The CPS or Cordial Praise  Society

We who write, responding kindly,
Are the humble members of
The Cordial Praise Society’s
Appreciation of what others say,
Each in his way, (and naturally, her way as well.)
We do not try to sell ourselves,
And if we’re liked or even loved,
Get or give approval,
We are strengthened to the depths,
Feeling whole.

With no razzmatazz,
Let’s call ourselves the CPS
The Cordial Praise Society
Who push each other to the sky.
Not asking why,
We know it is the best and only thing to do.

The CPS or Cordial Praise Society 10.21.2020 the Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Im not a good poet but I want to get this off my chest.
Maybe this is too much of a blog. If so, I am sorry.
Nobody has to read it!
I don't mean to misuse this service or to make anyone mad.
I am just not good at poetry
But I believe my words have a rhythm to them.

This is a long and boring post.
Making this post is part of my healing
Even if nobody reads it.

I met a psychopath, I don't use that term lightly
He had been in prison for ****** against his 7 year old daughter
A monster and what most people often call a baby ******.

What was wrong with me, that I did not bolt away like a wild horse?
What made me stay? Is it my Tao to be in their spell forever?
I mean the pedophiles that abused me now forty years ago?

How could I have blocked out his crime?
Where was my outrage for the victim?

He is in Seattle, I am in Minneapolis
But we played cards for 7 months
When he showed me his hand,
I suddenly realized who and what he was.
And I was struck with a sense of horror.

Psychopaths are always charming, at first.
They fool a lot of people. He fooled me.
And I can't get over it.

I broke free, galloped away, but had irreversible damage.
I could not eat or sleep. I was on edge.
I felt polluted, I felt ashamed, I felt gullible
It is why I have the diagnosis of PTSD
because my entire childhood was filled
To the rafters with abuse and this psychopath
Touched upon that in a major way.
They call it a "Trigger" in psychology.

I thought I had burned that house down
But my naïveté and poor boundaries led me
From the paradise of my home
To this psychopath's perverse thinking.
What a sick *******.
I can't even describe
how perverse it got towards the end
So I won't even bother.
Why dwell on a psychopaths sick mind?

I was very sick and in a crisis for ten days
When I broke it off with him.

My last email to him was that,
God is real and that he is going to Hell.
He excuses his behavior with
Bible verses.
That's not going to help him
On judgement day.
He also will suffer karma until
He learns his lesson.
Prison was not enough to teach him

Im starting to sit back and take in the lesson
I've decided that for my own safety
I need to get a lot more paranoid because
Baby rapists and evil people do exist
And I have no radar and no set of boundaries.
Because I was abused so much as a child.

I downloaded an App that lists all
The ****** predators near your home
There are a lot of them and some look like
Your average guy, like the pedophiles who abused me.
Nobody next store but in Osceola, 5 minutes away.

And what about Jared Fogel? Is everyone a pervert?
Why do adult ( mostly men ) need to sexualize children?

I am restricting my easy going temperament
He took what was left of my innocence.
My heart is healing and I have vowed
Not to let him or his sickness
To ruin my good temperament.
Nor my Peace of Mind.

Lastly, I realize that it was by the Grace of God
That I found a loving husband
A man who truly cares, truly loves
In a way I never felt as a child.

As an abuse survivor, the statistics
For me to find a suitable relationship
were slim.
But my mother always told me
To respect myself.

But here we are, 31 years together
Or what my science mind calls
60% of our lives. We are 53.

I don't know how I found "the one"
A broken heart is so visceral and
With so much angst that I feel fortunate
That I've been spared that experience.

We met in Martial Arts class
I had met him at age 19 and he asked me out
I took him up on that offer when we were 22
I worked for my black belt in Tae Kwon Do
He was working on his 2nd degree blackbelt
We trained together for many hours
We hung out.
Ha ha, our first date was to see
The Karate Kid! Also plenty of Bruce Lee!
My husband began martial arts because
Of Bruce Lee.
I started martial arts for self defense
Having been abused by so many men
Made me want to never happen again.

Nice trip down memory lane
Back to the psychopath.
I don't have children and
I am not around any children.

I went to the State Fair, and saw some girls
Only 7 years old, like the psychopath's daughter
When he started his predation on her.  
I felt physically ill that a child of that age
Would have to deal with a grown man
And her father, on too of that.
It is beyond imagination.
I was abused at age 11 and 7 seems
Awfully young. Poor girl.

I felt a sense of nausea when looking at these little girls
That I had befriended a ****** perpetrator
Entirely negating his victims experience.
What was I thinking?

I feel almost like I am guilty because I associated with him.
I feel horrible that I had any relationship
With such a dark and bleak soul.

God bless his daughter out there somewhere
She is now in her 20s
His children are in their 20s and I think
When he has grandchildren he might re offend
I need to stop this and have decided
To contact CPS, and write a letter of concern
Every six months until he has grandchildren

It's the very least I can do.
I've taken a personal interest and
I vow to protect his future grandchildren
From ******, a crime he is not sorry about
He has no remorse, he does not repent
And in that way he can reoffend

Let me go back to my life now
It is almost Fall
And the trees will be brilliant
Thank God, that I realize
I need to out much tighter boundaries
Around myself because being gullible
Is going to get me killed

Thankfully I am not being stalked
Thankfully my life is not in danger
Thankfully we live half a continent away

Let me hold my husband's hand
Let me remember what's important
Let me remember that Im safe
Let me recover from the emotions
Of horror and dread, that have kept me
From eating and sleeping.

