so much more
the hidden agendas
I found myself in a car that was in a ditch
a night of running towards something
wanting it to end and not wanting it to end
what woke me was cold so cold
I found paper towels and stuffed them in my clothes
i saw my face, my hair tangled, the tear streak face with black mascara mixed with eyeshadow.
You last night chased but let me go onto my destruction
at any moment the car could have flew over the cliff, I was so out of it, drunk no, on drugs no, it was my inner child mad as hell, she was lonely, sad, scared, she felt abandon once again. She was stuck in this body with this woman's body who had no idea what or where to go for help. Little Sally was mad as hell she had the wheel so she was going to take the car up to the 152 and drive as fast as hell, she would be in charge, she could let go of the wheel and end it once and for all, she pulled over or someone did and she knocked out. Woke up in a field, little sally no longer in charge she was tired.
Sally woke up to cold and she was hungry had to pee. Sally needed help and needs to get back to her moms where her two toddlers were. So she looks out and sees a barn. I need to call someone, but who? its not like i had a network of friends the only person was my mom. My mom would not be able to help or so I thought. What a mess, the car would need to be towed and fixed. I see a young man and approach him, he speaks little english but i speak little spanish. He offers to take me home no questions asked no judging just a kind soul who help me quietly. What is a name for this type of individual "an Angel"
You I call and you don't say much only just enough so that you can recover the car. end of story, no one mentions this episode again.
Not my Mom, Not my Husband. I'm alone to deal with my inner child/demon.
Face it you are alone....
Copyright © Sally Zaragoza | Year Posted 2022
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment