Details |
Pain Poem
|
"Letting Go!"
Behind that garden rail;
Where worms, squirm and roam,
They dig into every worst part of my day.
I feel them crawling, making my hide their home.
They feast on my will, and my dead walking soul.
Slowly I am fading away into a cloud of nothing.
I find myself reminiscing the moment I meet you.
With scars and guilt,
I can’t let go!
I’m cold and miserable inside.
Different emotions, I no longer hide.
I can’t seem to heal the deep cut from within.
Echoes are twisting moods that have no meaning.
I sit, with a jar full of tears, holding on tight.
Afraid of letting go!
The hollow walls slay in every way.
The abyss of a waterfall, resides in my heart
This throbbing starvation, repeats the taste it longs for,
I have no control.
I can’t feed without you by my side.
I won't let go!
by:PD
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
Her paintbrush is a razor,
Her canvas, her wrists,
"I deserve the pain."
She shrugs and insists.
One day the brush will push down,
And it will cut so deep,
That this girl will fall
into an eternal sleep.
She doesn't remember how she started
What brought her interest to this,
How do you discover,
that cutting is your form of bliss?
No one would have guessed that she does it.
No one would have considered this one.
This girl is forever fighting a battle,
that she thinks the demons have won.
Her artwork is all over her,
Her beauty is on her thighs,
and if you look in her old trash,
you'll find her letters of goodbye.
Her masterpiece is quite disturbing,
Her masterpiece is a little gory,
Her artwork is her escape.
Let me tell you her story.
She compares herself to every person,
She is compared to each girl.
She thinks she's hideous,
And there's this boy that is her world.
She was bullied and picked on,
She was teased from head to toe,
Hard to believe that her best friend,
was her one and only foe.
Then later she disliked every little thing,
Her body, face and even her mind,
Soon she saw she was a failure,
and it was just in due time...
That this girl couldn't take it anymore
She'd decided she was done living this,
So one day she went home
and decided to end it.
Everyday for multiple days,
This girl would try to drown,
Hard to believe this girl at school,
never ever wore a frown.
Sometimes she'd just fall asleep crying,
Praying that she'd be enough,
Because she didn't want to leave her family.
She knew about their sweet love.
This girl found hope in small things eventually,
She soon would see this beautiful light,
and find a REAL best friend,
that helped her put up a fight.
Her masterpiece soon was leaving,
Her artwork was almost faded,
and it gave her a sick feeling,
the feeling of being jaded.
She found a boy that actually loved her,
And showed her love exists,
And this boy too had a masterpiece,
placed close to his wrists.
He related to her and she related to him.
She kissed his artwork and said he's not alone,
When she cut herself it hurt him,
Her masterpiece now wasn't just her own.
Her masterpiece effected others,
Her artwork wasn't just for herself,
She now had people,
who saw her cries for help.
And then her family found out,
So then they saw the art too,
to them they were just scars,
To her they were the truth.
She's trying to be okay now,
She thinks she might survive,
Even though they didn't think
to take away the knives.
Copyright © Madison Marie | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
Voice: Jason Williams
***
I danced!
Whirling air around me, particles of sundust
in tornadoes and hurricanes following me in awe
I danced.
Each night I wake and feel my legs
The ones that once carried me and jumped so high
The ones that took me away from a world I didn't want to be in
Creating a dream,
I danced.
The music colouring a world with brushes and pencils
With moves and muscle, practice and pirouette
A world I thought no one could take away
I danced.
When my eyes are closed I dance
My mind paints my body whole and healed
A unicorn, a world of faeries, a galloping horse
A world of dreams, veiled and away from hurt
I live again
I live
I don't dance anymore
But I write. My words, my lines, they carry me now
My legs are useless, my arms and emotions
Carry me
So....
I dance again, in words
I dance.
***
1st Place in contest: Practiced Passion
Sponsor: Frank Herrera
November 9, 2016
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
Coral life forms in copious swarms
feast in the Cambrian chyme,
dividing their cells and forming their shells
to end on the seafloor as lime.
Tectonic churning and magma upturning
renders marble whiter than bone.
The marble is mined, but the cutters are blind
to the angel confined in the stone.
