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AnnaMarie Jenema Nov 2016
The human heart has guarded itself.
It builds layer upon layer of walls.
A different mask for every occasion,
and few will ever see what lies beneath.
Some walls you have created,
others were built for you.
With or against your own wishes.
Until you loose yourself in them,
And can't distinguish yourself,
from that of the mask.
AnnaMarie Jenema Nov 2016
Rarely do my poems capture,
the beauty of nature,
a moment or metaphor,
for it's beauty.
The shining frost,
on a chilly morning,
how your breath fogs in the crystalized air,
As frost encases the earth.
Rarely do I tell how eyes gleam,
And smiles grow warm,
Because I speak in stories.
I tell tales through my words,
explaining emotions to my blind heart,
so it can understand how it feels,
And speaking in sobs that roll off my tongue,
much like tears flowing from one's cheeks.
Because I speak in stories,
I have forgotten the beauty of fleeting moments.
of seconds,
of scenes,
of life and earth both.
I write in order to heal my wounds,
to better grasp myself.
To tell myself that I still exist,
when I am no more than an empty shell.
But I have lost the beauty.
I have forgotten the truth,
of how much I love poetry.
And why I adore it so.
AnnaMarie Jenema Nov 2016
this
problem,
my worry
dissipating,
Dissolving,
It's scattering.
And Shrinking.
blurring from what,
once was evident until
the burden begins to lessen so.
This worry of mine is slowly morphing,
transforming,
Transcending the boundary that once was
And now we'll just have to wait and see.
To find out what comes next.
AnnaMarie Jenema Nov 2016
I have a soft heart.
Not in the way of kindness,
Nor angelicness,
Because I do not believe I am either.
But in the way that it is fragile,
Easily maimed and torn.
But it's also easily delighted and embarrassed.
You cause my soft heart to leap and bound,
Singing towards the sky.
My soft heart has little experiance,
And you,
Being the adorable cuddly one you are,
Cause my heart to take flight,
My soul flying with it.
My mind then leaves its quarters,
As my thoughts roll out the window.
And I am left in a happy daze,
Wondering if I'll ever wake from this dream.
AnnaMarie Jenema Nov 2016
Roses, petals,
Golds and silvers,
glitter, diamonds,
Laughs and giggles.
Everything you are.
Happiness and my joy.
Spite, torment,
Backstabbing and hate,
Judgement, sorrow,
Tears and agony,
Drama, pain.
How they treat us.
I'm so sorry.
I never hoped that they could be so cruel.
My own family is ganged against me.
I knew they did not support me,
That they can't even be happy for me.
But to go as far as talking behind my back?
Why do they want this for me?
Why would they stab a wound into their own family?
I never wanted for you to get hurt,
I hoped that they would just relent,
And leave me be.
My decision not theirs.
Because you are my happiness.
The cause for my sorrow to turn to joy.
Yet they wish I had never found the happiness you give to me.
Those who I believed would never turn on me.
AnnaMarie Jenema Nov 2016
I am worried for her,
for her future,
for all the school she's missing.
Worried that I can't be there and hold her till all of the nightmares go away,
worried that I'm not good enough,
that I've failed her.
Scared to death of her loosing this race,
that she means every threat she utters to herself,
That she's not teasing us as she says she is,
that her nightmare's will  become her reality,
more so than they already are.
They say not to worry,
to concentrate on school,
and not let it affect my grades,
and I'm trying to,
but I can't help but tear up at where her life may take her.
There was a meeting recently,
in order to spread awareness to the cause,
and after fleeing the building,
tears wanted to build up,
And let out my anguish,
But my eyes are dry and unable to cry for once.
A rare occasion.
Few understand how horrible it's effects,
how much the creatures torment her,
I can't even imagine what she goes through each day,
as we just watch as they eat her alive,
and the rest of the world calls her insane,
a danger to society.
It's getting worse,
day by day.
medication failing,
tests being reevaluated.
They told us it was psychosis,
that it wasn't as bad as it could be ...
only to find out it's worse.
How can I not be worried?
My thoughts are a vicious cycle.
AnnaMarie Jenema Nov 2016
I have highs and lows.
I've been told this.
More so than most.
One moment could starkly contrast the next,
as I move from joy to sorrow,
from happiness to gloom.
I've swept issues under the rug,
my heart being buried alive
by their dark comments.
and things that happened to me as a child.
I refused to cry,
to let others know,
and so the dust grew and grew over my heart,
until it was buried alive.
And now that poor soul weeps,
at the most random of times.
Over an ice-cream cone gone awry,
or stupid instances.
Anger pounds it's way to where it doesn't belong,
being taken out on those it never should've touched,
a misplaced frustration,
screaming out from the buried heart.
Buried beneath the weight of low self esteem.
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