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A poem or two...dark thoughts.


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8 replies to this topic

#1
immortal_thin

immortal_thin

    Green Eggs And Ham

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I've written poetry since my teens, I don't remember much of my childhood, but I was always told by my mom that I would be forever writing something.
Yet there is no proof of it anywhere, what I had written... why it wasn't kept, I guess I'll never know. So anyway, most days I jot shit down, and most of the time I amount it to worthless headfucks. I'll add a few more here eventually.

DISCLAIMER:
PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF THIS IS NOT THE RIGHT PLACE FOR THIS CONTENT.
IT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO ANYONE WHO HAS BEEN SEXUALLY ABUSED. PM OR E-MAIL.
kiselizch@hotmail.com
I WRITE IT TO EXPRESS NOT TO UPSET.


A little bit about me before I start, I was sexually abused from 3yrs old, by two different family members. Sexually assulted at 12 and 14 by different men.
There are huge gaps in the picture, out of focus and vague. As my therapist would tell you, I have created a personality with each event and where one person is there, another will endure the assault.
Drug addicted throughout my teens, made several attempts on my life. Basically now, even after years of trying to work through shit, I feel worthless and dead inside. I take sombre retreat inside my head, in isolation bombarded with dark voices and flashbacks that confuse me. I suffer from clinical depression, BPD and PTSD. I am an artist, a writer and a single mother of two gorgeous boys, who are without a doubt the only thread holding me together.
I am 35, yet feel without age, I am childlike still, but with no memory. There is no happy place, just brief moments of survival amongst dark thoughts.

ok, that is probably exposing more of myself than I intended.

Kept
We are tired of hurting,
we want to be left alone inside,
inside where no-one can touch us,
inside where we feel safe.
Our safety, comes at a price,
it costs a lot,
paid by blood, body, mind and tears,
it is paid in full with this life,
we pay and forfit reality,
it will always hurt but it is better this way.
┬ękiselizch2004
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#2
strange_quark

strange_quark

    The Enigma

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I really admire you. That takes courage to say that, and to post your poetry. Assuming that there isn't a triggering issue with the moderators, I would encourage you to post more. I would like to read more of your work. In many ways it reminds me a lot of my mom's writing.

My mom went through/is going through a lot of the stuff you've described. She's diagnosed as MPD (in addition to a few other things), and her life certainly hasn't been easy for many of the same reasons. I'm very glad that your kids as such a strong positive force in your life, and I'm especially happy for them that you are such a strong person to keep going.

It probably doesn't help much to hear, but my mom after more than 15 years of therapy has a pretty good life overall these days, even after everything that has happened. For a long time, we never thought anything would ever get better for her, and everything seemed to always go downhill. Eventually though, slowly, things did get better. Anyway, the only reason I said something was to let you know that I think there is a good chance that things can be better someday, even when you are coming from as far down in the depths as you are coming from.

I wish you good things, and I hope you continue to post :)
faster, faster, faster you run, but no matter how fast you run, you can never leave yourself behind... but there is something worthwhile in the struggle, something that may one day redefine the self

"Man is not so much a rational being, as a rationalizing being" - Robert Heinlein

"There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics" - Mark Twain

#3
indulged_depraved_lusts

indulged_depraved_lusts

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Glorious work I should say. Ones thoughts and feelings must be expressed in writing where you can go back and recall on the thoughts you had that time.

#4
immortal_thin

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Wow, thank you for the replies. I was getting rather freaked out, I never know whether it is a good idea, ripping all the inside out.

Strange_quark, thank you for supportive words and I wish the very best for your mom.
i_d_l, thank you also. Writing is a survival skill at times.

Ok, the writer doesn't have many words today.
Humbled.
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#5
immortal_thin

immortal_thin

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Poems from Feb 2004. They about cutting (SI) so again I ask you read the disclaimer on my first post above.



Liquid Fat.
After the bleeding ceases,
I stare at the white-yellow tear,
it seeps the revolting truth
my essense leaks out.
Liquid fat, like a pearl for plucking,
a pearl for sucking,
taste it and continue the feast,
nibble on it,
make it last for weeks.
┬ękiselizch2004
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tiger.
Do you remember the girl with tiger stripes
under her long sleeves?
Jumpers in the heat of summer?
Recall the glimpses of red,
When she'd get ready for bed?
We would wonder how they got there,
make up a story or two-
stare at them when they turned blue.
Remember thinking there's a story to find
between each crimson line?
In the winter the death would show in them.
I remember her and her stripes
and how much they'd grown,
I remember comparing sizes
and there depths with my own.
┬ękiselizch2004
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#6
arsenic

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Wow... they're all beautiful. And I've pretty much had your life... abused since three by my cousins and steprelatives, and abused by other people in the future... Hell, I even got arrested and put on probation once, for being a victim. I was too ashamed to tell. It takes a lot to even think about that, let alone write about it... And telling others is quite possibly the most difficult thing in the world. Congratulations, Thin.

#7
immortal_thin

immortal_thin

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Sorry that you know this life. Thank you for your words and PM.
My writing can get very dark (actually very dark these days) and very detached if you know what I mean.
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#8
arsenic

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I know all too well. Mine can become the same.
Don't be sorry for me. It doesn't bother me too much anymore. There will always be a part that burns far under the skin, a remnant of memory, a shard that is waiting to cut. But its bearable the times that it doesn't slice through, a slight, annoying scratch that can be ignored.
Be sorry for the people who stay up all night, trying to cleanse themselves of the filth that they feel, their utter self-hatred; the ones who have no ability to communicate these emotions to anybody because they feel too dirty. It's these people that us "rehabilitated" need to assist.

#9
immortal_thin

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What you hear
it becomes who you are
the child only remembers
the put downs
the abuse
she'll feed of it
she'll put it to use
every comment
from brother, teacher, him
will kill her spark
wear her down to thin.
She's an endangered species
she's nearly gone
they'll wonder what happen
where the madness came from.
She's soaked up the threats
from brother, teacher, him
those actions help kill her
wore her down to thin.

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