The frustration you get
When you wake up in the middle of the night
And can't fall back to sleep.

You look at the clock,
Hoping,
It'll soon be time to get up.
But then you realize
It's not even near that time.

It's like the sun knows when you're awake and,
Just to be a ******,
Takes its time coming up.

So you lie there...
Trying to get some rest.
You squirm and change positions,
But still...
Nothing happens.

You begin to think about
Your life,
Your future,
The world,
Everything...

Then, all the bad thoughts become worse.
You think...
Maybe something might happen,
Or something may already have happened.

You try harder to fall asleep,
But you can't stop.
Can't stop thinking.
And you feel...
Upset...
Overwhelmed...
And you can do nothing
to stop all the horrible thoughts from coming through.

Then you're at the stage where now,
Your thoughts aren't coming in patterns anymore.
They scatter...
Like a nebula.

So you lie there.
You've given up.
You feel hopeless...
Like no one could ever help you.
So you just wait...
Wait for everything to be over.

The girl was scared of puddles
And she was scared of rain
Every time the thunder clapped
She raced back inside again

She was given beautiful umbrellas
And coats of waterproof silk
But still she sat inside
And read on the window sill

As she grew the rain poured harder
And the girl cowered away
She hid behind her mother’s back;
She never ran to play

She was afraid of what the droplets were
So she sat and watched them gather
She still refused to step outside
And so she grew ever sadder

People came along
And people quickly left
They found the girls odd cowardice;
The way she counted every breath

There came a day when it was too late
And the girl was forced outside
She was lost without her silken coats
And with no place that she could hide

The girl was chilled clean through to bone
And her shy life came to an end
In her silken coats she reached the gates
And the golden stairs she did ascend.

In God’s own home she lay down her fears
And she swore that she’d be brave.
For there there are no window sills
And no pouring rain or hate.

Saint Peter smiled and praised her,
The girl who’d been inside,
And Saint Peter whispered truthfully
As he watched the young girl cry:

“Now, girl who’s scared of puddles,
And girl who’s scared of rain,
Did you ever think that when the thunder claps
It doesn’t have to mean your pain?”

“There’s others out there, like you
Who have suffered just as much
Yet they stay strong and they pull through
And they do not lose touch.

“I’ve been here always to protect you,
And that will never change.
So when you’re scared next just think of that,
And stand to face the rain.”

You must learn to love the puddles
And embrace the freezing drops
Dance under the thunderclouds
Until the lightning stops

Child you fascinate me.
Everything about you reminds me
Of everything I longed to be.
You are an embodiment of the earth
Your mossy green eyes
Placed perfectly on tanned skin
Surrounded by light brown hair
That is streaked by sunny days.
Your full pink lips
Never seem to have the ability
To hold back a smile
That would put the brightest stars
To shame.
Child you amaze me.
You defy the binds of society
In a way that I long to do.
Your long black eyelashes
Untainted by paint
And your skin free
Of the concealing mask.
You walk with your face
To the sky
And it is beautiful.
Child you intrigue me.
Your mind is so colorful
I long to know what you are thinking.
You question the world
Not out of fear or suspicion,
But pure curiosity.
Because in your mind
Every answer
Every word
Every living thing
Has endless possibilities
And you are the perfect example.
Child you astound me.
You say what is on your mind
And i wouldn’t have it any other way.
There is no room in your
Heart for bottled up emotions
And your time is far too precious
For words left unsaid.
You live in the moment
With no tolerance for
Those who try to hold you back.
Child you inspire me.
You have this strength and confidence
That I try so hard to master.
You have never been one to
Fear the opinion of others.
You don’t waste your time
Worrying about what they say
Not because you don’t know
But because
you simply don’t care.
You like being you.
And though I know you are
Already aware
I will say it once more, Child
You are good enough
I promise you are

Her seventh suicide,
attempts failed, saved,
the last by that medic
with the beard like Christ.

Thin sharp blade
against forearm,
the fingers shaking,
the eyes focused,
the voice of some French singer
in the background,
the red line,
the spurt of blood,
the walls, the bath,
splattered.

Seventh time lucky,
the water warm,
the water reddening,
the body becoming cold,
tired
she closes
her eyes,
is this how one dies?

Mother’s demise
with the cancerous crab
******* into her brain
and ******* up to pain.

She thinks on,
the French song
on the hifi
low, darkening.

That medic
brought her back
last time,
like some Lazarus,
back from the dark,
the unknown light,
the long night.

Seventh suicide,
attempts made,
unsuccessful,
buggered up,
teetering on the edge,
that time balanced
on the high office ledge
and that cop
with the Al Pacino look,
talked her in,
failed again.

Outside another day,
sound of pitter patter,
sound of rain.

I tried to
write
a poem about you
but instead
I scribbled a
big, orange-ink blob
and I figured
that made
just as much sense.