Im a bit of a yogini
And I do yoga Nidra
I do meditation
I take refuge in Buddha
I have a faith in Christ
These things all help.

Let the heavens forgive me
For ever getting involved
With a psychopath and for not
Giving his daughter's abuse
A second thought.

This has altered my personality
I am now an activist for victims
Of childhood violence.

I will hear their voices in a way
That is healthy and safe.

Safe. A good place to be!

If you've made it to the end of
This post, I give you my sincere
Thanks and if you did not read my post
I also give you thanks.

~Arianna

Were you alive when the
bricks began to crumble
beneath our hand-held, picket line
across the parking lot in front of some
school that no one bothered to name?

Our exhaustion-mumbled whispers
skipping across lips dropping to the street
that tapered ladders on gargantuan gadflies as the summer heat
etched the tear lines into mud tracks against
our ruddied faces.

Cohorts torn into flip stands
layered toward standing political sores --
tell me how to cross my t’s and fill in scantron circles before
the suits step over brown-bag lunches
to stretch the yawning yellow tape over the students’ lockers.

We were strung up the flag pole, almost posted as decapitated heads for the public.
The political analysts call this “The biggest school closing in decades.”

Under teeming hammer-strikes :
glasses shred to paper-splinters
before a young boy’s diploma
crying white chalk bricks
from university’s doors instead on to
prison yard orange jumpsuits.

Can we call this a school improvement project
or can we call this the Same Salem Witch Hunt
As unwashed teachers and students alike deck the sidewalks like
Either Christmas decorations on Michigan Avenue or
Inmates on the gallows platform

I’m completely unable to read the television marquee that told the neighborhood that City Hall was too stuffed with paperwork to defend the mothers and invisible fathers.

I’m completely unable to write out of respect for these children’s already-carved in stone pathway to the gutter, graveyard, and/or prisons.

In the first wink of dawn
We will all scatter
To our respective positions
Carved out in concrete before the
barricades fall
to flood the street.

good
morning
eggs
frying

milk
*****
babies
crying

drool
*****
m­ommy's
dying

In your past, this past
they weren't valued
no one said they were members of the family
what walks on four legs and is furry and cute is only
to last as long as nature intended and then to be disposed of

Veal calves in crates, taken from mothers on the day of their birth
to make more milk for humans, horse slaughter for glue
and foi gras, ducks and geese locked in a vice grip of their cages
metal tubes rammed down their throats and force fed until a liver disease
develops, painful, but given no respite
and served as a delicacy and
fur coats from animals skinned alive right here in America
still when mink farms are outlawed in the Netherlands and  
two million dogs and cats skinned in China every year not to mention
other horrors and no one cared or looked their way because they are
only animals, and voiceless and helpless and no one cared to give them
a voice or advocacy
"that's why they're there, for our use, people still say" who profit from an industry
of suffering

And today, there are people who try to give them a voice and there are veterinarians who will try to help you with your member of the family, as he suffers, in his old age
a bag of fluids hangs from my exercise  bike, and intermixed with my medications
is the painkiller and anti-nausea pills for my dear old friend
whose pancreas is failing
and father, this is foreign to you
you pretend it is a crime
silence is the only thing connecting us now

I hope you enjoyed your last barrage of unkind words
I think you did. The saddest thing I've learned about people like you
is
you feel better after such an attack, to see me reeling, bleeding on the ground
and you feel better, calmer and purged.
A kind of misbegotten peace settles over you
an exploitive peace from another's tears and pain

And yes, father, there were no agencies to give a voice to children
when you were young
no CPS, to aid my nine year old ***** friend
as a code of silence enveloped her attacker
to protect him, the one who destroyed her

But today there is a small brigade of a modern kind of love
to give a voice, protection, soothing to the ones who can
only suffer at our hands and not protect themselves from
our wrath and exploitation

and it is a better world for that, father
for my furry pancreatic friend and for any other
nine year old **** victims here

I used to love my mother.
I wanted to be like her.
She was the person I looked at as an adult.
Today I no longer love her.
Today she is the cause of all my problems.
From my health problems, due to her drug use while she was pregnant,
To my mental problems, both hereditary and from situations she put me in.
My addiction problems, not only because she’s an addict but also from how she treated me.
My eating disorder, because she used to bully me about my weight.
I have problems making friends because she ****** me up so bad I don’t relate to people well.
I’m afraid of being alone with men because of how many times she left me with random men and every time I ended up getting hurt, from as young as 3 ******* years old.
I lost trust in the system because no matter how many times CPS was called she found a way to keep me and my brother, because she’s ****** her way out of every one of her arrests. Including but not limited to, possession of a controlled substance, driving without a license, prostitution, endangerment of a minor, petty larceny, and grand larceny.
I have authority problems because her parenting left me with no positive thoughts about authority.
I’m currently $1,263.21 in debt because she used me for drug money.
I don’t know how to handle my emotions healthily because for the first 16 years of my life I wasn’t even allowed to have them.
And even though she is also a victim of **** and ****** abuse she told me I was a liar and that she didn’t believe me when I told her her boyfriend’s son had been ****** me for years. She stayed with the man and told me it was a family decision about what to do about it.
She didn’t believe me when I told her her boyfriend felt me up while she was away taking care of her dying mother either.
I thought my abusive relationships were okay because she treated me the same way.
She’s why I was a closeted transboy for so ******* long. And when she finally found out I was screamed at me and told me I was a girl no matter what.
My mother.
My mother doesn’t deserve my love or my respect.
All my mother is today is a model of what not to do.

