Written by: Therese Bacha

Can anybody tell me how they get over that synonym,
I am unable to regulate my soul, 
It doomed my thoughts, defeated
my entity, dictated the pleasure's 
off me, to feel the Moment.

Missing, is my unique enemy, 
has haunted me since my 
children left our home, 
dominated my shadow, 
conditioned my brain, 
provoked my tears, 
drowned my vitality, 
created my vindictiveness,  
refusing to be optimistic, 
allowing it to torment my 
darkness, dictated my pain, 
captivated by this unique 
synonym, I sense it's tantrum 
everywhere, how can I omit it? 
anyone can help me? it was always 
there, but I was not helpless, 
I am today. Now

I was born with a heart, I cannot find it, 
I am a bought slave with my own purchases, 
how weak have I gone down the ladder lately, 
how desperate have I allowed to be taken 
for granted by the word Missing, why? 
is aging doing all that? have I become 
so wounded by giving up my strength. 

When I was younger, I had ways to accept, 
to understand, to not allow it to take over 
my few remaining years, I was healthy, 
strong, had aims, was in love, made love, 
I used to go out, now left alone. 

I used to visit my children, I felt alive, 
healthy, even old it did not affect me 
the way it does those days, loosing hope 
of wanting to survive, it engulfs all my 
existence, become so much stronger than 
I am. 
Missing, I am its slave, worst, intentionally, 
allowing it to stab me, it blocks all my doors, 
it imprisons me. I am in prison. Now.
Can someone come and get me?   

I am not drinking, cooking, put make up, 
dress or go out, paralyzed, under its feet, 
no life, I beg like a beggar, I get no answer, 
it destroyed my brain, my thoughts, my surreal, 
destroyed all my tissues, 
negative thoughts are born nowadays, 
weakened my system, my strength 
is drained. 

I am a mother, Oh universe, it leaves me 
breathless, weak, make me strong, I am hungry, 
feed me, I am judgmental, forgive me, no patience, 
angry, I am destroying myself, carry me to the ocean, 
drown me intentionally before I become selfish, 
I stopped being there for my children, I am helpless, 
I need help.
It destroyed who I was, made me despise who I am, 
                       Therese Bacha