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K Dupasquier Feb 2020
For so long, I was alone
A mere ghost of myself
I almost forgot what it felt like
Having a healthy support system

No more a vine of roses
To catch you when you stumble
Blood dripping down your hands
From the thorns you didn't see

Instead a soft caress of feathers
A downy cushion to my delicate surrender,
When I'm down on my knees,
Shattered by injustice,
And I can't get up.

There you are,
Reaching out your hand
Pulling me up to stand
Beside you

Teaching me it's safe to trust you
With soft hands
That have a cashmere touch

No more a mere ghost
Spirit grounded by serenity
Aura blooming with enthusiasm for life

Come experience me, baby.
K Dupasquier Aug 2019
There I was
You rescued me from my broken home.
How was I to know you'd leave me
More damaged and alone
Than ever before

You lured me
With your sweet words
Kind eyes
So many promises

I was so naive

It felt so good
Your strength surrounding me
Arms like iron bars
Protecting and sheltering
Holding me back

Oh baby, why you love me so good?
You treat me so right
The best there's ever been
Hold me close, wipe my tears
Hold me close, assuage my fears
Hold me close
Hold me back
Oh baby, why you love me so good?

Golden haired Protector
The illusion of a halo
With the strength to move mountains

Sweet beyond words
Wrapping me in love
Surrounded by your essence

Prisoner in my own home
Hit me
Tease me
Please me.
Baby, why you love me so good?

Prisoner in my own home
Baby, why you love me so good?

An angel appeared to me
Picked me up off my knees
Sweet, naive girl.
What are you doing?
This isn't love

If you don't escape
He will **** you
I don't want to bury you
I can't do this for you

So I learned to love myself

Baby, I love you
Don't leave me
It'll never happen again
I swear.

Your words mean nothing to me now
Love is expressed through actions
Prove to me you love me
By letting me go

Oh baby, why you love me so good?

Prisoner in my own home
Hit me
Tease me
Please me
Baby, why you love me so good?

Prisoner in my own home
Baby, why you love me so good?

Your sweet nothings
Fall on deaf ears

Baby, I love myself
I'm not isolated anymore
I'm not terrified of you
I rescued me from my broken home

I am my own Protector now
I won't stay down,
Not for long.

I'm not that sweet
Naive girl anymore

Oh baby, why you love me so good?
Treat me so right
The best there's ever been
Hold me close, no more tears
Hold me close, no more fears
Hold me close
Never hold me back

Baby, why you love me so good?

I love myself
Because no one else would.
K Dupasquier Jan 2018
There was a time when I was afraid.
Not just scared in the traditional sense.
I was afraid of everything.
Afraid of my own failure.
Afraid of my own success.
Afraid of myself.
Who I was meant to be.
Afraid of expressing myself and afraid of the things that I always wanted for myself.
Afraid of accepting my own dreams, for fear of failure.

There is nothing more paralyzing than the fear of not achieving what you desire most.
Nothing more devastating than losing yourself in fear.
Becoming less of a person, just a shell of the person you once were, because the fear you feel is more consuming than the desire to succeed.
The loss of purpose.

How do you grieve for yourself, when you've allowed fear to fester until you no longer recognize the person in the mirror?
How do you recover from such self destructive behavior?
The suicide of one's inner most dreams?
The destruction of everything you once were?
It's self harm to the nth degree; it isn't physical. It's mental, emotional, spiritual.

You destroy everything you believed in, everything that made you yourself, everything that drove you, pushed you, motivated you, the intense internal struggle, the voice that told you who you are.

The joys, the highs and lows, the love and pursuit of those things that you felt so intensely you couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't hope or dream or function without them.

When you've lost the one thing that anyone ever truly possesses? Yourself, your thoughts, your dreams.
How do you cope when your inner voice is no longer your own?
When you've lost more than anyone can possibly lose?
How do you come back to yourself?

You can't.
There is no going back.
There is no do over.
No chance at recovery.

You can only move forward.
Become someone else.
A different you.
Built anew, from the ground up.
Parallel, but never the same.
Someone who isn't afraid.
Someone who will not let go, no matter the cost.
You know, all too well, the price that must be paid.
And it is not worth it.

The spiral, the dream catcher, the smoke on the breeze.
It unravels, slipping through your fingers.
It drifts away so quietly, piece by piece.
You cannot let go.
Don't you dare let yourself go quietly.
You scream, scratch and claw, and fight.
Ferociously hold on for dear life.
You know the end of this path.
No one escapes death.

But you can fight it.
As long and as hard as you can.
Until there is no longer a breath in your body, a dream to hold onto, no strength left in you.
You still fight.
There is no other choice.
No alternative.

You are no longer afraid.
What more is there to fear when you have faced your own death, fought for life, tooth and nail, and lived.
There is no fear.
Only the razor edged purpose that cuts you to your core.
Knows who you are.
Feeds you.
Fuels you.
Drives you.
There is no place left for fear.

There is only you.
And your inner voice.
Can you hear it?
K Dupasquier Jan 2018
I'm a victim, and;
I'm angry about it.
I'm enraged that I identify myself as such.
It infuriates me to think of myself this way.
It isn't an excuse.

It's not my fault;
That I still feel the betrayal like it was yesterday.
That I still flinch and cower when I think about it.
That my body may be healed, but my mind will forever be scarred.
But it was what I was led to believe.

And I'm ashamed;
That I let myself be angry.
That I let myself feel betrayed.
That I will always bear this scar.
But it is not my shame.

It's a part of who I am now;
It has made me stronger.
It has forced me to find my voice, and allowed me to speak out.
It has shown me that it may always be a part of me.

But it is not who I am.

I am a victim; of your crime.
My anger; is the result of your actions.
My shame; stems from your shameful acts.

After all this time, I realize, you were the victim;
To your jealousy; of my power.

You took away my power;
Tried to claim it as your own.

I have reclaimed my voice; and it is you who is powerless.

I am a victim; of yours; no more.

You hold no power over me.

My voice will be heard.

— The End —