Lover of Disney.
Connoisseur of fairy tales.
With stories of lonely-girl-turned-princess
and wooden boys swallowed by whales
(just longing to be real).
Ever a believer in Happily Ever After.

I thought I could be your disaster.

I raged.
Hurricane gales with lightning and thunder.
Earthquakes and landslides.
Stormed into a blunder.

I thought you were frail,
but you're corrugated steel.
A bastion, a bulwark; impregnable.
A stronghold made up of shining white stone.

When the rampage was over,
the only foundation destroyed was my own.

I wake up at 4 am with my mind and all that is in it erased.

I stay there for 5 minutes.
Then my memory comes back to me and it leaves me wondering if I'm actually alive or dead.

Have I lost myself?
I don't feel like I'm living in my body.
I'm not myself.

I'm stuck.
Other see my figure walking but it's not my own.

I'm struggling.
To keep myself controlled.
To speak when I want to.
To feel what I should feel.

I'm at war with my own mind.
Please don’t waste your love on me.
I'm unworthy.
I'm not belittling myself.
But I'm not capable of it yet.

It aches.
My heart doesn't fit it’s cage.

My body is not my own.
I don't know who I am.

But I'm living until my bones dry out.

and you promised me a hug after every game
but you havent kept that
and i promised to come to every game
but so far they've all been hellish
so i wont keep that either

When I was just five years old
My story began
When I first called out to God
My life had changed
Weakness brought me down
No more
Strength could be found
Sadness and fear
Overtook
Happiness and hope
Crying
Instead of
Laughing now
Anxiety
Ruined
My peace
Darkness
Overshadowed
The light
Dwelling inside of me
Into a deep dark misery
I fell so hard
But though...I thought
God was there with me the whole time
Well he was...and now I realize^^^
(read back up from bottom)

To my dead son or daughter
I left you
Let you pass
Kept you out

Frozen
The mark of
the palmist foretelling five children
I climb this hill now with four at my side

Your memory: A shadow on the distant range
where eucalyptus is to its last
the blue mountain

Though I climb and four grow
the wife that was then is now gone
her grief and her echo

Still I sense the soft pad of your call
the tug of your passing
and then almost
the first breath of greeting


MChallis © 2015