A young sculptor arose, with a bend in his nose
and a transcendent creative spark,
charged with ambition to fulfill a commission,
an angel for St. Dominic's Ark.
An artist sublime who will live for all time,
his genius is to see things not shown.
For an angel to achieve he first has to perceive
its splendor enclosed in the stone.
At dawning's first glow he surveys the tableau
of the blocks the stone cutters supplied.
In some he sees dreams of potential themes,
but only one holds an angel inside.
“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain
as does failing to hear it and see it.”
The block that he chose was rejected by those
who then lied and claimed to foresee it.
With talent and skill he falls to with a will,
surrounded by rubble and relic.
His method you see, for the angel to free
is to remove all the bits not angelic.
Michelangelo’s art for all time stands apart
but there's something further to heed.
For there's a bit more to the fine metaphor
in the tale of the angel he freed.
“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain
as does failing to hear it and see it.”
For in all our insides a bright angel abides
and is just waiting for something to free it:
to remove all the parts which harden our hearts,
to chip out the darkness and pride,
to smooth the rough patches, to polish the scratches
and unshackle the angel inside.
© January 26, 2013
Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
AM I ?
Am I Just Standing Here, or Am I Just Dead?
Am I So Full Of Fear, I Lost Myself Instead?
Am I A Nobody, that you can't defend me?
OR
Am I Just Invisible, and you really don't pretend.
Am I Blind, Or I Just Don't Wish To See?
The Love I Cannot Find Is Right In Front Of Me!
Am I Hearing the Truth,
Or Have I Just Been Deceived?
Who Can I Trust?
Who Can I Believe?
Am I So Mad I Just Can't Understand,
Or Am I So Sad I Need A Shoulder And A friend?
Is It Just Me,
Or Am I All Alone?
***
I wrote this poem 22 years ago
I was pregnant, scared and alone:-(
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
Open eyed, long tearless, foul silvered orbs
have you no pity? The aqua tide rides dry.
Blind staring scorches, accusing twin barbs
who burrow inward, a destiny to decry.
Scattered rendering, puzzled pieces aligning;
"Please mercy has a place, why can't I cry?"
Remove the cataract veneer, stop my pining
"Have you no place for maddened souls such as I?"
Nailed to the boards you see a canvassed psyche
dabbed upon a casein shroud in hues most bright.
"How many lamp lit days will you seek to find me?"
The light betrays me and I live in eternal fright.
Eternities unfold in Lovecraft Tales
upon the silvered side within my eyes; hell wails.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
My shadow flirts with the sun
As I caress the darkness
We are one and separate
As my shadow smiles
Anxiety suffocates me
The shadow will soon fade
I shall die
One happy, one not
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
I'm sitting on the floor
I'm crying so much more
trying to erase this pain
trying to forget your face
sitting here with the blade in my hand
running so slow blood dripping down
in a deep red color
flowing freely the way i want to feel
I'm sitting on the floor
holding my hand out
I'm holding a bottle
a bottle filled with pills
I'm crying so hard
the pain is unbearable
I'm feeling so weak
I'm sitting here on this floor
holding a blade
crying like crazy
trying to take this pain away
I'm trying my best trying to fight
my eyelids feel heavy
my door is so far
the whispered yells to far
falling deep in to sleep
deep..deep..deep..deep
I'm laying on a bed
I'm so confused
where am i?
my throat feels sore
my body screams in pain
I'm looking around
I'm in a small white room
i try to move,
my hands are stuck
i try to get up
i feel restraints
what happened to me?
I'm laying on a bed
trying to get up
my head hurts
a nurse is here
a shot is administered
i drift to sleep
I'm in the psych ward
why am i here?
I'm lying on a bed
laying so still
my wrists hurts to no end
I'm crying out loud
screaming and cussing
my body hurts
i can't remember
all i remember are my bloody wrists
and a bottle of pills
all i remember is the pain i was in.....
Copyright © GRACIE GONZALEZ | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
Daddy
Daddy, why did you go away?
Don't you know I wanted you to stay!
Daddy, when you left mom,
Don't you know you left me too?
Now all I do is cry and cry
--- I want to die!
Daddy, mommy say's it's better this way,
What does she know!