splintered bone marrow
broken, brittle and for a minute
felt something akin to happiness
maybe pain’s what’s been missing
kissing curbs with flintstone lipstick

Girl for sale: scars all over.

Nobody told me scars weren't washable.

Remember being happy? Yeah, me neither.

Called CPS again. No justice made.

Please stop staring at my arms!

You remember being friends? I do...

Do you love me? ...no reply...

My face is up here, stupid!

Tried writing poetry. Failed miserably.

Walking dog. Car. No more dog.

I was driving, and then I...

Where did I put my hope?

There is anger in these thoughts teens r treated like kids but expected to act like adults ***** its not my fault this is ******* having me cleaning up like im a maid's kit but its the same punishment my 18 year old brother gets so am i 18 is all tht maturity supposed to hit i guess since im letting my anger out here and not in a fit cleaning the bathroom washing the floor i hope thts cps knocking on the door you dont trust me on the streets but expect me to hear my alarm when im sleep putting my education at risk all my teachers r goin to be pist but i hve to get bck to being cinderella and cleaning this **** i first thought it was a joke but im not taking the risk

Sitting, staring, suffocating
always feeling so alone.
Words echo in your head
haunting memories tantalize.
Always feeling nervous
or to self-conscious.
Worried of what others think
and say about you.
Words hurt and ****
seeming everytime you get
back up.
You get knocked down.
Again!
Eventually it starts to hurt
especially when your family
joins in.
I seek help!
Calling!
Shouting!
Crying out!
But no one listens
or helps...
When I eventully do get help
it seems like they never listen
or care.
But when they do start caring
i get back stabbed.
Thought I could trust them…
They say they understand
But they dont!
Never will!
Until they experience it for themselves.
Feeling so alone
scared and helpless and alone
laying on the floor
as the blood trickles down
down
down
Seeming it wont stop
But eventually it does.
Thoughts so vile enter my mind
and thats when i cry
letting it out
After years of holding it in
No one understands.
Will ever understand.
Suicide and the knife
Was calling my name…
But i dont seek the courage
and that makes me cry harder.
Thats when i find myself falling asleep
Deeper
Deeper
into the nightmares that taunt me.
Of being *****
Sexually abused
Physically abused
Emotionally abused
Bullied…
I just couldnt take it anymore.
No longer without my sister,
my best friend for life
who died in my arms earlier on.
So much blood
So
So much blood.
It wouldnt stop
wouldnt stop!
Ive lost so much courage
Thought i was strong.
Cant take it anymore.
life is hell
Judgemental
Misfits.
I dont belong
And never will.
Am i good enough?
No im not!
I use to be able to ignore it
use to
but its hard
Easier said than done.
From the time i wake up
Til i go to bed
It follows me
Like a lost puppy.
Im lost in hope
without friends
Or family
Or a mother.
just a father who took me
away from my mother
Cause cps came and
took me away
From my mommy.
i was scared
Confused
Didnt know what she was doing to me
Was wrong.
I was so young
still coping with the loss
Of my grandmother
And my dog
Who were killed right in front of me.
i didnt know any better.
Was so little and frail
And young.
But the past doesnt matter anymore
Or the present
only the future…
Depression
depression
Depression
deep in my bones
And my veins
And feel it in my pulse
And the beat of my heart.
adrenaline kicks in.
More crying
And feeling alone.
Always shuting the outside world
Out!
Not letting any one in
To see the real me
Cause shes gone
its hard to find her
wish i could find her.
Shes lost
like i am now
Always eating to much
or going days without eating.
Too much or too little sleep.
always exhausted.

I'm a foster kid as you know
With no one by my side to stay
I am alone with problems
Great...
I still cut and hide but that's what I'm good at
But let me start at the beginning
I was a gregarious kid who was witty and smart
Then came the day where it all went wrong
A CPS lady came to the house
And commotions came about
There was yelling and screaming
There were tears that were running around
And I had to pack my bags to get out
As you know I was abused in the household and was threaten here and there
But I still loved my mom for she was the only one there
But it was an unsafe
I couldn't stay
She took me away and here I am today
A sixteen year old gal who is living on her own
With no one by her side
With scars on her skin
I say "it's my fault I was taken away" but "it's for the best" they'd say
But she loves me but in reality that wasn't true
So now I hide and no more gregarious as I was before
I'm no longer smart as Im starting to fail school
I'm no longer witty cause there's no need for that anymore
I'm just useless in this world
For no longer I shall stay
For there's no reason to
For I am actually no one

I never even knew I was different. And by different I mean not white.
My mom has green eyes and light skin with freckles. She has brown hair that beautifully sprouts white strands sometimes, but she's never not beautiful. Or never not has green eyes, or light skin with freckles.

