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Kelly O'Toole May 2019
I tiptoe across the floor,
I sway side to side.
I like to feel different textures, but some they make me cry.
I'm also a fussy eater, my beans can't touch my egg.
And god help you if you think I'm eating all that veg.
Bath time can be stressful,
I don't like water on my head.
It makes me feel weird and gives me a shear dread.
I know what's coming next,
The comb to my head.
I don't like the prickles, they feel just like the trickles.
The towel may be warm, but it irritates my skin.
The clothes are nice and bright but they just feel too tight.
My socks are never right,
My shoes rub off my skin.
The light flickers and the walls are caving in.
The music is thumping.
My head is pounding.
My mind is racing.
I feel agitated.
Panic has set in.
And my heart it is throbbing.
The humming of the oven,
The wish wash of the machine.
The dripping of the tap,
The whistle of the birds.
The bark of the dogs,
The cries of the baby.
The whispering of the walls.
I need my safe space.
I need to calm down.
I may self soothe as your touch could feel crude.
My emotions are overwhelming.
I can feel all the tears, it's like I'm drowning, so please stay near.
I try to do good, but I get frustrated.
No one sees my struggle, because I don't know how to say it.
I'm like a ticking bomb, ready to unleash thunder.
I scream, I roar, I hit, I kick.
I bite with all my might.
But I am in fright.
It's from the fight or flight.
But I am a gentle being,
Misunderstood it seems.
I might not like my toys,
But you bring me so much joy.
My eyes appear glazed and I may seem like I'm in a daze.
And though I might not say it, I love you in many ways.
Kelly O'Toole Jan 2019
Don't be sad because I am gone,
Be happy time was shared so long.
For the memories we created and the love we treasured.
For I am never far, I am always there.
For I watch over you, as you soundly sleep.
I visit you in your dreams, so you can see me.
I listen to you in your prayers,
I am the breeze of the fresh summer air.
In the familiar smell, I am the memory.
In the tears, I am the weight off your shoulders.
In the warm embrace, I am the hug.
I am the goosebumps, when you think of me.
In the happiness, I am the sun shining bright.
And In the photograph, I am the story of a beautiful life.
Kelly O'Toole Sep 2018
Im naked and exposed,
My vulnerabilities taking hold.
But I have no bounds, I knew this when I fell.
For his aura lured me in,
His beautiful soul caught hold of mine.
For we were pulled together by invisable twine.
Ravelled, but I could have broke free.
For it was where I wanted to be, where I wanted to stay.
Blinded by his memphis,
Locked in by his gaze.
Just for one sweet moment, be entangled in one anothers love.
For love it was. But love it couldnt be.
For you didn't belong to me, I had to set you free.
The right love, at the wrong time.
Maybe in another life you would have been mine.
But for now I'll just wonder, I'll wonder what could have been.
Kelly O'Toole Jun 2018
Like a thorn in the side twists, turns, shifts, thugs at my pride, who am I and why?
Forget to be, forget to try. Sigh, deny and try, oh try, to find out who am I?

Struggle to reach. Struggle to come to grip with reality. You see all these expectations get laid on me, I cant seem to find my feet.

Even in finding my feet, defeat. Defeating my mind and steeped and bleeding, I'm blind and beat.
I'm beating the blinds, the street, it limits the finds and eats, it eats at my mind.

But rise to my feet, I will. Beat my way through, I do. The passing days, they may get all hazy. But I got a vision, I do.

Clear as unmuddied water, that vision peaks and from the merky pool hope leaks. Not made that of odour which reeks, rather perfume which speaks to those bold, brave, not weak.
Who on top of a mountain sits and seeks and stands on the ocean before they may sink and know their song well before they dare speak.

Hope keeps us hooked. Pain gives us drive. For that, I will swallow my pride. My dignity beat, battered and bruised. But my reputation in tact.
My strenght unmatched. Unmask myself I will. Through this treacherous journey, I shall grace salvation, to find my inner will.

And with journey abound to destination unknown leaving that hope, strenght and will for events which have thrown light into the tunnel. Illuminating the stone which sits on the temple of freedom and soul, spirit, freewill, autonomy, suddenly realisation that still ...
Still I am me.
A poem wrote in collaboration with my good friend about the journey to one finding their true identity.
Kelly O'Toole Aug 2016
My eyes cry tears of sadness,
I see the picture that's causing the madness.
A little boy washed up on shore,
His frail little body, his soul so pure.

One of many lives that have passed,
One of many lives gone far too fast.
Such a young boy filled with hopes and dreams,
How was he to know what his faith would be?
A faith decided by fellow human beings full of hate, anger and greed.

A family fleeing for safety and peace.
Their search for serenity to be short lived,
A life needlessly stripped so quick.

I pray his death was not in vein,
I pray it awakens the human race, to what the world should be.
A world full of love, peace and harmony.
Dedicated to Aylan Kurdi and his family along with all the other refugee's whom have lost their lives during their search for safety.
Kelly O'Toole Jan 2015
She hits him so hard he lives in fright.
The fright so bad he can't sleep at night.
Afraid to fight back he blocked the sight. In his own little world he will fight the fight.
It will be over in a minute he will be alright. He stands back up and does as she asks.
Tears in his eyes he can't hold back.
Her friends are there, they ignore the blasts.
Blow by blow he's going to pass.
Blood streaming, he feels like screaming.
He tells his dad when he gets home.
"It's okay son I'm here tonight."
But she beats daddy too. He's in the same shoes.
Battered and bruised he goes for  a snooze.
Screaming awakes him, he's extremely shaken.
Walking down the stairs he can hear his daddy's scared.
The sight he sees, a child should not know. How use he is to the show.
Daddy won't talk, daddy won't tell. The secret he has is keeping him in hell.
He wants to run, he wants to break free, but he's a child, he needs your help please.
Kelly O'Toole Sep 2014
Sometimes I sit awake at night and wonder about this
beautiful thing called life.
I sit amazed at how we've grown.
The grass, the flowers, the trees.
Natures magic.
I see a daisy sprout up. My little sister yanks it up.
"Look Kelly, look at this pretty flower!"
At three years old she appreciates life's magical soul.
Smiling brightly she searches for more flowers.
My nature baby is what I call her but she tells me she's a flower girl.
As the wind blows she goes with the flow.
"Oh my god Kelly look at that buuug!"
I giggle as I watch the tiny insect wriggle!
How did she even spot it?
Though the leaves are falling and crunching she still
grabs them for her bunch.
The excitement lights up her little face.
She's not letting this nature go to waste.
She sees the blue within the grey skies.
"These are for mammy" she beams with pride.
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