They're not enough band-aids to cover up the blues
Mom's kisses can't heal this kind of pain.
Daddy, I look around
No one stands in your garage
Daddy, You took every tool
Except the hammer and sitting stool
Daddy, I still miss you
--- I love you.
***
Dear Daddy, I'm all grown up now
Haven't seen you since I was 10
Daddy, I sit on your favorite chair,
No longer do I miss the way you caressed my hair.
Daddy, I'm taking the old hammer and this BRAND NEW saw,
It's time to patch all the holes mom punched in the wall
*The day you walked out on us*
Daddy, don't worry about the times I tripped and fell
Mom found someone to fix the loose boards,
Got tired of scraping my knees
Daddy, I finally realized I'm okay,
I agree with mom, it's better this way.
by- Not every dad is great (but step-dad YES!)
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
I stare at my ceiling,
I start to wonder, why am I not healing?
Then it dawns on me,
The nightmare clip starts to roll.
I shake and shiver and wince at every little thing.
I'm scared to death,
What does this all mean?
I start to cry,
I feel as if I might die.
Then I grab my blade,
The tears come quicker.
My breath starts to quicken,
My grip on the blade makes my knuckles turn white.
In the mirror is where I see that my ivory skin is now blotchy and red.
I tell myself, "This may be the last time, if you finally cut deep enough."
So I try my best not to make a sound
As I sit up in bed and hold my wrist out in front of me.
I count to three,
One,
I put the blade to my wrist.
Two,
I start to add pressure.
Three,
I yank the blade across my skin,
It pierces and then I start to bleed.
I suddenly want it to stop,
But there's no going back now.
I wonder why it came to this,
I know nobody cares about me,
I know nobody is going to forget me.
Quietly I say, "I'm sorry."
But nobody is there,
No one will ever be.
I start to fade out of this world,
My addiction would finally be gone,
And so would I.
I was lost,
Lost and angry.
Suddenly, it was gone,
I woke up screaming.
The pain was oh-so real.
Copyright © Mackenzie Lakin | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
THE DEEPEST DEPTHS OF EPIC PAIN
The scars of life unveil the weight of lies,
lest it be the torment of moral sin,
wherein the guiltless suffer wounds and cries
of love’s deceit as heartless notions win.
The evil whims of wicked fancy shows
no mercy for those crossed by hands of fate
when magic dreams are cast by darkened clouds
which turns the morbid sorrow into hate.
In rage of fervor, passions zeal is lost,
oft destroyed by life's dire tribulations,
as sunning rays vacates dawn's gleaming frost
human frailties blind truth's revelations.
Within hope destroyed and life's darkest stain
remains the deepest depths of epic pain.
14th March, 2017
T.J Grén & Robert Lindley
I was inspired to write this sonnet after reading Robert Lindley’s sonnet “Leave This Sad heart, I Can Take No More Pain” and his notes on the sonnet. Due to the inspiration I received from his beautifully written sonnet, I asked Robert to write this sonnet in collaboration with me. I was much honored to work with Robert to complete this poem. Thank you very much, Robert. It is always a great pleasure to work with you.
Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
Love is such a fragile sentiment
So oft confused with sex,
So in our daily double dealings
We render it is so indefinable
Like the faint flicker of a candlelight
That is blown out by our despair,
An intimate venue of self torture.
We add to its impenetrable obscurity
Blowing the flame right out,
Thus our outrageous shadows
Are silently snuffed out.
How easy it is to forget
All our wistful whispers, those
Sweet nothings of past affections,
We no longer trudge the path made up for two.
Forgotten are those bygone days
When we believed that thistledown tufts
Were really friendly fairies in disguise.
We head for a dull and empty living
Blaming everyone else uselessly.
Aren't we the product of our time?
We slam the doors of love in our own faces,
Building woeful walls around us
Painting it with a tinge of misunderstanding,
When we can lead such a colorful life,
Giving our hearts a chance,
Laughing at ourselves.....
And at the moon above.
P O T D 28 March 2017
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
When pain hits hard, you might feel like your soul
is bleeding out, but there’s no blood to see.
Your body is the part that takes the toll,
and physically you feel agony.
