'Life is but a dream,' I question the value of it; at the edge of life, the edge of time, the edge of our reality; at the edge of this cliff, we edge ourselves to a falling death. But what if the fall to our death is like a dream—falling into a hole, gaining speed close to it's undersurface? We'd wake up before we hit the ground.
But would I wake up in a cold sweat; or in tears, of longing to find what lies in the somber of a deep hole? Maybe my soul? Haha; it's outline must of been shaped by the mind's many dreams, my child. For what good was it; in the spirit ties of it being lost in the world? A world at times that doesn't feel as real: but just a life of a dream.
So by this edge, clutched by the winds of background; hold your breath before you and I jump. Time may, or may not slow in the plunge to the valley's undersurface. Still perhaps, this all could be a dream, and we'll both wake up before we hit the bottom.
Surely it must be, because I don't know a reality to be as brave to commit such an act. Why pinch yourself, when you've been pinched by pillars of salt in life—sourness and bitterness?
Oh my inner child, life is but a dream: and soon we'll both wake up from it.
They all ask me what I want to be after uni It's no longer when I grow up, though how Any can consider me so is beyond me When I still jump onto the low fences like a cat And traverse them in my absurd boots with barely a bow When no one is looking, and everyone is watching, what A fool and a spectacle I make of myself, I care little for Until I come home, and realise I may have overplayed the clown - But what was I made for, if not to hang upside down, And call the world right side up that way? I implore and ignore You, and you can heed me, or try to read me, But you'll always need me.
Sometimes, it's best I admit to myself that I'm still 5 years old.
Sleeping. She's Weeping. She screams out her Cries.
Falling. She's Calling. There's pain in her Eyes.
Dormant. She's Latent. She feels Paralyzed.
Shifting. She's Drifting. But I keep her Inside.
Uneasy. She's Queasy. Yet I Minimize.
Refracted. She's Lasted. She cant be Denied.
Bleeding. She's Seeking. To be Recognized.
Unwitting. I'm Splitting. I say my Goodbyes.
Heating. It's Fleeting. My old peace of Mind.
Conquered. I'm Anchored. I'm treading Neck-high.
Drowning. Heart Pounding. My sight going Blind.
Vehement. Not Present. I am losing my Pride.
Engaging. I'm Raging. She's loud from Inside.
Neurotic. I'm seasick. From pain left Behind.
Messy. We're Heavy. There's blood on our Lies.
Damage. I Manage. This fall from up High.
Numbness. Crave Oneness. This banal state, Mine.
Transgressing. Keep shedding. And I'll find her Smile.
Uplifting. Deep Thinking. I tame what is Wild.
Releasing and healing My own inner-child.
☼ Mica Light
Sometimes she comes gently. Sometimes she comes with force.
Vehement: marked by extreme intensity of emotions or convictions; inclined to react violently; fervid Banal: obvious and dull; repeated too often; overfamiliar through overuse Splitting: a commonly used defense mechanism for people with BPD that is done subconsciously in an attempt to protect against intense negative feelings such as loneliness, abandonment and isolation; sees in 'black and white'; no 'grey area'
To the little girl who grew up too fast: Who had her childhood taken away from her too young. Who never knew what innocence was. Who desperately searched for love in all the wrong places. Who was afraid to show her heart, but desperately wanted it to be seen. Who craved validation from men, most who didn’t care to know her name. Who drank until the world went black. Who hurt people, because she was hurting her self. So full of angst.
I can still see her now- clearly. She lives inside me. I can find her standing at her favorite beach. Listening to the angry waves crash. It’s night and she’s always crying, but silently. Salt water sprays her face as salty tears run down it. Staring at the ocean, gazing at the moon. Desperate for a glimpse of hope. Here she’s able to feel all the things she has kept inside— Safely.
To the little girl who grew up too fast: Who knew pain so young. Who only wanted the love of her mother, But looked for it in all the wrong places. Who made choices to hurt herself, because she saw no value in herself. Just know, I love you. Even when you’re difficult to love. I wouldn’t be me without you.
I dreamt that I was in a cathedral I had never seen before It was empty and serene It was daytime, yet the candles were lit The stained glass windows did not allow for too much light I was wearing formal attire It was then that I observed a child standing in the left isle He seemed overcome by sadness and desperately lonely The young boy came closer At once he grasped me around my waist He held me in a tight embrace His little hands would not let me go We were caught in a timespace No words were spoken Until the distraught boy broke the silence Please, can I come home with you he pleaded Though I recognised him from somewhere, I did not know him Within a blink of an eye we were at home The boy seemed happy to have found a safe dwelling And I experienced a sensation of wholeness Suddenly I woke from my dream within a daze Trying to gather my thoughts Trying to make sense of it all Was it real or just a dream I wondered Who was that child, and why did he look so incredibly familiar? But the day had begun and the sun was bursting through the clouds I stumbled to the bathroom, splashed my face with cold water ... looked in the mirror At once I realised who the young boy was It was me … Yes, me ... I was the child who needed time and space to heal and grow At an appointed time we met and merged The pieces of a broken puzzle had come together The inner child had finally come home
Running around with a childish smile discovering the surroundings A little girl and her innocence are those which many find incredibly delighting After years and years of uncontrollable curiosity her innocence is distant as it seems to fade away uncaptured by the very glance of her pure eyes
At first it was about you Seeing adornment in your eyes i tell myself I have to break the cycle. I HAVE to break this cycle
But I don't know how To stop This cycle
At first it was about you Wanting to show you the stars and the sky Hear what you've seen in the clouds today To show you the wonderment and beauty of this place Not teach you how to be afraid
Then it was about me Every breath of air I take Disintegrates And I exhale ash How will I be better for you? Be there for you? Grow you? From the examples I've had? It was about you but now it's me? Is that- selfish
I think... It was both You see At first it was you Because thats how I understood But it was me too You were my physical Manifestation Of my Inner child
And as I learn to nourish you my little love By showing you the pine trees The dew stained mornings The great beauty of this place That you- We Don't have to be afraid of I will learn to nourish my Inner Child