AS 6d
Life is not free,
it comes with a cost just to breathe.
The expectations not to be emplaced on the seed.
Judged for how they choose lead.
Punished for how they believe and chose to breed.
Marked and abandoned,
for choosing to see and to move away,
to reject disgusting displays.
To be shown disdain for following their own way.
Blamed when they choose not to stay the same.
Cost of the invisible chain,
placed on the terrain of birth.
Dependent to the pain,
to the mother who reined.
Tossed away when finally mirrored the destructive game,
patience snapped and apologised for the same way the birth-maid acts.
Distanced to detach,
to move away from the shame.
A promise made when a little babe,
to never be the same.
Shocked on the way,
they pushed patience down the drain.
Enacted by refusal to be the slave,
to take the blame and defend the endless plague you enrage.
Expected to be thankful,
guilted to stay in line.
Manipulated every time they attempt to  fly.
Co-dependently wrapped,
to give meaning the way in which your life lacked.
An ear to smear all your hate,
fear and tsunami tears.
Flooded in your pain,
you  the victim and to take no blame.
Born a parent in the early days,
cleaning and protecting you from the dirt you spurt.
From the countless monsters in which you learnt.
Sadness,
that you ever witnessed that level of madness.
Not to be kept to your past tense,
to swallow and drain with your inner hallow.
To clip their wings,
as for only you they can sing.
To demand,
offended when the glove is on the other hand.
To not poison others land or be offended when they flee.
When the hunger to find serene,
suck dry for too long.
Came to a point,
grief hidden within the earthly core finally exploded.
No longer naive,
willing to adore or ignore.
Needing to breathe,
to speak,
to burst out what has been hidden underneath.
To truly breathe,
to find reprieve.
To heal from the demons which deceived.
To unfreeze the mind,
from all the other monsters you missed slip by.
Not to be told that I lied,
because it breaks your god damn pride.
Not to be hissed at or dismissed,
for what you missed.
Life has been,
was what I owed,
for being brought up and given food.
The basics to accept the rudeness and being clueless.
Don't give birth if your child does not come first,
don't let them bleed to feed your own needs.
Recognise they're a child,
not a friend to take care after you've gone wild.
Not to be confined in places they seem wise.
A child is a gift,
not someone to heavy lift.
Not to manage your whims.
As a child do not owe,
no entitlement to treat them low.
Rid of your countless rules,
the one's incredibly cruel.
Those only practised by the few,
the ones who spread the blue,
to those who surround.
Unable to find stable ground.
Life should be free,
in this way you see,
it cannot not be.
Children deserve to breathe,
not to have them mentally disciplined onto their knees.


© 2018

Abigail Sheard
Poetry is my release, a place to reveal and heal.

I am very lucky that my anxiety and depression no longer fully control me, it has taken a lot of hard work though to get to this point.

Below is a link to how I moved to thriving, instead of trying to survive each day:

https://www.reddit.com/r/ThrivingNarcAbuse/comments/8ydqko/the_journey_to_thriving_an_honest_and_hopeful/
BJ Donovan Mar 5
Jack Daniel's

We bought a broken dog
and took him to our broken home
to live with this broken family.
We tried to fix him with broken
training. I was too broken to get
it right. The more I yelled the more
broke he got. I had a drunken insight
one evening walking him in a full moon.
He reminded me of me in my childhood.
I saw things through his broken eyes
and held him close. I promised I'd fix us.
I adopted myself from a dog shelter.
Those days when I relished candy floss
And for each petty matters gave a toss
Always kept a bet with the friend
Bribed till the end
When won felt secured
When lost insecured
Childhood memories strange
Often appear and enstrange
Playing with marbles
When cold invited gargles
Playing in puddles
Eating noodles
Those days have gone
Pleasant to remember bygone
I'm not over her,
Though painful,
Without it,
,
.

The foundation of my childhood home,
Became the foundation,
Of an inferno.
She is the firewood,
She is the flames,
She is incendiary,
She is the pain.
It horrifies me she will never feel the heat,
Nor see the lights,
As this will never scald her skin,
Nor scorch her eyes.
Edited July 2018... This poems really angry, My bad... aha.
Aslam M 2d
Wanted to communicate
But was so Empty Inside
So  I kept Quite .....