Perhaps the pain goes to your heart as though
a knife has sliced right through it, or you feel
it in your gut as if you took a blow.
No cut or bruise is shown, yet it is real!
When both the body and the spirit seem
to reach their limit, tears are overdue.
You have to let those tears go! Let them stream
and carry out the bitterness for you.
An empty tissue box becomes the sign
that soon, and hopefully, you will be fine.
Checked with howmanysyllables.com
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
You hit when I was low
The pain you caused, you know
Threw dust on glitter glow
Made weeds of sorrow grow
Cued pent-up tears to flow
You hit when I was low
You hit when I was down
Made me a freak show clown
Took jewels from my crown
Gave not a smile but frown
Held me until I drown
You hit when I was down
You hit when I was sad
Made good turn sour, bad
Streaked pain into my glad
Bandied words like “mad”
Spilled ink on writing pad
You hit when I was sad
You hit when I was lost
Clueless to what it cost
Flowers: blighted in frost
My sentiments you tossed
My boundaries you crossed
You hit when I was lost
You looked down from on high
Not hearing heavy sigh
Not seeing tears I cry
Not caring if I die
And Still you don't know why…
To you I’ve said, “Goodbye”
Jade
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
Listen to poem:
an impression of the world
stands before me
Left is right, and right is wrong,
and the mirror reflects a melancholy song.
i the mirror
not
the babbling brook,
or
the rippled river
whose images tell harmless lies.
i
the mirror,
who was once held in the
weak, shivering, hands of a life nearing its end
now lay
on broken, crushed bones, crumbs
and i
one thousand shards
the cracks
the jaded moments of my life.
i
an unintended semblance in the raging waters
crashing against the killing rocks of the rushing falls.
never utter the curse
"it can't get any worse"
the serpent swallows the swollen cow,
swallowed - the farmer's wife,
swallowed - her son,
swallowed - the thorny toad,
the black widow spider devours them all!
i the empty frame
the bits and bites of carpenter ants.
my world
a perverse facade
of
what should of been
of
what
is
of
what
was
or of
what? WHAT?
less?
i guess.
NEVER utter the curse
"it can't get any worse"
whose voice
will bring me peace,
whose rapier
will deliver me,
who will
burn my body whole
or
dig me a deep hole
or
throw me void of soul
into
the waters of the screaming ocean
who herself dies a slow painful death.
Dec 20 2015
armand
with a major contribution by
Joseph May
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
I stare at my mirror
So shocked by what I see
There is a strange woman
Staring right back at me
I must’ve been abducted
This must be a crazy trick
For the reflection that I see
Is making me quite sick
Are those horrid wrinkles?
Is that a double chin?
The neck that was my joy
Is pillar like- not thin!
My eyes have no sparkle
They look listless and glazed
It gets so hard to focus
When all I feel is dazed
Maybe it’s just a dream
From which I will awake
For how could that be me?
I’m sure it’s just a fake
I pinch myself real hard
The mirror woman screams
Oh no, it must be true
Now both of us cry streams
Mirror, you’re a traitor!!!
Mirror, this is a crime!!!
I order you to hide!!!
The tell-tale signs of time!!!
Do me a small favor
Tell me a little lie
Reflect a younger me…
Oh please, give it a try!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
A WISH -- In Memory Of
"I Wish"
I wish I could blow air into your little lungs,
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body into this world.
Hold your little body warm,
And tell my little girl you have her cute little nose....
Count your little fingers, and kiss your little toes....
I wish,
I could look into your daring eyes,
Facing a little boy, who's ready for this world
I wish,
I could tell my daughter you have her beautiful brown eyes...
Sadly, it’s not like that.
How can I tell my daughter everything will be all right?
When a piece of my heart was stolen with her's,
When giving birth to her son, my grandson
March 25, 2013---- How it Hurts!
~~~
O’ how I wish, you entered this world crying
Instead, we're the ones left in tears of sorrow
~~~
How I wish you could be,
And not this feeling you left inside
How I wish, God could explain why o' why o' why?
Mostly, I WISH grandma could fix this and make
your mommy feel, the joy she was robbed of.
In memory of my grandson: ---Bael Lesley G.