I have brown skin. No freckles, and eyes that look like almonds that didn't make it into the bag, in shape and color. My skin is dry. Except my face. My skin is more than one shade of brown, especially on my face. My skin is stretched. Never been tight. My skin reminds me of a potato, not so much "cafe con leche" like my nana says.

I grew up in this white town, with white people, and white expectations. I was never allowed not to act like a child because children of color are barely seen as children. I was never allowed to run or yell like the white kids on the playground because that made me look like I hadn't been "raised right".

I could never sit on the lunch benches outside like the other kids because the yard-ladies would only see my brown skin in the sea of whiteness and only tell me to not sit there.

I could never struggle in academics because that meant my hispanic mother didn't invest in my "academic success" and CPS would show up and ask me questions about whether my mom loved me or not. My mom worked three jobs, and saw us for less than three hours a day. she worked so she could invest in our success.

I couldn't say I was hungry because that meant my family was too poor and couldn't feed me. And then have CPS show up and ask to see the fridge. [I wasn't actually hungry, it's just that  by the time I was 7 I had developed an eating disorder because I had no idea how to cope with anxiety].

I could never not listen to authority because it wasn't teenage rebellion, it would qualify me for special behavior programs targeted towards "troubled youth" and we all know that's code for "kids of color who won't make it past  without being put in jail, being *****, pregnant at least once, or dying-- and by dying I mean killed by the system... choose any system because they're all designed to **** POC anyway".

I could never play in the sun during the summer with my white latinx cousins because the sun is not a brown girl's friend. The sun made my skin dark and made my aunt's hiss about my color to my mom and how she shouldn't let us out without sunscreen because we'd turn into "negritas", and that's what we shouldn't want.

I could never love myself because that doesn't exist when you aren't white. I mean, how do you love a body with thick brown hair, cracked skin, and a nose that doesn't look like Cinderella's?  I mean, how can you love a body that doesn't look like anyone in the new J-14 magazine? I mean how do you love a body that's never seen the sun because she's scared of being too dark because then shes's ugly? I mean, how does a brown girl even love herself?

I'm 7 years old, I'm alone on the playground as kids call me Dora because of my olive skin and short hair. Teachers see but they don't care. I go home, my father is high and beats me to a pulp physically and mentally. It's my fault because I act up and everything he does is father like and gently.

I break down and hardly speak. When I did I was told that I was stupid and to nshut up. I would sit in my dark room in tears, listening to the laughter of my siblings and peers. Dreading the sound of his footsteps that were so loud, they shook the chandelier.

I'm 13 years old, my mental health goes down hill. I'm angry, violent, in need for attention, making up lies, pulling stunts and finding myself in detention. I'm a teenager now and too hormonal so I'm always getting the belt. I speak to counselors and CPS. But my Father "loves me". I receive no help. I'm just a troubled child and a mess.

I'm 16 years old. My parents divorce. Life gets better then takes a turn for the worst. My dog passes away at the age of seven. Her being my only support, wishing I could join her in heaven. No one understands the loss I feel or the anger I display. I endure the silence of my room, the only thing I have left of her is her collar and the memories she gave me of when I was smaller.

I'm 17 years old. My boyfriend of 3 years drops me out of the blue, I find another guy who's new to replace the hurt. It went from laughter to walking on eggshells. He would make accusations and jump to conclusions, leaving me in a state of confusion. I'm trapped and made me question myself. I couldn't leave, the attention I was receiving was my self help.

Months later he leaves and sets me free. I celebrate, yet feel alone because love is what I need. I'm online sending naked photos to men I'll never meet, thinking they'll fall in love and run away with me. This is how I dealt isolation and misery.

I'm 18 years old, last year of high school. My "best friend" turns on me like a snake. The school leaves me stranded in her constriction. I'm a wreck to the point where I want to end it all in my bathtub. I stop myself, realizing that this was not the answer. I continue my days in despair. Knowing it was just me against a world that couldn't care.

I'm 19 years old and I say that I had enough and seek therapy. It helps with my emotions but not my home life. Waiting for life to pick up, I continue with strife.

I'm 21 and we all get evicted from where we live and have to stay with my grandparents. Who would not hesitate to shank my mom with a shiv if they could, but this is how I had to accept life in a toxic environment and not as I should.

That same year I get to move out and be on my own. In an apartment in the city most known. I meet a man one afternoon in late June and before you know it I'm pregnant and we're over the moon.

Six months pass and the lease is up. And he has no interest in renting a place together like I'm a waste of space. I move into a shelter not realizing the choice I made was a huge mistake.

The house mom nags and nags, treating me like I'm five. I spent hours and hours waiting for my boyfriend to arrive. But she prevented me from seeing him, I was again alone. Third trimester pregnancy and I'm doing back breaking chores under her force. I'm carrying heavy objects and a baby inside me like a horse, and I'm in pain.

