Honestly
honestly, it’s been difficult,
plastering on the strong face,
telling lies about my
wellbeing
no need to worry,
we’ve all got enough
on our plates
mine’s on the ground now,
I smashed it
to pieces for the sake
of hearing
something new
every line written
is a cry for assistance,
but no one listens,
their own hands
are bloodied
from their own
jagged edges
life’s tragedies
are abundant & if you
can’t do anything
but pray about it
they’ll color you weak
so be it, humans
never offered me
much so who else
can I go to for help?
here’s some action,
now the window’s broken,
the one that shows
soul glimpses, my
chronic conditions
on full display
are your eyes tearing up now too?
we’ll drown in
an ocean of broken women,
what’s one more? what’s
the cost of pretending?
what’s the worth
of the damaged body?
the unproductive,
worthless vessel
bobbing along
for your amusement
honestly, you wanted this,
an unleashing, you begged
for it
now stay as silent
as the rest
because I’m
more used to that
Honesty , it’s rare to see now.
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I feel a lot of pain in your writing here. Don’t give up hope!
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I doubt I could write without pain or hope.
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🙏
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A vividness of emotions and imagery in this poem, both as sharp as the pieces of broken plate. I hope this unleashing was a kind of therapeutic exercise for you.
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It was. Rinse, break, repeat.
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Very true
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The shards magically reassemble and rise back up to be dashed again, differently. Security, I guess, for a job that doesn’t pay… except in the nodding heads of witnesses with familiar scars. ♡
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❤
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I felt the power of this poem. The imagery evokes frustration as well as sadness and it felt familiar. Sometimes people stay silent, but it doesn’t mean your words haven’t moved them, perhaps made them feel a little less alone!
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Thanks for reading!
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🤗 ❤
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❤
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Great poem! I especially love these lines:
“their own hands
are bloodied
from their own
jagged edges
life’s tragedies
are abundant & if you
can’t do anything
but pray about it
they’ll color you weak
so be it, humans
never offered me
much so who else
can I go to for help?”
People try to appear strong, but we are often struggling more than we let on and are unable to do much to help others. Fortunately, we can have hope in God. Perhaps His existence is so much more important than we formerly thought that it is in His love that He allows us to recognize how weak we really are so that we will reach out for Him, for His mercy and grace.
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Too true. ❤ Thank you.
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You’re welcome!😊❤
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❤️❤️❤️
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A raw, heartfelt and powerful poem! So sharply you convey your feelings here, your poem shines with great beauty!
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Thank you
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Welcome Jennifer.
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