1995 Poetry

A raw and very honest look at what its like to be in pain, from social worker angela, of I am my own island

I Am My Own Island

My youngest son was going through my cedar chest and found a poem I wrote that got published in a college anthology and performed during the final presentation. I’ve been looking for it awhile so I could share how this pain has been going on so long.

Time’s Actress

The very time that changed the seasons, the years. the eras

Has changed me.

For Good?

Or Evil?

I do not know

I am no longer a Gerber baby.

I am no longer an innocent schoolgirl.

I am no longer a naïve adolescent.

I do not spit up on unsuspecting relatives.

I do not play hopscotch on sunny Days

And I do not believe every man is perfect.

— Lover or not —

I don’t remember being a baby.

I rarely ponder on my childhood.

In my adolescence I remember much more.

I remember being spoiled.

I remember being deprived more.

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Author: Carol Anne

I am a woman in my mid 30's. I'm blind and I have dissociative identity disorder, I also have complex PTSD. I blog about my life with these disorders. I live in Ireland.

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