Anonymous
There’s a fire burning within my soul,
A fire of hurt and anger,
Your words eat at my inside,
Destroying me softly.
You promised things had changed,
But you were wrong.
I want to let this go,
But it feels impossible.
The weight on my shoulders was being lifted,
Now it’s heavier than ever before.
The tears are in my eyes again,
All I want to do is hide and cry.
You say you love me,
That I’m your princess, your míja,
Yet you let the poison enter your body,
You gave in.
If you really loved me,
You’d stop,
Find a way to be you without the poison,
Then these wounds would heal.
You ask if I love you,
And of course I say yes,
But my words are empty.
I am five again,
You ask that question,
“Do you love me?”
I’m afraid of a trick question,
You tell me you hate me.
This memory haunts me forever,
Then to the tears you shed,
My heart breaks even more.
You tell me I should just kill you,
That my words would kill if they could,
But yours have been killing me for years.
If words can kill,
What about the knife you had?
Not only was I,
Your mija,
In danger constantly,
But my mother was too.
If you loved me,
You would have put the knife down.
The words that come from your mouth are like knives too,
They cut at those around you.
Things are going to change,
You will hear me and listen!
I will not be that little girl you hurt,
I am a strong young woman,
One who can love herself,
One that can see beauty.
You can no longer call and hang up,
You won’t push me around!
The difference between the two of us is that I won’t destroy myself!
I love myself because I know myself,
That I refuse to poison myself like you and those before you.
My strength may “hurt” you,
But I’ve been hurt for so long,
You have to see it come out,
To come out as strength.
You can never disrespect me or my family,
Never tell me you hate any of us.
These words may come out of your mouth,
But with these words leaving,
So will I.
A part of me will always love you,
But I will not take it anymore,
No more knives to my soul,
These wounds are going to heal.
Maybe we can love each other again,
But until that day,
Your míja is no more.
A fire of hurt and anger,
Your words eat at my inside,
Destroying me softly.
You promised things had changed,
But you were wrong.
I want to let this go,
But it feels impossible.
The weight on my shoulders was being lifted,
Now it’s heavier than ever before.
The tears are in my eyes again,
All I want to do is hide and cry.
You say you love me,
That I’m your princess, your míja,
Yet you let the poison enter your body,
You gave in.
If you really loved me,
You’d stop,
Find a way to be you without the poison,
Then these wounds would heal.
You ask if I love you,
And of course I say yes,
But my words are empty.
I am five again,
You ask that question,
“Do you love me?”
I’m afraid of a trick question,
You tell me you hate me.
This memory haunts me forever,
Then to the tears you shed,
My heart breaks even more.
You tell me I should just kill you,
That my words would kill if they could,
But yours have been killing me for years.
If words can kill,
What about the knife you had?
Not only was I,
Your mija,
In danger constantly,
But my mother was too.
If you loved me,
You would have put the knife down.
The words that come from your mouth are like knives too,
They cut at those around you.
Things are going to change,
You will hear me and listen!
I will not be that little girl you hurt,
I am a strong young woman,
One who can love herself,
One that can see beauty.
You can no longer call and hang up,
You won’t push me around!
The difference between the two of us is that I won’t destroy myself!
I love myself because I know myself,
That I refuse to poison myself like you and those before you.
My strength may “hurt” you,
But I’ve been hurt for so long,
You have to see it come out,
To come out as strength.
You can never disrespect me or my family,
Never tell me you hate any of us.
These words may come out of your mouth,
But with these words leaving,
So will I.
A part of me will always love you,
But I will not take it anymore,
No more knives to my soul,
These wounds are going to heal.
Maybe we can love each other again,
But until that day,
Your míja is no more.
I am the daughter of an alcoholic, and though I don't live with him, I am trying to work on having some sort of a relationship with him. This poem was written after one of our fall-backs and was my way of releasing the pain that I felt.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Accepting"
Anonymous
Anonymous
accepting
the news
that our mother
had died
we
began
to sort through
her things
the small
insignificant pieces
gathered
through
a life
of frugality
in hopes
of finding
something
new
or
unknown
but alas
each
item reinforced
the known
the familiar
that which we had already sensed
but would not admit
our mother's
treasure
stored
was
love
the news
that our mother
had died
we
began
to sort through
her things
the small
insignificant pieces
gathered
through
a life
of frugality
in hopes
of finding
something
new
or
unknown
but alas
each
item reinforced
the known
the familiar
that which we had already sensed
but would not admit
our mother's
treasure
stored
was
love
