numb
To ask why
As my heart whimpers in the dark
are some things I have wanted to say.
Stories I've wanted to tell

I wanted to tell you how the moon, on that special lunar occasion,
How it is red not because of the blood moon,
Rather because it is the reflection of a thousand sunsets all on one canvas.

Or I could tell you about that old lady I saw on the street the other day

How the wrinkles on her ***** hands matched that on her torn shirt.
How those wrinkles looked like waving rows of wheat to the bread she'll never eat

I could talk about the sunset!
Oh the sunset!
How the last ray of sun light is like that of the love of an old man who watched his wife of fifty years fall from cancer.
How even though his light is gone, he can still see her image refracted on the horizon, as if one last kiss to the world

I could talk about the young girl down the block,
The one who people call "fake" because she covers her face in foundation,
The same face her boyfriend left bruised and swollen.

I can talk about the girl I saw on my walk today.
The one who flinched every time her father raised his hand,
The one that wasn't holding his beer of course.

I could talk about sunsets.
I could talk about the beauty of the moon.
I could talk about a lot of things.

I could talk about poverty
I could talk about abuse or ****
I could talk about a lot of things

Society dictates that I should talk about the good things
I should talk about the sunset, and the butterflies
Oh! The butterflies!

Society is a lot like a butterfly
Its beautiful,
Free,
Alive

But society has heavy problems

Ones that "can't be talked about"

The weight of these problems will rip the wings from a butterfly.
Leaving it to fall to the Earth

Earth, where it will be forgotten
It will be stamped upon
It will be ignored

Until one day it dies
Until it's suddenly a tragedy,

What a pity-Oh look! A celebrity!
the only way out
is within

©2016janetaylor
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.
The soundtrack to life deserves the most wicked of baselines.
.
It's the finality of it all that propels me to run away,
and in my distraught cowardice I ponder,
just how many masks must I wear,
to masquerade my hatred, to hide my tears, to disguise all the fear?

Angels, and Demons lie in and around every thought,
and in my wrath, denial, and loathing,
I chase them away with the ferocity of a demon
rampant within a fog of ****** induced madness,

and yet that demon which remains; knows just the right words.

Her venomous static pierces the softest remnants of my heart,
the mask cracks, and my hatred erupts like knives, razors, and ropes tied in nooses;

I want to **** your daughter in front of your eyes,
I want to ****** everyone you love; while you watch in agony,
I ******* despise you.. humanity is filth, a virus, and a ******* disease.

I pour gasoline on my own humanity, and watch god's crinkled face
as I scrape a razor across my skin just to spite his entire ******* existence,
just - to - spite - my - own - existence..

I slowly burn it all away, burn away all that matters, and all that I love..

I ******* hate it all!
I want to destroy it all!
I want to consume it all!
I want it all to end in a fiery blaze!

I want humanity to writhe in the same diseased agony that engulfs my heart
piercing it like millions of red hot razor blades..

I want to destroy every last bit of compassion,
every last bit of purity left in humanities already blackened hearts,
and as I watch as it all crumbles to the ground in it's insignificance,

I can only laugh.
Remember this is just a poem, a means of expression. If you feel it violates the sites terms feel free to report it. This poem in no way represents any intended actions on my part. It is merely poetic self expression. Thanks
The minutes are feeling much more like hours
Caught in the midst of all these May showers
In the shattered memory my heart will surely drown
No place to find reprieve and the only way is down
Been taking a break but I came up with this short piece
I pick dandelions
in the early spring
when I think of you
She loves me . . .

I cut the rose blooms
in the summer morn
And I am pricked
by the remembrance of you

I walk in the autumn gold
as I shuffle with the agony
of the memory
Yes I do

Now in my winter's demise
I wrap the cloth of your smile
around the cold heart's desire
that I once had for you

There will be no dandelions
this spring
No roses this summer
No leaves of autumn's color
Without the smile of you
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