They say healing is lonely
But they never tell you
That the silence
will suffocate you.
Pressing down on
every square inch
Of your body.
Forcing you to feel
the weight of letting go
of who you were
For who you need to be.

Don't read me if you knew me once
My silence,my laugher ,my folded hands
You'll think these lines are diaries
And search for your shadow in every stanza

This is not for you
Not for the ones who watched me grow
Called me nicknames
Or claim to know how I hurt

I write for the uknown eyes
The ones who don't flinch
At the sight of my rawness
Strangers who won't say
"I know who is about."

My poems are not secrets spilled
Ther are truths I dressed in rhythm
Not confessions for your curiousity

So close the book
If you ever thought you had me figured out
These verses are for the world
Not for you
Who never listened
When I spoke without rhyme.

Warning - Triggering themes, scroll down to see the poem, 15 plus advised in AUS or 18 plus in USA and not easily sensitive.
self inflicted wounds, suicide themes.

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Mother,  I stopped my attempts
banging my head,
against in the sink
in the laundry,
its built for anything.
You cradled me,
after my last attempt,
I don't wish to live......

No red flows ever glows,
and dark is all I'll ever see
No ***** Wonka flows
to a land I wished between
I scream silently as I holler.

Heaven's as dark as the blackest angels,
I wish upon my dead feet swollen sandals,
Bloom is the whole of the glass of empty
Shard sharp soles and I wish to end this.

Where the waterfall splashes the once here of ghosts,
I wish apart from the nightly sounds of pre-existing
Borderline of the press play of my spooked out mind,
Crawlers make it impossible to press rewind,
You're stuck on pause and the trick is not fast forward
but present-time of the straight piercing sword,
Frozen as the little nightmares wrap like a cord.

When I hurt, a paradise sounds cursed,
I never reached the pelican's beak
You can't understand the salvation
vs conflicts deepened temptation.

A rusted plate greets me as I wait,
the sky swoops pick me up as bait,
and the nearby ant's nest is far less
the pain as they pinch sensitive skin.

Nearby wasps sweetened by the honey
is a myth of the hard dealing of money,
and a sweet little thing experiencing hell
never dreaming of that lonely of cells.

Musicians, producers of ruination
and yes, this Artist of Hello-Poetry
At least I admit to all things grim,
I can't be forgiven with a gentle hymn,
When what existed never a nymph
and worse could have been tragic,
if all my sins came alive of magic.
Fool eyes full of deceit of a twin.

Gently now as the heartbeat rests,
and fading as the artist rests in *******
of a love of a Goddess created stature
of bone marble and eye-lust statue.

I over-dosed with a nose-bleed,
woke in hospital among the weeds,
barbecued and wired corpses
I keep hearing them with the voices
nights are like lightning hitting,
randomly like hail storming freaking
smashes my mind with ice blocks,
the size of jelly fish, remedies,
inject the stereo with inanities
Fishermen on acid in the docks....

A lover with a chain so anchored needs...
The worm contained with the diseases,
at the table of a first class best resort
prawns and ***** are a word for pollute
and the stables flashing of the horses
galloping when lightning comes strikin'