I find myself tangled in the lump of my throat.  
Trapped somewhere between my mind of logic and my twisted and aching heart I am dizzy with conflict.  
I am worth something.  
I am worth nothing.  
I am worth more than words can offer.

That familiar lump squeezes and twists my weary emotions as I grasp for a momentary breath of logic.
A thought that reassures what kindness says; an understanding that I am so much more than what he said.  
But in that moment his words, his actions; they come crashing down on me as the lump threatens to engulf me.

Pain and bitter bile wash over me
The choices seem so non-existent.  
Why else would his hatred spiral?  
Why else would a child so young bear such deep and burdened scars?

It must be because I am worth so little.

The secrets that we shared.  
The secrets that I keep.  
These are the fuel to ignite a burning lump of torture.  
I struggle to move on
I struggle to let go while the lump clutches its tiny treasure.  
How do I feel my worth when all I feel is the pain wiping away even the smallest doubt that he might have been wrong?

I want to breathe.  
I want to feel the full capacity of worth expand until that lump of disbelief is pushed aside for good.  

I want to exhale until I know that he was wrong.

Through my Mother's eyes,
There is no reason.
No place to turn to when in pain.
Where is the shelter from her tears?
For they drop like the poison of her persecution.
It's cold and lonely in her misty gray world,
Forcing you to always seek safety.
How can you hide from what's all around you?
No justice or truth will penetrate and shine
Through her clouds of defense.
It's tearing you up,
Beating away at your walls of security.
She's wrapped around a web of disbelief,
Trapped...merely pivoting from blocked pathways.
But that will not chain me,
I seek the freedom that honesty grants,
I will survive in a way that aids others to follow my path.
I can't live my life in deception,
Seeing through my Mother's eyes.

a lifetime of anticipation,
I waited for the Great Feast
a lifetime of discipline,
to spare my appetite
not to spoil it
On mere junk food

As the big day came
The Menu was discussed
In exquisite detail
I was told,
About all the dishes
Their tastes and flavours

Hungry as a roaring lion
I patiently waited at the door
Inside the hallowed hall
My feast was being set
Pure white linen
****** crockery
And golden cutlery awaited
At my seat of honour

With tremendous pomp
The doors swung open
The majestic hall
in candle lit beauty
beckoned and welcomed
my every step

The servants showed my throne
Where I sat down.
Gleaming lids covered my feast
With
Candle light dancing on the polished gold

Hors d ouvres first,
destroyed I was when I saw
That someone else
was here before

My wonderful roast
Already carved,
Huge chunks eaten
And dry bones left

Fresh green peas
Were rudely dug in
By filthy fingers
No manners for a spoon

Desert was half eaten
Ice cream left to melt
And of after dinner mints
Only a handful left

Thus then violated,
My beautiful feast!
Others snuck in
And ravaged my table

They left some crumbs
spoilt leftovers
As the Locusts went on
Without a care!

Now I sit hungry
Alone and forgotten
Staring in disbelief
At my desolate table

How I wish I had known,
Before I came in
That the menu was a lie
And someone else had been

Elsewhere I'd have gone and eaten
Or at least not starved myself
In anticipation for a feast
That the Locusts have eaten

Daylight revealed my majestic hall,
merely an old shed
Where the Locusts were WELCOMED!

Far from being the guest of honour
I am instead the lowly servant
No rights or privilege
Left to clean the Locusts' mess

A live cockroach, if I can catch
Sustains me, barely
I fill my chipped cup
With tears of sadness

I speak to you during the day, you listen but you remain silent. At night I hear a familiar voice, his shift begins when I close my eyelids.

Sometimes in my dreams i see these bright flashes that illuminate, what appears to me to be the sky. But the lightning strikes are a disguise, my subconscious creates to fool my eyes. The action of my neurons firing, are mistaken by my mind as lightning.

I watch the sky in disbelief, for the light show seen is so inspiring. I'm captivated by my thoughts, as they travel along my neural wiring.

My subconscious works overtime to keep me from discovering its deception. But this false reality my subconscious made, is a needed form of protection.

As I dream my mind and body get the rest that's truly needed. So I can recuperate the energy, that the previous day has depleted.

My subconscious is a narrator,  that explains my life without subtitles. Threw my dreams on this screen, plays a movie that I'm forced to watch. So truly when do I get sleep, when I'm in my dreams, and I'm deep in thought.

She lays on the bed
Eyes half closed
And I wonder if
She really knows

What she does to me
How she makes me feel
Pinching myself roughly
I wonder if it's real

You are everything
That's good to me
And I just hope
That you can see

How much you are
To me