TRIGGER WARNING (this deals with suicide)


Hands fall down as they try to work in the mills. Hardened, bruised hands are cut and blood drips on the cloth that she's producing.

She has to work there, if she doesn't she has to bear the slaps of her drunken, miserable husband. Her eyes used to dream of skyscrapers and cities. Now, she is stuck in a slum and an endless cycle of misery.

She dreams on of a life she never lived. She wants it so much that she runs away from this world. She finds sweet release as her body is burned.

I see you, seeing the real me; the woman who hides.
The woman who hides behind the pain of familial hurts
that refuse to fall off and die. I see you, seeing me, looking at me deeply with your heart. I see you looking into my eyes;
who are you really looking at? What are you looking for?
I have pain yes, I have hurts, yes. I have pains that you’ll never
want to know about.

But your eyes, your eyes are the window to my soul.
That night at the table I saw you, looking at the real me.
I saw the deepness inside of you, through your eyes.
I saw your devotion; you reached out to me and gave
me something I’ve never had before, real strength.

You say to me, “life is too short to be unhappy.”  
Because of your strength, I am working on just that,
being happy. Because of the way you look into me, I am clearing out the sadness and clutter that has kept my life
in deep dis-repair.  

I am working on not allowing any person; place or solitary
thing, to steal my joy, and to keep me down.
Because of the way you look into me, I am a work in progress.
Because of the way you look into my soul, I am working
on making changes that you see deep inside of a broken me.

When I look into your eyes, I see feelings; I see strength,
I see the power of what a really good man can actually do.
I see a drop of golden honey, that gets sweeter and
sweeter with each passing day.

When I look into your eyes, I see my future being put
together with grains of sand, that bind us together to
heal both our pasts.  When you look into my eyes, I feel you inside of me. Your strength is helping me heal,
you are rebuilding my hurts; pains, and all of my
disappointments.

When you sit next to me and stare into my eyes;
my soul is being autographed by your character.
You give me a portion of your strength when your
eyes look through me and see my pain.
Your eyes see something in me that I ever knew
was there, because your eyes are the window  
to my healing soul, I can work on healing myself,
and release my hidden pain and sadness.

I used to feel compassion. Not now. I used to think of you. I've changed since then. You think I'm corrupted. I think you've been lied to. I'm not going. Never. Not again. It hurts too much. I can't, I'm not coming back.

Can one blame me for hiding?
For this cowardice?
Not because of embarrassment
Nor the prejudice,

But because of the fear of loosing you.
What we have—I hold onto it foolishly.

Longing for your trust (absolute, mutual),
I stay by your side. Like a ritual,
Thought repeats, (hopeless, in a haze):
“I await for you, never and always.”

Ive seen death
I am dying inside
Ive seen chaos
I am lost in it
Ive seen destruction
I lead the way
But I will never see,
Why...

His promises of
Tomorrow, Something to look
Forward to, waiting

“All my roses like to go,”
He says looking outside.
“I am sure they’ll come again,
In the spring they’ll come out,
Wherever they do hide,
And I’ll be able to rest.”
    
    Something has eaten my flowers...again
    And I am not sure who to blame.
    I take such nice care of them
    But they never seem to grow.
    Maybe there is a mole…
    Yes feasting away my crop
    Or perhaps I am too early
    And the chill has made them stop.
    I say laments and I cry
    But all I ever do
    Is shrivel up and die.
    
    I will try something else,
    Roses always die too soon
    I will try something else!
    And then I do nothing.
    Weeds and vines grow about
    Clogging my drains as they sprout.
    My garden feels empty
    All I want is one thing
    But then I'm left with plenty.
    
    You once had a nice presence
    Here some time ago
    But then one day you stopped
    And left me all alone.
    Roses, they are telling me
    That I am not the one they want
    Somehow I’m not good enough
    And I should just stop.

    Barbous thing you tricked me
    Was it ever mine to want
That i gave you all the conditions
And you gave me naught.
So I look in puddles
And hear about others success
But all I do is wilt
And in it I regress.

I feel like gypsum
A minor step in between
    Stale and used
    Time has expired for me.
    Why are there so many vines,
    Why is there so many weeds,
    All vexing me in all directions
    I wish I could fall asleep.

    My face is cracking plaster
    As I start to weep
    I feel my mind sinking
    And I start to dream.
    You are the ****** one
    With little of success.
    I am the ****** one,
    They know what is best.

    I changed everything
    So i could be adequate
    I played the role they liked
    But in the end I am looked at
    In bitter thoughts and spite.

    There is a curious thing
growing in my garden.
The vines have blossomed
And the weeds bear fruit.
Is this the allure of sadness
Or just an unrealized truth
Because I sit and look
At the thing I ignored.

So here I take
What has been given
And we brush away
The mistake I’m living
So stop with all this fake peace
You should have been
Honest with me.

So find some sugar songbird,
You can bury me alive.
But I’m not the one
Having something to hide.

Here is my garden,
There is plenty of space
And i don’t want to live
Under your passive glance.

Here is my chance
I’ll try to let go.
But I am the memory of someone
They will always know.