I wanted to move but had nowhere to go, my boyfriend got into drugs and he's absent. I have no comfort from anyone because they don't understand, I'm suffering but doing what I can.

A monster of a girl moves in. She steals and hurts my infant son. No one believes me and thinks I'm wrong doing. I'm there for most of the year and her only three or four, I'm the bad guy and they like her more. I'm being framed for things I did not do, she and the house mom were the perfect two. We fight and I get kicked out!

Instead of being devastated, I leave and life took me to a better route. Trauma stays the outcome pays off.

I'm now 23 years old. I live in a beautiful apartment that I worked hard to get. My son is now one, the year came and went. Life has been peaceful and we're happy as ever. At night, I look at the sky and remember that every single traumatic fight, mental scar and slaps to the face. Lead me to where I am today. That I'm not a failure or a disgrace. Life has trails and is not a speed race.

I am sitting here
Almost two full years later
(One week until to be exact)
And I still can't get you out of my head
It's late night phone calls that flood my memory
Like 12:46 AM
And You saying things like
"Please go to sleep, it's so late,
And I don't want you hurting in the morning"
And
"If I say something really sweet--
Well I think it's sweet, at least--
Will you go to sleep"
Then
"I want to be your first kiss"
But B, that's just who you are
You're the divide and conquer kind
It's little lines like
"I owe a penny"
And a competitive
"Well, I owe 100 pennies"
That make me want to cry
It's references to songs
And wanting to end my self inflicted scarring
When in reality
You are a part of that collection
It's that 11 PM call
Where you "met" my mother
If we could even call it that
It's two days later
And the first "I love you"
And me almost crying as those words
Tumbled from your mouth
I believed it all
I believed in you
But then it became
"You're a great girl
But I don't think this will work"
I waited for two weeks
Before making a mistake and coming back
I didn't think it was a mistake
When you asked for a date
Of cuddling on your uncle's couch
Because you just got your license
And wanted me to be first in your car
It was supposed to be teriyaki and your favorite movie,
Hercules
And you wouldn't have cared if I sang along
With every single song
Because you loved the idea
Of a private screening
Not in a ****** way
But of course,
You were a sixteen year old boy
You wanted ***
I can't believe I actually thought about it
And the simple words that
Made me believe it could happen
"Of course I'm upset, Silly,
I didn't get to see my girl"
A few days later the silence came
Because you decided
You couldn't date me because I attended
The school of your past
But you decided to date her
A character of the past attending your school of the past
You even convinced her to runaway with you
When CPS pulled some ******* moves
With your abusive father and standby mother
I could've been that girl
I could've loved you forever
I remember December
When you told me you'd found God
And tried to help convert me
You were the only one I'd let call me
"Sammie"
I've always thought it weird that
You were allowed to flirt with me
But it couldn't be me flirting with you
Even with your migraine
And my offer to give
"All the pennies in the world to make it all better"
I learned that's because you'd leave
Three days later
I waited **** near a year
Before reaching out to you again
With a letter drafted
A total of
Twenty-eight times
Because of an English teacher
Encouraging thanks
You replied and I filled with hope
Only for you to ask me to stop talking to you
And your friends
Even though Matt is my friend, too
But before leaving again
I was aware of the biggest backstabbing
In all of history
You were back with the friend I was defending
That brought us together
That made fun of your invisible genitals
I cried mercilessly
And ran to the bathroom
Throwing my body against the wall
Almost breaking my fists
Then I cooled off
Walked to the floor where
Bailey and I were dining
She on a turkey sandwich
With cheese, mustard, and olives
Myself on a buffet of tears
When I saw a tall figure I somehow knew was you
Signing out
She thought I was delusional
But when she turned
All she could say was,
"Samm...that is him"
And I huffed up my chest
Stuck up my head
Dried my eyes
And bit my lip
I held it together for a
Full five seconds
After you walked out the door
And I ran faster than I'd ever run before
Faster than you'd ever run before
Even with football before your shoulder
And bashed a dent in that concrete wall
You tried to contact me
January of this year
We talked for a bit because I'm stupid
When it comes to the past
But then I called you a *******
And you left
I didn't talk to you until May afterward
Before Cole broke my heart
But B,
*******
Please stop haunting me
Please leave me alone

That glimmer in his eye
The charm in his walk, his talk
It was a curse
Didn't you notice his broken finger?
3rd one on the left
That was a present from his mother
No Doctor called at 6 years old
When the trunk slammed down
The remedy was olive oil
No CPS was called back then
They called him tough, brave and strong
But really it was a curse

Your smell has stained my memories, burning into my fragile skull never seeming to fade.
As a small child I thought it was pretty and striking, now I see the cheapness in your perfume, and your loathsome words.
It is a tragedy, it is selling yourself, late night visits from strange men, and plugging your ears to block out the screaming.
It is drug needles, crack pipes, living out of cars, growing up too fast, and lies and lies and lies.
When I smell it now everything comes back in flashbacks and vivid nightmares. A monstrous wave of past events, emotions and experiences still so vivid it hits me and knocks me off my trembling feet gasping air into my damaged lungs.
It is methadone clinics, cigarette burns, broken words, glossy eyes, cleaning up for cps, countless arrests and lies and lies and lies.
Despite its damage, despite its tragedy, I'd do anything to be wrapped in it again, small and unseeing of your faults.

