Right now, as we speak, there's a little boy, aged five
Pushed aside on the corner of his mat, where he naps
His fingers are clenched onto shredded crumbs of bread
He managed to get his hands on this morning despite his mother's constant nags
About having to save the last few bits for his new born sister
Ashes and rubble are his best friends ever since he can remember
Disturbance aches him no more
For everything he's ever known are dents
He wouldn't know what the other side of the rainbow looks like, let alone both
For he's never encountered a rainbow during his yelps of pain
Pressure, abundance of destruction, humiliation
His innocent weeps never reach aid
He is now used to it
No more room to present emotion
For everything he's encountered will forever be frozen in time
He wouldn't know what peace is, ever
For contrarily that would be foreign to him
Therefore, somewhere in this world, silence takes over
This little boy whose whole life has been built on lies and disruption
I get this feeling,
It sinks through my spine.
Sits in my bones.
Like an unwanted guest,
And I, the unwilling host.
The intruder finds its way to my feet.
Making my toes curl,
As if ready to run.
But I'm not ready for anything.
My hands do the same.
Hard to hold anything,
With this earthquake
Terrorizing my body.
Cold and uneasy,
They cling to each other.
Is it just a chemical,
Or a symptom,
Of all lost direction?
Where do I put
All this misplaced disruption?
Now find the pieces,
Paint the picture.
Find some reason
In this sloppy meter.
My understated explanation.
Screams in the night,
Sleeping all day.
Yelps of pain,
And cries of anger.
Tears in the light
Screams in the night.
Terror through and through,
Scared thoughts of pain.
Living in sadness,
All taken and blue,
Terror through and through.
I wrote these separately, but feel now that they belong together. I spent a lot of my teen years caring for my mentally and physically ill mother. I remember being afraid to sleep because I'd get woken by her screaming in pain or mentally ill fears.
a child's fissure
clasping favourite shell
in tight world
#family #disruption #moving #treasures #mementos #lost #ignored
For a very young child, moving house can be incredibly bewildering, disruptive, even traumatizing, especially when moving countries tends to mean belongings need to be severely curtailed. Few remember their own childhood attachments, closely held treasures, even if perceived by harried adults as inconsequential as a bag of broken seashells. Would a little more listening and empathic explanation with kindness ease things well at such transition times
One day I'm going to explode.
All of this hate my heart can't hold.
Don't act like you don't even know,
You're the cause of this.
Throwing accusations back and forth,
Just by existing you start destruction.
Whenever you open your mouth to speak it
feels like a disruption.
Overall, I'm just convinced you're a suction.
All the good energy drains when you're around.
Because of these actions, it's harder for redemption to be found.
for the fake friend in my life that was always working against me...and failed to prove she changed. good riddance.
There was a disruption in the
Creation of this
No data can be
Are you sure you want to try again?