If I were to die

If I were to die today,

I wouldn’t miss the sun, the stars or the sky.

I wouldn’t miss the changes of the season or the cool breeze in my hair.

If I were to die today, I wouldn’t miss the pretty flowers, the smell of a distant log burner, or a cooked meal.

I wouldn’t miss the feeling of freedom of driving, the smile of strangers, the taste of an ice cold drink.

If I were to die today, I could be at peace with the earth. 

I wouldn’t have to maintain a facade, the pain would end, the dull grey would fade.

If I were to die today, I couldn’t miss the things I no longer enjoy.

If only, I were to die today.

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Poem of mind and pain

The corridors are long and dark,

Demons linger, their meanings stark.

Passing doors where shadows lay in wait,

Full of anger and venomous hate.

There is no hope of escape,

Confronting the memories of violence and rape.

Feeling afraid and forever lost,

Her survival comes with a very high cost.

With no light to follow

or guides to rely on

She continues alone,

Her sanctuary unknown.

Dark is her enemy, the light is too strong,

Everything highlights all that is wrong.

She seeks compassion and care

she seeks comfort and repair.

She is damaged and broken,

Her fate is unknown,

deep wounds are left raw and unspoken.

Memories are nightmares and flashbacks replayed

Time still passes but the pain will never fade.

She needs to find her solace along the way,

Can hope possibly give her this day?

No one can see the madness she faces,

No one is able to visit these places.

For this is her walk deep within her mind

The atrocities and torture remain her only bind.

Although no can see the pain she endures,

And platitudes are lost over the dragon that roars.

Her mind is a maze of bitter twists and turns,

The pain is like fire leaving its burns.

Onwards she trudges in her daily fight

No one understands her, although try as they might.

She has to believe that she will get well

That demons will die,

and she will leave this hell.

For she believes that peace awaits her and she has to be strong,

She has to rise above all that is wrong.

Regrets – poem

Regrets. The biggest baggage of all,Painful, cannot change, I’m left the eternal fool.

I have caused pain and turmoil to the ones I love and adore,

I have created feelings of loneliness and made them feel like they need to do more.

But the duty was on me to undo the mistakes,

To listen, to learn, to stop being so selfish for goodness sakes.

I have lamented about pain that’s been caused to me,

The lack of support, the betrayal and scorn.

But I have done exactly the same to innocent souls, 

Broken them, pushed them, raked them over the coals.

Sorry seems inadequate, too little to late,

I created hurt and suffering from misdirected hate.

Now I am alone and suffering in great pain,

Knowing I caused similar will be my daily rain.
I wish with all my heart I could take it all away,

To have my chance again, any sacrifice or price I’d would pay.

I want to admit that I’ve done so much wrong, 

It’s not been a one off, it’s gone on so long.
I have been hurt terribly in the past,

But I was given a gift that I believed would last.
I ruined that gift, that chance of life,

I crushed it, and broke it – caused immeasurable strife.
To know I caused hurt like I feel everyday 

Is an eternal hell, and a huge price I’ll pay.
Just know that I’m sorry and I live with regret,

My angel is gone and I’m left to grieve with huge debt.
Thank you for being my rock, my guiding light,

My saviour, my safety, my shiny white knight.
Thank you for loving me, your strength and your belief

Thank you for being you, for giving me comfort and relief.
In you I found something I never thought possible,

Happiness, peace, wholeness for which you were responsible 
My love, my soul mate, my confidante, my best friend.

We have finally met a devastating end.
I will love you forever and cherish your kindness

I hate that I’ve seen the truth too late after years of blindness.
Be happy you’re finally free

Of a selfish, bitter bitch, like me.

Broken (poem)

Is this what my life has become?

Tired, fed up and numb.

My husband barely tolerates me around,

He’s cutting, patronising and a bitterness in him I’ve found.

I’m more alone than I’ve ever been,

Failure is what my husband has seen.

My past like a weight on a back,

It’s courage and strength that I lack.

I would love to feel safe and respected,

Attractive, appreciated and affection received and expected.

I don’t like the person I’ve become,

Weak, ashamed, pitiful and dumb.

Unchartered territory I wander,

With the rain, the wind and the thunder.

I need a sign of what I should do

A suggestion, advice or a clue.

My husband has always been my soul mate,

But now all he has is hate.

Everyday is an ongoing battle from morning and through to the night,

The digs, the put downs and the outright fight.

My depression feels intense, a big scary hole,

Memories repeating in my brain, sadness and fear in my soul.

My life feels stuck on repeat 

This wallowing in self pity I must beat.

I hope I can find strength to continue through this

My old, passionate self I miss.

