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 Nov 2018 Meera
Ashly Kocher
My name is Ashly (yes spelled without
the E)
I was born without a windpipe and was 3 months premature.
I underwent surgery for a tracheostomy and died on the operating table.
I was revived.
I was hooked up to many machines and my parents were told I wouldn’t live for more then 3 days...
If I would survive more then 3 days I would be hooked up to machines my whole life and be in a “vegetative state”
Doctors told my parents and family “I would never live to see my 18th birthday.”
I lived in the hospital for almost 2 years.
At age 2, I myself, ripped out my tracheostomy (which could have killed me)
My family rushed me to children’s hospital and the doctors decided to let the hole in my neck close and see what happens.
My doctors don’t know how I made it through the night or days after.
I went home after a couple weeks and that’s when I started living my life as a “normal” child.
All of my sisters were involved in dance classes, my parents( doctors didn’t agree) enrolled me in to classes.
        THATS WHERE MY LIFE CHANGED
Dance became my passion, along with gymnastics and musical theatre.
Something my family, doctors or even myself never thought I would EVER do.
On my 18th birthday it was a mixture of emotions.
I made a milestone that no one said I would ever see.
I competed in dance and gymnastics until I was 19 years of age as well as did over 60 musicals at my local theatre company.
I never thought I would ever have a boy love me because I had “too many problems” or even get married for that matter.
Fast forward, I am now almost 33 ( June .11th is my birthday)
Married for almost 8 years to my best friend.
Happy doesn’t even cover what I feel everyday waking up next to my love.
We may not have a “family” of our own but we are happy and in love over the moon with one another.

So why did I just ramble on with this?
Because I’m a MIRACLE and a SURVIVOR.
Even though I don’t remember much from my childhood and what I and my family had to endure, I have been fighter since my first breath.

I’M A SURVIVOR and I’VE MADE IT....
Just a little insight to my story. I left out some details but y’all get the idea. Hope this helps to feel why I write and my story.
 Nov 2018 Meera
Edmund black
Knowledge is knowing
I can write beautiful poetry
Say all the right words
To motivate you
and
To tell you all will be fine
Stay strong
Show up for yourself
And
focus on the things
that really matter
You’re perfectly perfect
In every way

But
Wisdom is knowing
No matter how many
Beautiful poetry I’ve written
To motivate you
I still may not reach
Your inner soul

Because wisdom
Is knowing that
Too many people
Are forever stuck
At the age of their
Worst trauma

Wisdom is knowing
The voices inside
Your head will always
Be the loudest

Philosophy is knowing
And
wondering if I too
May be a victim of this
Beautiful world called life
PTST= post traumatic stress disorder ,
Popular among Veterans but not exclusive to Veterans
Don’t minimize someone’s else’s trauma
www.rehabhelponline.com
 Nov 2018 Meera
Asante'
Wide Awake
 Nov 2018 Meera
Asante'
Someone please take me to Dreamland.
Put me on the fastest flight,
'Cause while you slept and slumbered sweetly,
I was wide awake all night.
So if you know the way to Dreamland,
Put the address in my brain,
So I can journey on to find it,
Somewhere where my world is sane.
 Nov 2018 Meera
Penelope Winter
He didn't love me.
He loved the way I danced to our favourite songs.
He didn't love me.
He loved the curious way I admired simple fish in the pond.
He didn't love me.
He loved the way I frowned when I knew I was wrong.
He didn't love me.
Right?
He couldn't have.
Because that would make me a monster.
To see his hopeful heart
And leave him nonetheless.
He didn't love me.
He didn't love me.
Dear God
Please tell me
He didn't love me.

- p. winter
 Nov 2018 Meera
Illya Oz
And if my lungs continue to suffocate me,
I will let it over take me.
I will just close my eyes,
And maybe someone will hear me say goodbye.
 Nov 2018 Meera
Marsha
let me be
your cigarette

so I could
touch
your lips

let me be
your addiction

that you could never
try
to quit
 Nov 2018 Meera
Penelope Winter
I used to write a lot of poems online.
They'd trend, attract followers, etc.
I thought I'd publish a book one day,
People seemed to like reading my stuff.
But, eventually, as most fame does,
my 15 minutes wore off.
I started getting less likes,
Less comments,
Less recognition for my work.
And I guess it made sense
Because I wasn't writing as much
Or spending as much time editing.
So I read through my old poems
To see if I just got worse
Or if there was some underlying reason
For my loss of popularity.
And soon, I began to realize
The only poems I wrote
Were ones of heartbreaks and sadnesses;
Poems of woes and loneliness.
So I wondered to myself
"What changed?"
And saw that I wasn't writing as much
Because I wasn't as sad as I was
When my peotry flowed more smoothly.
I didn't need writing as an outlet
To cope with my pain.
It's not that my life got much better,
(It didn't at all)
But I was learning to continuously find things
To be happy about;
And less to write my
Depressing monologues about.
I had begun to move on with my life
And teach myself that bad days are unavoidable,
It's how we react to them
That determines how we feel.
I used to write a lot of poetry.
But now,
I live it.

- p. winter
 Nov 2018 Meera
Penelope Winter
I dug a knife into her skull
And slowly twisted it
Until her brain was a puddle at my fingertips.

But she would not die.

I threw burning coals into her eyes
And watched her try to cool them
With her tears.

But, despite the suffering, she just would not die.

I held her head underwater
Until her arms stopped flailing
And the bubbles stopped rising.

And though she drowned, she refused to die.

Something inside her
Was fighting to live.

But I owe her my life for that fight.

I guess I'm not cut out to be a murderer,
I couldn't even ****
Myself.

- p. winter
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