Born March 25, 2013 --- RIP March 25, 2013
----------
by;PD :-(
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
I never knew following dreams could be this lonely,
But up on the hill, looking back, thank God I'm not the old me.
If the tears will fall, let them be;
I believe this is God's plan, follow your dreams.
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
Love Justice made me wrest you from her bed
It’s right for you to lie with me instead
For you were mine before she came to be
A prowling threat to our felicity
My broken heart cries…JUSTICE!
It’s meant for me to ravish you tonight
To give you pain as well as sheer delight
I love you still and yet your heart must pay
For shameless way you gave my love away
My wounded pride cries...JUSTICE
And here you are inside my bed of love
I’ve bound you up, no more a gentle dove
I take revenge on body and your soul
Enslaved, you yield to dominatrix role
My passion mad cries…JUSTICE
I take from you: I take, I take, I take
Each pleasure filled, I writhe and make you quake
I kiss, caress, and taste in wanton might
Your eyes ablaze, your fervor I ignite
My vengeful soul cries…JUSTICE
And all the while I hear you gasp MY name
In ecstasy my spoils of war I claim
You beg forgiveness as you helpless lie
I satiate my needs; fulfilled I sigh
My hungry need cries…JUSTICE
This tryst was meant to teach you lover's pain
You bear the marks of love that is insane
I slash your bonds and fall in your embrace
For I have seen the wonder in your face
Relieved am I, for I have tasted JUSTICE!
For Justin Bordner’s Love Justice Contest
January 18, 2015
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
Love Notes in a Bottle
It came as a last meandering thought
How could I know?
Maybe a thousand years from now
On a far away shore
Would exist a lady of mystical lore
Reciting sonnets of medieval tales
In magic forests, dreaming of love
As I love
Who could feel a bond so delicate as a doves feathers
A pain so strong, like a tiger wronged
That to part would mean emotional low tides to come
That she could feel the loneliness of night
The scent of the morning dew
The feeling of rain upon ones breast
The smell of the rose
The view of the meadows
The Laughter as the children danced
The plea of one whose heart bleeds
The desires to capture love and yet remain free
Her eyes would show her ageless beauty
Her smile would hide her thoughts
Wrapped deep
Inside of old love letters
She would sigh
As I recited old prose
We would hand in hand repose
Knowing growing old is how it goes
Alas she is but an image in my mind
A thousand years till birth
Or even more
A fantasy, that lets me die in peace
That someone could love as I loved thee
You were my past, and my eternity
Lovers who never took flight
Broken wings, and broken borders
Boundaries never crossed
Kisses though we never lost
On every wind swept shore
I wander with the birds scouting overhead
As wave upon wave of desolation slaps my head
A woman is over there by the sea
She but a stranger in the mist
So not at all is she thee
A thousand years from now
On wind swept shore
Will she be forlorn?
Weeping for the likes of me
Whispering inside, he was here but a thousand years ago
Love letters telling loves desires
Inside a bottle and buried in sand
Alas is the ocean not made of ancient tears
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
I walk and walk, without talking to anyone,
I walk here and there, to avoid their stares,
their scowls, their “poor lady” pity -
Do they know I used to be pretty?
Now I’m just a dirty nothing, dirty whore,
I walk till I can’t walk anymore.
I have no place to be, no place to go.
I sit for a moment when I find a spot,
a park bench, a doorway,
the outer corner of a parking lot
But someone always comes around
and looks at me with that disdainful frown,
I walk. I walk so I won’t get caught
I walk away looking down at the ground.
I feel so ashamed. There’s nowhere I can hide.
I try, though, I try. I stand in long lines
to find a decent place to sleep for the night,
but decent places are hard to find.
I’d rather lie in the dirt at the downtown park
than fear the rats that nibble in the dark
in bug-infested rooms with urine-stained mattresses.
I eat my food real fast, then hurry on my way,
before some men come around
and try to pressure me to stay.
I live in fear for my life every night,
It’s like a fist that hovers over me, constantly,
Like the fist he used on me that day,
my body beaten; the bruises have faded away.
I walk. I walk, to get away from the pain.
There is a church down on tenth and main,
the crowds come once a week to sing,
I see them, but they don’t speak to me.
