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 Sep 2018 Isabella Terry
kara
you watched as
your daughter set
fire to her sadness
and looked
the other way
when the flames
burned too hot—

when you visit her room
and find nothing but ash,
will you mourn as a mother?
or a bystander?
i needed you and you didn’t see me
 Sep 2018 Isabella Terry
Artistry
The subtle art of not giving a ****
is lost on me.
My cups of ***** runneth over.

I will throw these ***** in the river
and let them float

Down the swift river of regret.
Just so tired of caring too much about everything.
 Mar 2018 Isabella Terry
Artistry
I didn’t feed my addictions today,
They took me over and got in the way.
I couldn’t keep back the flood.
Swift river of regret.

Is this depression or anxiety ?
I don’t feel anxious. I don’t feel sad.
I feel like I’ve been here before.
Walked in this room...opened this door.

On the other side, I found poetry.
I found words that flowed eloquently.
Poetry to free my mind. Release me from rewind.
Free me from regret and pain.
   Make me feel.  
Poetry I’m counting on you.
My newest addiction to get me through.
Everyone’s alittle crazy. The trick is finding what makes you alittle more sane.
Oh, mind, do you mind me minding?
I'm finding it hard to open my eyes,
It's blinding.
I see only darkness in here.
She kind of likes the feeling of fear.

Oh, mind, why is this pleasure unknown?
True happiness is found when you are alone.
Why do the aimless things linger in my head?
Are they incidental? I remember what everyone says.

Oh,  mind, I'm minding the path to my soul.
I hear my heart beat after all.
Just as a soulless beggar on a drum
I pass by and begin to hum.
Thoughts turn into song,
Her thoughts turn into wrong.

Oh, mind, do you mind me minding?
I'm finding it hard to open my eyes,
Sorry for wandering.
 Jul 2016 Isabella Terry
kara
your words           are like
weapons

but my           silence is
maddening

are you beginning to regret
sewing my mouth shut?
 Jul 2016 Isabella Terry
nivek
wet ink is a constant river
weaved with octopus fingers
running back home to the sea
salt water drinks your poetry
a small song riding her waves.

— The End —