Poem

  
If I died tomorrow, who would mourn the loss?Would my husband complete an obligatory stance – and worry about the cost.
What memories do I leave behind? Sadness, anger, struggles, personal regret 
Im sure there’s lot of other negatives my mother in law wouldn’t forget!
My children would be devastated, lost and afraid
The only good things to come out of this clumsy life I made.
My children are my life and soul, so compassionate and giving
They have given me all the strength and courage I need to keep on living.
When I crashed my motorbike I flirted too closely with death.
It made me relish the life I have and be thankful it wasn’t my last breath.
In my broken body as I struggled to regain my strength
I longed for the care of my husband, his compassion and his love. But it was carved outside of his heart – 
I didn’t know what that meant.
He’s been my soul mate, my best friend my hero and my rock,
But now none of that exists to me, his heart stopped beating for me like a broken clock.
I am lost, afraid of my future, and losing my only hope
The man that gave me unconditional love and taught me how to cope.
Love is painful, hard and scary,
My poor husband is tired and wary.
So if I died tomorrow and I wonder who would mourn my passing,
It would be my children because they don’t really know my weaknesses, my faults, and if they did – their love might not be lasting.

Poem

I am perfect imperfect

Dimples, flaws and more

Guilty of self pity, self loathing and shame

Using my past against others, trying to share the blame.

But within me lies a survivor, strong and never ending,

Trying to understand the difference between quitting all and bending.

I can appreciate my present, though I have laden my past bare

It feels as though I’ve stagnated, but really I’m nearly there

I accept my selfish tendencies, my anger and my hurt,

I accept that no one can change things, but flowers grow from within the dirt.

The anger and bitterness left me cold

But in truth that just becomes old.

I must seek peace from within myself

And handle the cards I was dealt.

I have cast my pain on others, my need to wallow in my pain,

But this has left me shallow and feeling my own disdain.

New life is not given without love,

It deserves respect and validation, perhaps a gift from up above.

I must seek joy and happiness from within 

My heart should flourish, grow – in the present I must live in.

I have caused untold pain to my deepest love 

And made loving me so hard, it’s made him brutal and tough

I regret my decisions, my demeanour

I regret my attitude and song of an obnoxious diva.

My scars are real, so painful,

But with constant grief it becomes banal.

I must mature like the wisest widower

Not become selfish and a wallower.

I need to learn from my mistakes

I need to acknowledge mine and others aches.

I must realise that yesterday is past

I must make my relationships last.

I need to work hard to change and improve 

To accept, to grow that I cannot lose.

I’m sorry for all the bitterness that consumed me

I need to honour and trust and person that I can be.

The fallout from writing a poem

I decided to write a poem. In it I would express a night in which my life changed. I would write my observations where previously they had only been shared as a police statement. Only this time I could bare my soul. Express my emotion, the depths, the darkness. Own it and regurgitate like a horrible sickness. Say my words with the horror and disgust that they were meant to be heard. Grieve and scream through the power of words alone.

My poem. My expression. My story. My words.

A tangible entity of everything that happened, the pain so deep and fear powerful enough to live forever in my soul.

My poem was complete. It was mine.

I shared it with my husband, he looked worryingly at me, he told me it was extremely confrontational and enquired as to my well being. I felt ok. The poem was constructed over a few nights. I didn’t want to deliberate over it during the day.

Until today.

Having minimal sleep I read a revised version over. There my factual inaccuracies hit me. As flashbacks. Two. Terrible. Painful, graphic. Both the image and the verbal account to police. I threw my phone. Curled into a ball and sobbed. How could I be so stupid? How could I have forgotten these things? Made these mistakes? I felt sick, beaten by the flashbacks, unsafe and sordid. For a brief moment I forgot who I was. Time, location, everything was gone. Nothing existed. Just this flashback. These details. Sadness, terrible gut wrenching sadness, fear and pain. I’m ashamed to confess that there was a brief moment where the old habit, the old desire to self harm crept up. Needing to cut a wound into my flesh, to see the blood run. As a punishment and to bring myself away from this horrible pain and these horrible memories.

I sobbed until I was exhausted of tears. I called my husband at work. I said the poem is wrong. The facts are wrong. “It’s your poem, you can write another one, you can change it. It’s your choice, it’s your poem.” He said to me.

I fell into an exhausted slumber for about an hour before my friend called. A call I was happy to receive.

Before I left to pick her up, I took my husband’s advice and just tweaked the two errors that caused the heartache. I realise in doing that I’m owning it again and it gives it some perspective.

It’s been a long day and I’ve not considered it again. There is clearly too much emotion tied to this than I’d initially thought.

Maybe one day I will put it in my blog.