Wanted to excel in Academics
But took my teachers word
that I was average.


Wanted to take part in Sports
But was sick ,weak and lethargic.

Wanted to make new Friends
But could not talk to them
Out of fear and Rejection.

I was a loner till the end ...
Just wished I could amend.
My own  experiances during my school days.
Breanna Smith May 2012
I lay awake in bed one late night
Letting memories wash over me
When a memory wondered into my brain
A memory of my childhood
Back to late nights
Just as this one
When I was cuddled up
With my soft big blue blanket
It was torn at the edges
One edge missing completly

It kept me worm in the winters
Made a great fort in the summers
Held me tight during nightmares
Wiped my tears when I cried
Let me rest in its vast softness
Made an elegant dress for dress up
The best padding for play fights
Made for the best tug-of-war
Between my brother and I
It made me feel at home on long trips
Kept me company
On the couch when I was sick

Now where is my
Cuddly childhood blanket?
In a box in the attic
Waiting for once again
When it can be held tight
In the arms of a child
I often wish that I was still a child.
So many things change when we grow up.
Innocence becomes lost,
days become shorter,
the nighttime still scares me,
playing house becomes a game of survival,
boys become men, men become frightening,
I become sad, worried, anxious, and self-aware,
friends will lose their half of the necklace or their friendship ring,
being loved by someone will determine our worth,
I no longer feel small next to the kitchen counter,
but in the presence of everyone around me,
“Forever” loses its meaning,
everyone will eventually leave,
death is no longer a myth,
I will not smile as often as I did,
I will not cry as little as I did,
I will not feel safe in school anymore,
I will not go outside and play anymore,
I will try and pick the imperfections off of
my skin until it is red and bleeding,
suck in my stomach whenever I walk,
work myself into exhaustion,
feel overwhelmed by every task,
have anxiety attacks in public places,
and wish that I was a child again.
I hope you're there the day the rain falls down from earth to sky/
...and I hope you remember..that night we watched the ocean dance with the wind/
and I explained
why the  waves
make love to the leaves
while
still holding the trees hands/
You told me how
You counted
Raindrops dripping
On the wood
behind the window/
Outside..In
The Wild,
Of your childhood-
I fell in love
with the rain, with
You that night.

When I was a boy
I thought that I....../
Held, all things-

                                        I did not.


Now that I am a man,
  I know
How at times instantaneous...
mountains can rise/
between a woman
And a man,
That eclipse the sun,
Yet sets fire to the sand!
AS Jun 27
I can hear it within the voices,
unable to feel proud for those who try.
On the other side of the fence,
they celebrate and dance in glee.
The reason I originally was afraid to try,
as the way you twist to those who take risks.
Not passing at the top,
a failure you rather of not known.
All I hear is the shameful,
fake tone.
Maybe if you gave me your belief,
stopped covertly belittling in the way you speak.
Maybe I wouldn't be afraid to fail,
trying,
learning and growing to the best I can be.
But within your actions,
you create disbelief and anxiety.
Not emitting the support I seek or that this is just another stepping stone to achieve.
The other side of the tree truly believes,
brought to tears by how I've surpassed my troublesome past.
Their voices filled with triumphant pride and joy,
of the way I fought and tried.
Not allowing me to slip by,
seeing the opportunity and the drive inside.
These people make me happy to be alive.
Judgemental side please abandon me or at least fully dettach.
For you have poisoned my roots too long,
which has brought me to twenty seven to find where I belong.
Burnt my leaves in your disgusting pursuits.
Dented my bark,
covering my childhood in upheaval and traumatic marks.
Making me wilt for years,
with the guilt and the monster you let consume the water supply.
Even though my trunk is chipped, with
distance I've found the sun nutritional to my insides.
Growing strong each day,
without the fear of strain or being drained.
Finally I am taking bloom,
no longer buried by the family filled of doom.


© 2018
Abigail Sheard
Below is a link to how I moved to thriving, instead of trying to survive each day:

https://www.reddit.com/r/ThrivingNarcAbuse/comments/8ydqko/the_journey_to_thriving_an_honest_and_hopeful/
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