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 Mar 2019
Lillian Teresa
The girl in the puddle
Looks like a woman

Maybe the ripples
Warp my view-
Maybe not! But
I can't see clearly, anyway.

Her smile
Kind of looks like mine

Her longing ties strings to my heart
And pulls; I want to love her
Someone should.

She's been alone too long
Been at home too much
Been a *****
To get along with.

I see her again in the window
Of a shop; stalking me.
I can't escape her.

I want to leave her
Need to please her
Who is she, anyway?

I ask,
But she won't reply

I take,
And she does not give

She throws,
Still I do not catch.

I pick a flower
Bend over a pond
And place it behind her ear-

She does not thank me,
But-

Her smile
Kind of looks like mine
I wrote this during my last stay at a psychiatric clinic where I was challenged to write more positively about myself.
 Mar 2019
Lillian Teresa
Can you see them in the night?
A thousand broken sisters
Howling at the moon
And leaking love

Watch them dance
Amid their sorrow
Watch them lift a new day
With every breath

Through their cracks
You get to know them
Through their tears
You'll wipe your own

Can you hear them?
Shrieking! Singing
“Amazing grace, how
******* SWEET the sound!”

Hurling empowerment
At their own reflections!
Taking their stolen souls
Back- By force!

By grace and the smell
Of their cigarettes;
Rolled in the very fabric
Of their fears.

Be afraid of them-
They are, and
Forever will be,
Unstoppable.
This is the poem I wrote upon leaving the psych clinic where I stayed in a trauma unit for a few weeks. I missed the strong and powerful women I met there a lot, and wanted to honor them somehow.

— The End —