One time I went inside, sat in the back,
sat there alone, ignored.
They didn’t even see me leave
as they sang praises to the Lord.
So I sleep in a doorway, in an alley down the street.
I’ve nothing but these filthy clothes,
and the shoes on my feet,
and I’m ok with being dirty, let me stink,
I hope I stink!
Maybe it will keep the stinking men away from me,
so I can try to get some sleep, rest my aching feet.
And then, when daylight comes again,
in the sunshine or the rain
I’ll walk and walk ...
to get away from the pain.
Inspired by Tom's "Being Homeless" contest
Facts:
Domestic violence is a leading cause of homelessness for women and their children. (nedv.org)
According to VAWnet.org, “Homeless women … are particularly vulnerable to multiple forms of victimization including forced, coerced, or manipulated sexual activity.”
Copyright © Becca Teagan | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
I have a pain so profound that I cannot name it.
I try to ignore it, but I’m forced to claim it.
It’s a gut wrenching sorrow that only grows
An affliction that absolute misery knows
There’s dejection in every breath that I take
And torment controls every move that I make
Love has abandoned me and pulverized my heart
Faith has done nothing but tear me apart.
My spirit is faded and my soul has turned bleak
I am forsaken by God and all that I seek
Despair has taken over my wretched being,
And blessings are something I’m not believing
My essence is distressed by everything that is
I’m demagnetized by all that the universe gives
It’s an existence of oppression on every plane
Like being institutionalized when you’re not insane
It’s a anguish so powerful my whole body will cry
A ruthless torture that begs my very being to die.
Inspired by Rokeyai Hassen's (It Feels) Like: This Too Shall Pass (Now on PoetrySoup)
Copyright © Kim Hilliker | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
Call me evil
Call me names
Call me
Kiss me on the lips
Kiss my heart
Kiss me
Wrap me in your arms
Hold me within your breasts
Whisper your longings
Touch me with your voice
Touch me with your caress
Touch me
Fondle the thought of forever
Fondle the thought of longing
Fondle me
Dance for the happiness inside of you
Dance to wash away your tears
Dance into my arms
Walk the path of wisdom
Run towards my heart
Kiss contentment
The sword of lust is shining
A dozen daffodils to undress your heart
Flower me with kisses
Call me
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
Sarah’s Story - Mental Illness
Sarah, the “Crazy Lady,” was a familiar sight,
roaming the streets any time of day or night.
Her foul body odor announced her presence,
as she paraded around in her filthy, smelly garments.
Walking barefoot regardless of the weather,
in her state of mind, she couldn’t do better.
Children teased and made fun of Sarah,
reciting ridiculing ditties, adding to the drama.
Behind her a lively entourage would follow,
taunting and calling her names creating a sideshow.
They howled with childish laughter,
as Sarah hurled angry profanities after.
An avid collector of all kinds of trash,
she transformed her abode into a garbage stash.
Sarah’s odd behavior made her fair game,
to unkind people who had no mercy or shame.
While many folks turned a blind eye,
young boys threw rocks and other missile,
at the roof and windows of the shack she occupied.
Behind bushes, they would scamper away to hide,
as Sarah furiously dashed outside,
brandishing a machete, cudgel, or broom,
screaming out curses, damnation, and doom.
Like a cancer, her mental illness had devoured her brain,
and before long, she was officially "certified insane."
Most agreed it was for her own benefit,
and for the good of society to be rid of this "misfit."
But even though she was locked away in an institution,
no psychiatric treatment could cure her mental condition.
When Sarah finally died, she was unloved and alone;
her passing was hardly noticed, and she was mourned by none.
Note: This piece was inspired by a true account. While we have made great strides in the study of mental illness and understanding it, unfortunately negative attitudes and beliefs toward people who have mental health conditions are still common. Thus, as a society, we still have a long way to go to improve our attitudes and to show more caring and compassion for those who suffer from various types of mental illness.
Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Pain Poem
|
I do not always stay on top of the mountain
The room is empty, tears produce no sound
The silence answered with deep thoughts
Grief feels like to drown in the depths of darkness
In my quietest and lonely moments
As the black chords in a sad play
10.06.2016
- Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
- Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2016
|