Oppressor

Do you know it hurts?
     I want to forgive you and love you again. I want to forget all the ways I was disrespected, the ways I was stretched. But forgiveness won't change a person. I know this, but there were days I couldn't help myself. I've torn my heart in order to give pieces to you when you needed them. I can see the good in you. I want to believe in you, but as I touch that wound, I reopen the memories. It's far from mending. There's no comfort in going back to you.
     I need to heal on my own. I won't heal with my oppressor.

This Be The Verse

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.


- Philip Larkin

untitled 3

A part of me yearns to reach out to her, to understand her.

I shouldn't lose my breath when our eyes meet.
I shouldn't write poems about how her eyes siphon my breath.
I shouldn't itch to see that smile.

Because she is not mine.
She is not someone I should reach for.

My Depression - A Rock and a Hard Place

"I've never viewed my depression as an emotion. And not as something that has an end or a beginning. It just is. It has a shape and a weight. Not jagged or smooth. Not always big and not always small. Somewhere in between. Something hard and solid, like a rock. Sometimes it is as light as a pebble, able to be flicked off at the slightest notice. Sometimes it's ground into flecks of sand, barely noticeable and brushed away as quickly as it settles in. Other times it's a boulder with a crushing weight. One that feels immovable. Something you cannot get your arms around to move out of the way. And, at times, it is a mountain. An impossible obstacle in your path that you lack the energy to trek around, to climb over, or to tunnel beneath. And at the worst times, it may even beckon you to jump from it's summit."





Hall, Megan Kelley. "My Depression - A Rock and a Hard Place". Life Inside My Mind, edited by Jessica Burkhart, Simon Pulse, 2018, p. 177-178

I'm Sorry

It hit so hard.
I pushed it away and tried to ignore it.
Completely paranoid.
I tried to ignore what I was doing to you, to us.
My biggest fear is losing you.
You can scream at me, disown me, cry to me.
I just couldn't watch them take you away.
But what have I done?

I made this worse.
I just want to make you proud.
I want to show you that you raised a strong woman.
But how can I be strong when I can't stand up to you?
I wish I could go back and change something, anything.
Anything to make this better.
I want to take care of you.
I have nothing left, I gave it all to you.

I'm sorry that I let you down.
Hurt me as much as you need.
I'll be okay.
Because I can't lose you.
I'm just embarrassed for you. 

Lost

I'm lost.
I don't feel at home anymore.
No matter where I go,
Who I'm with,
Where I'm at,
I always want to leave.
I don't feel welcome.

I can't go where I use to call home.
I simply refuse,
Even if it hurts.
They ask me why,
Why not just go back?
And without delving too deep,
I say, "Because of what's happening."
The situations that won't resolve.

I'm not trapped anymore,
Like I use to be.
Just lost.

She's Home

She's defiant.
That is the first thing that comes to mind when I think about my mother.
Simply defiant.
Stubborn.
A really private, closed off person.
A big heart, for certain things.
She was raised hard, and so were we.

Her decisions are not always right,
and neither are her intentions.
But we're all human,
nobody is perfect.
I love her regardless of what she decides.
Because she is the glue that holds the brittle family I have left.
Without her, I don't know what I'd do.

A lot of people (majority being relatives) do not agree with her lifestyle.
They frown upon her,
whisper behind her back...

But she doesn't care.
Finger to the world, she doesn't care.
And she'll say it to your face, too.
She simply does not care.
And that's okay.
I have been and probably will be constantly told that, "No, this is not okay. What she is doing is not okay!"

Deep down I know this.
But how can I reject my own mother?
I love her.
For who she is.
Some days it feels like the whole world is against her.
I will fight for her.
No matter what.
Because, obviously, no one else will.