A series of poems tackling the mind of their trauma and the thoughts that linger at night.
Written by Anonymous
It wasn’t until she was alone in her living room
That he realized it doesn’t go away that easily
To be in deep with her thoughts and come across her demon again
Just as he thought that the gate was once closed
She faces the gate wide open and must walk through the long path again
With no hand to hold
And no light to guide
He is blinded by his own disguise
With the screeches getting louder, she flinches every step
Like the thorn on the rose
Something may seem so beautiful but with every stroke
The blood dripping from the thorn is the same that has kept us torn
The pain is endless, although it seems to stop
You and I both know
That alone in our living room
The gate had never been fully closed
MY BIG FAT WEDDING
Engagement comes first, then comes marriage
Long white road up ahead
Smiling and crying figures
Next to me is an angel
Angel you may presume Him
But that was once a demon I had overcame
I continue to overcome
Life choices coming at me
Certain ones a Mother can’t answer
Who do I then ask to walk me down the aisle
Who do I then ask for a dance
A figure I once presumed as my Savior
Is now a figure I playback in my nightmares
Was he meant for me?
Will you threaten him when I bring him home?
Will you remind him of your protection?
At how shiny my ring is
He’s the one, I know it
But how can I be reassured if you aren’t there to tell me
I will continue to dream of the demon I’m overcoming to walk me down the aisle
At my big fat wedding
Daddy’s Little Girl
Daddy’s little girl ran into his arms
when he came back from work. Her body embraced instead of rejected.
Her protection- his priority until she begins to grow up.
Daddy’s little girl was once writing this poem.
Daddy’s little girl was neither little nor girl.
Seen as an independent woman too young
to be abandoned. To grow stronger.
To be sacrificed to depression when things go awry
in the face of self-esteem. When dad first left
little girl had her mother.
Dad left again and she still had her mother. She refuses
to cry with her. Hiding in the bathroom with the other
daddy’s little girls. They offered the love of their dads she didn’t
ask for. She mocks me for believing he will come back. I stopped
believing for her but my words continue to believe the way they were born to.
Daddy’s little girl next door is praising the car he got her
to the little girl who was never taught to drive.
The other little girl is my sister, she is still her daddy’s little girl.
The next little girl is waiting for her father to call back as he promised.
Sitting on the couch. Waiting for the sound of the phone to ring
so that she is first to answer. Trying to contain her excitement
while she is still whole. 4 years later, she is still waiting.
I feel alone
I hide my feelings well but am I at fault for wondering that if my loved ones really knew me,
they will know…
I look outside my window from the ninth floor
It's all a mirage
Hundreds of windows
Full of stories
I wonder who else is looking at the bright red hotel sign
How did we get here?
I expect too much from others
For them to check up on me
Tell me they love me for no reason
Just one time where I don't have to feel that I need to take the first step to feel loved
I guess you can say I'm at fault
I am always at fault
I'm a villain in your stories
I'm a nuisance in your tales
My image precedes me
I wonder who I am to you, my dear reader
I am just a mere imagination of what you have heard of me
And although I am what I am
I hide what I hide
And I act how I act
I still lay up at night, soaking my pillow sheets
Do you really know me?
Am I really loved?