So full of hope and innocence at four years old.
Always a good girl did as I was told.
"Come here sis lets play a secret game"
All I felt was shame.
Told "its our little secret mom and dad can't know"
Trying to hide my tears not letting them show.

Withdrawn 6 year old doesn't speak her mind prefers to be alone and read.
Sisters boyfriend "come here I know a fun game but don't tell your sister its our little secret "
Screaming NO in my head but no words come out. I comply to his wishes and pray for it to be over soon.

Sexually confused 8 year old practicing what she learned with friends. The little secret continues.
friends brother caught us and joined in but he wasn't kind.
"If either of you say anything about this I will **** you both"
Having to hide the bruises from my parents was difficult but successful.

****** abuse became the norm for the 14 year old who started letting boys play with her so they would like her but they always left her behind.

By age 16 she wondered why they only wanted *** and why noone wanted to be with her .
She started to wonder if it was something that was wrong with her. She tried harder to make people like her .
But she found out they only wanted ***. So she started using them instead .

By age 18 she was so sexually active that people called her easy and a **** and that's when she realized she didn't even enjoy ***. So she gave it up for new years resolution

At age 19 6 months without *** met someone we talked for hours.
Instantly became friends and then at the 11 month mark I broke my no *** rule.

20 and pregnant scared not knowing what to do everyone telling me to marry him cuz its the right thing to do so my child is not a *******.
So I convinced myself I loved him which I did have love for him but he hadn't earned my love yet

21 alone with a daughter with no clue where her husband is decided to go to college.
Husband shows up on daughters birthday when he hadn't been there all year and decides to ****** me unfortunately it worked and I was pregnant with child number 2.

22 on bedrest complications with pregnancy husband nowhere to be found. I had to pause school.
Got better went back to school.
Gave birth to a beautiful little boy. 6 weeks later my husband welcomes another son.
I filed for divorce.

23 graduated from college.
Got divorced .
Found hand mark on son my daughter said other mommy did it.
I filed a report and then left the state so they couldn't hurt my children.

24 started work as massage therapist. Loved every second of it.
Stopped for a hitchhiker on way home, we talked the whole way it felt like our souls connected.
He stayed and we started dating ,
Everything was going great he even got a job. But then I got pregnant and he showed his true self an alcoholic. I told him he couldn't stay if he didn't give up drinking so he left .

25 pregnant ready to pop trying to get ahold of the father. Finally his sister convinced him to be apart of the birth.
He came back waited on me hand and foot for 3 weeks till our son was born. Then when our son was born convinced me to take him back.
The rest of the year was good and bad he went to jail twice and it was cuz he was drinking behind my back

26 a decision on my door step in form of Cps making me choose him or my kids.
I chose my children.
But sadly it didn't stop there he repeatedly tried to convince me to take him back .
It wasn't easy to stand my ground but I said its either the alcohol or us he said us but chose the alcohol.

27 a friend asked me to house their friend I said I would.
He slowly weaseled his way into my pants and then said we were dating, I stayed silent.
After awhile he showed his true self angry lazy gamer that picks fights over not getting his way.
Kicked him out but both him and my sons father harassing me.

Ex husband wanted joint custody and wanted the children to live with him for the year I said "not without me there"
So me and 3 children moved in with ex.
He was acting like he was trying to be a good father but unfortunately what I didn't know was that he was abusing my children while I was at work and made my children repeat his lies.
I was taken by surprise when Cps contacted me telling me what was going on.
Before I knew what was happening they took my babies.

28 years old
Just got new job new house and doing everything they asked me to do. Listening to the caseworker.
Asked caseworker what I had to do to get my kids back she replied "you must admit you failed as a parent"
Caseworker refusing to place my children with family because foster parents want to adopt.
My children constantly telling me that they don't like the foster parents crying and throwing fits when it was time to leave also taking off saying "Please mommy don't make me go back!!!"

Foster parents wanted me to use their parenting style and use their rules.
One rule was "no touching"
Foster parents upset at me for playing with my kids. I fake wrestle with them and they use me as jungle gym.

Took my visits away because my daughter tried running away to my house.

29
Working long hours saving every penny.
Rarely getting to see kids.
Wrote letters to every state officials that I could find no one would help me.

Caseworker lied to me every time I talked to her.
After complaining 6 months she was finally removed but she got to keep her job and testified against me saying that I had it out for her and that I worked against her which isn't true she had it out for me and constantly lied to me and my family.

30 present
Parental rights terminated

Crying on my sons 5th birthday because I couldn't wish him happy birthday.

