It's only love
no reward required
Tell it like it is
this is your story
your life your truth
let them hear your heartbeat.

They referred to me as trash
I was b             r
                  o             k      
       e                 n                pieces
The world tried to put me back together into one piece
but the cracks were still visible
They meant nothing to life.
I was treasure by then
The environment, ready to accept me

I was one of the dynamite that will enlighten the journey of the BROKEN

i wish i was a soft girl
the ones you find in movies
with tears of honey
and kindness that warms like golden sunshine
dewdrop flowers with ambrosial petals
blooming with unwavering patience and soft lips

instead i am just a girl
with a chest of steel
and i am angry
that i foolishly keep waiting
for someone to lift the curtain
and maybe see me
as a soft girl too

50 years acting defensively,
A shield against the attacks and abuse,
Barbed words, scorn and contempt.
Lashing out inappropriately,
The only path known,
A form of protection
A semblance of normality,
Instead ending up
Disconnected,
Lonely,
Alone.

Now discovering another way to be,
Dragging myself from the enticing
Well-worn familiar slippery path
Of melancholy and self-flagellation,
To flower filled meadows
And babbling brook
And choosing my own way
Through the long sweet grass,
To as yet undreamt
And unimagined,
But long overdue,
Pleasures, delights, and food for the soul.

With the loss of a love
That was sent from above
Grief is a hole
That appears in your soul
That can never be filled
No matter your will
To try and replace
The familiar face
That was sent from above
To fill you with love

is this
what it feels like
to be a fossil
in the making?
to have pebbles,
sand and grit
swept slowly
on top of me.
not to mention
the crushing
and deafening
of miles of water
pressing it all down
to bury me.

but sometimes
sometimes there's
relief and light
when someone
digs through the
weight to reveal
the shadow of the
creature that once
lay there.
but then that husk
is reduced to
cinders in a mountain
of others.
and i guess you could say
that 'power station'
is adulthood.
or life.