Kristin Baker Poet I do not know?

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And my mouth is so dry
So dry that the words coming out of it or like none I’ve ever heard before, don’t
even know if they exist
The crushing experience of what is to come for oneself
I’m so lonesome I could cry…I think I just might 
With such a daring attempt on life, how could one be trusted with such a thing?
Nothing more can be done but to just listen to that lonely song once more
Repeating all throughout the night, the strum of the guitar, and the pain of a voice
singing your life away through the speakers, 
like it was meant for you 
Twirling the ring around my finger out of boredom 
Staring out into the darkness of this room, this strange room, 
this is not my room, no 
Now examining my hands, how small and red they are 
And how cold, so cold 
Another day 
Here it is, another day, another lonely day
Could one even feel as lonely as now? Could one even feel? There seems to be no
reason for the on coming days, they will hold nothing
What is the purpose of waiting for the day to end? For the day to begin?
Is there not one? Not even one? I will wait, right here
Just like I’ve always done
Sitting and waiting for the day to come to where everything will make perfect sense
and there will be no more questioning
No more questioning my actions, my decisions or choices
No more questioning my life or yours for that matter
But for now all I can do is sit here and think, think of nothing
And my thoughts bring nothing but tears and I let myself cry
I let myself tear and fall apart, I let myself scream
And I hope that everyone in the skies and under the ground and everywhere in
between hear me, and for once listen
But a promise is nothing but a guarantee for a broken heart these days
BREAKING NEWS!
I’m breaking, I’m shattered, there is nothing left of me now
I am suffering in a million pieces all about the floor
Do not sweep me up, just let me lay there to cry, just leave me there
At least now you will know where I am, just be careful
when stepping around my pain because it is a live wire
This room, the walls are so pale, just so pale

Written December 17, 2006

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Kristin Reynolds December 18, 2008 at 2:14 AM hi there fellow Kristin with an I! wow, this describes me as a teenager completely. I did all of this, and then some, I still have scars all up and down my arms from cutting them, just to feel anything at all. I ha d a really screwed up, and horribly tragic childhood, filled with death, abuse of all kinds kidnapping,and lies up the ying-yang so I always felt broken. BUT, good news! I grew up, realized my place and my reason for being, and I don't regret a thing that happened. you will be fine :)

Barbara Gorelick December 17, 2008 at 9:00 PM Wow, move over..we could be twins today. I'm so sorry. I really think there is no pain like the one you describe. How brave of you to put it all down like this. BG