A ten year old girl with a story to be told.
She was alone with no one not a soul in the world. Her mom didn't care, her dad went away. Life to her wasn't fair, no one to tell her it's going to be okay. Til one day the voices in her head said "Go ahead, pick up that blade." "You want the pain gone? It's the only way." The voices would get louder and louder and she would just cry harder and harder. Then a ******* shadow came and sat on the bed beside her. His aura made her feel at ease much better. He made her feel safe alot more stronger. He promised he would never leave, he would stay forever. Same girl, now 16 years old still with no one but drugs rocked her world. She tried to, but couldn't hide her self harm. Scars running up and down her arms. Still the same ******* shadow never leaving her alone. Same girl, now 21 years old. Now with a baby feeling all alone. She met a boy who asked "Hey, would you like to date me?" But sadly always made her ask her self "Why does he hate me?" This boy drove her mentally crazy, and because of him CPS came and took away her baby.  Then after that, he left her for another lady. Same sad girl now 24 years old instead of a blade to numb her pain puts in her arm a needle. Still the voices always get louder and louder and she just cries harder and harder. The ******* shadow whispers "I told you I  would never leave you."

An actual headline I read today...
"I'm a good parent!  CPS has been called to my house over 20 times, and never found anything"

She runs amok without restraint
In pursuit of the high,
The thrill of the chase.

She's up for a cigarette
And down several pounds.
You'll find her naked outside the house.

They can force medication
But can't treat denial.
The CPS case is going to trial.

Her bipolar diagnosis
Remains hard to accept,
But stability is better than manic distress.

She could lose it all quickly.
No time for delay
Lest she face an endless stream of regret.

I understand her pain,
For I've walked this road too,
But with the right help she can make it through.

I hope she'll make haste in  her recovery,
That she'll see on the other side
Is a taste of what it means to be alive.

I have dependency issues.
I imagine
to my friends,
This will come as no shock.
But I’ve recently begun to understand
How  I cling to the people in my life desperately
As if they were my only lifeline
And how unhealthy it is
it leads to overstayed welcomes
and long hugs (that they don’t enjoy)
I send late-night texts trying to confirm that they care about me

My mom never really gave a ****
Even the times it seemed like she did were just to bring
down the impact of her manipulative behavior

To normalize my abuse

it worked

She only slapped me twice
But she taught my brother how to hit
so much harder

I never realized there was anything wrong
I thought this was what everyone lived with.
I’m still so used to taking care of myself.
That I have a hard time
Admitting it’s my parent's job

“I’m 14, I can handle myself”

that’s how I tried to convince CPS there was nothing wrong
After I told a teacher that
I should be kept away from high places

It was a joke

When my earth is crumbling I shade my sun with a red and blue moon.
I hope the hues of comedy
will mix to form a perfect periwinkle
But instead the contrasting strands tie me in a
mismatched world of juxtaposed emotions

Ups

And

Downs


Gas-lighting teaches you a binary world
I see no nuances of gray
Sometimes the whites, and bright vivid colors can be alluring
But the pitch-black is inescapable
And every time I see it coming
I cling to any affection I can
The moment someone gives me attention, I fall for them
Just in time for them to lose interest in me
Leaving me perfectly ready
to crumble to a  
m i l l i o n    p i e c e s  
at my next obsession’s feet

-4:00 am Thoughts

I apologize for what I'm about to say
if you're sensitive to language, I speak not with the intention to do harm
but to reflect pain.

Heavybag's fallen
knuckles only started to trickle with blood,
my new self-flagellation ritual interrupted
coitus, denied, the penultimate inspiration served
with every swing a flash of the past invoked
in my borderline personality crossing rage
bipolar seeming on a stable day, and I see
the nervous breakdown, these teachers
sanctuary for you, to me they say
**** yourself ******
hey, come over here and deal with this
dismissively
I keep my head down, a higher dose the next day
apathy, numb to stigmas, stigmata on my soul
martyrdom they beg of me
an inconvenience and how timely, they jokingly
say go on Tom, shoot up the school
**** yourself, you fat ******* ******
you *******, ******,
**** yourself ******,
I've been called that more times than my own name
by a long shot
all I ever wanted was to do what I was there for
then to not be there anymore
and I used to salivate as early as middle or intermediate school
at jumping off the roof, but I realized that it was too short a drop
so I recalculated, I decided on a ripcord, the train
**** yourself ******, if I do, that'd have been how I did
and I defied everyone by clinging to the only thing they couldn't take
they couldn't violate
and they did take and violate, they robbed my home,
I was beaten, *****, I keep it all bottled up
I couldn't tell anyone because all they'd say if they knew a boy ****** me was
**** yourself ******
so, I let him **** me several more times until I snapped
a tree branch over his throat
so, I clung to breath out of spite for all of them
and as soon as I could I committed their faces and names
to an infinite pit, I granted myself the greatest mercy of all
I let myself forget

Teachers never looked twice, if they did it was like
watching daytime television
no lesson plans, no structure, I remember them
sneering at me for being there, for being called names in their classroom
for being nervous, overweight, clumsy and awkward, uncomfortable
and scared, and then being mad at me when I skirted truancy laws
CPS, investigating me after my dad stopped beating me, when
I could've named a dozen houses where kids were still getting beat
and the **** cook's grandson who showed up late from the lab
and the drunks who showed up with the flasks, the rednecks with the tobacco dip ring in their pockets
I was so ****** on an overdosage of poison that it damaged my liver and I had to stop it
but that didn't change the reality I was supposed to ignore, I still saw it
in hindsight, I wish I was blinded, then I might have turned out alright
I know they'd probably just have led me to the tracks and left me there to **** myself
assisted suicide for the outsider, moved into town before they put up the first stoplight
but, sure, teachers do their job, if that means they said, just sit down shut up
watch a movie, play on your phone if you got one, do this quiz so I can say you did something
read a textbook, I don't give a ****, I'm gonna be over here and if you interrupt
**** yourself *******,
that's how it was, I never questioned it, because it always was like that
I never asked how it was elsewhere, I didn't think I'd live past 17
or past 18, or 21, or 25 or 27 so I'm really in uncharted waters now I'm almost 29
and no codependent relationship for me to abuse, just drugs

I talk to you
and you might think that means you, it doesn't
it means the paper, me and you
we've got our own thing, I don't need anybody else
this is what got me through
my first and only love, the thing that I lassoed my heart and identity to
that nobody else can take credit for giving me, I found it myself
dug it out of my skin and bone and muscle and sinew
and cultivated my own interests in it, forged every fiber of growth
over every year, every second every minute, I took the energy burning me up
every time I saw disdain, dismissive, disrespectful, belittling, hatred and inconvenience in someone's eyes
impatience for my still being here, still being alive, and I turned that into notebooks full of chicken scratch handwriting
my learning disabled hands could manage it, nobody gets to own this, not one lethargic **** teacher who didn't raise a finger to the board
when the kid whose dad owned the car dealership was running me down, or the football team, or the cheerleader was threatening to **** me
but when someone claimed the same on my name they sent me to the office and I had to sit there, knowing it was useless to protest
I did my ******* best, I never let these people make me violent,
when they wanted the worst of me, I wrote it down,
defied them to fight me, stayed silent and turned every
**** yourself ****** into a story, a poem, an idea, anything creative, just anything that was something
more than that repulsive reaction, get over yourself *******
I'll die when I'm good and ******* ready

Bag fell off, gloves off,
barely a trickle of blood,
barely a tickle
no air circulating, stagnant and stale in this summer heat
there's nothing on the table, but the dog could eat
hand yourself a victory, hand over fist pat on the back
and at this address leave defeat
I don't care, who wants what if anything
what you think, I don't want to know
just keep it to yourself, I don't care
just leave me alone, goodbye touring these last few walks
shaking fingers tenderly touch memory lane, caress the stalks
and with each punch I've thrown, exertion grunt and groan
I let spit fly through my teeth, a rabid dog beneath
biting, reminding, flashes, each landing blow, **** yourself
rooftop, train, pills, parking garage, gun
I hit him harder, harder and harder
tail between his legs, his carcass is thrown
standing, heaving, desperate fear, anger quivering in my eyes
I snap and snarl at this specter of myself, to just leave me alone
you don't have to be gone,
just be quiet, god help me, just shut your barking mouth
stomping the throat of this animal expelled,
I fall back into myself, an escalated conflict of spirit
elevated into frenzied panic, the need to hurt
without reason, I delve, don't make me remember
I seal them away, superstitious of their nameless, faceless
demonic hold, in jars in my head, these mentors, these helpers
teachers, there is hardly a worse word

I want to go away
to a quiet place
I want to become a quiet place
where I can let go of all the noise
and be quite okay
life does not excite me
I do not anticipate it
if all my life were writing, then maybe
but living alone is a task greater than this
and I do not know what I want, but more
more than the peace I've seen this can offer
so I search, in other places, finding myself
right
back
here
I want to be content, at peace
and so I write, I feed my spirit, body, heart and mind
but I am given to darkness, foreboding ominous evil
acts of malice and treachery, betrayal of the most intimate trust
and even the best efforts to keep myself leashed only serve as a noose to me
so I try to distance people, and isolate with the best intentions, finding myself
right
back
here
and sooner than later I will complete this tour,
say goodbye, this confessional, it is not poetry,
you do not understand that it is, expression is
and you can do it, let your red setter loose with wandering ennui
speak your displeasure with today, rewrite history, in your closing set
circle back around like those teardrop vultures over the mausoleum gallery
and come back to me, for I will be
write
back
here.

I'm sorry to myself for apologizing more than you do when you're the one who should be apologizing.

But you probably don't even remember what you should apologize for since you were drunk now that I'm realizing it, so I guess I can't hold you to those.

I'm so emotionally and mentally exhausted of always being the bigger/more mature person with someone I should feel is my partner in this rocky life.

I've always felt like the rock in this relationship.

He sometimes has, but I always have been.

Just when I trust he is, he falls into his lying (about his addictions) and addictions again.

It's draining not to have someone very emotionally dependable.

I know its not his fault.

He has addictions, and mental troubles of his own.

So I never hold him to it, but I am personally feeling the weight of his meanness, his hopelessness.

And to know I can't stop being someone's rock or else they'll break even further than they already have when I already feel like I've broken and need help of my own is getting to be too much.

And I can't get help because I'm worried if people (a therapist or something like that) know he's an addict and I need help with my anxiety again someday CPS might check on us and see if he is a fit parent (if we ever have kids-that's a whole other discussion).

I feel stuck.

So, so stuck.

I don't know what to do anymore.

If he wouldn't get so angry with me I could deal with this so much better.

If we could fight this as a team.

Instead of me fighting for/against him.