Poem…the house

This house is full of horrors,
This house, it owns no love.
The air is filled with madness,
The floor boards moan in sadness.
The sounds it makes at night,
And the walls, blood red and white,
Represent the turmoil thats going on inside,
But everything is perfect on the outside.
The grass is trimmed,
The flowers bloomed,
The hedges cut,
The paint renewed,
So people walking by they smile,
And continue on their way.
But the house it cannot move,
For a house wasnt built with feet to run,
Or a mouth or eyes,
To tell you somethings wrong.
This house it carries on,
It has to stand up strong,
To support the demons ruining
All the paint work.
They will rip it all to shreds,
Tare it up until its nearly dead,
Without a detectable scratch upon the surface.
The house it cannot show
The scars it bares inside,
And its figured thats all itll ever deserve.
Theres no way to break the cycle
trust me its tried,
And all its done is made itself cry,
Which resulted in a leak down from the roof.
The house was beat
And still no outward proof.
There never was,
Nor will there ever be,
Someone there to help it carry on.

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Poetry

it didnt take long
for you to break me
take my innocence
make me a puppet
compliant and mute
it didnt take long
for you to silence me
with your threats
it didnt take long
for you to batter and bruise me
so that i had to create
the only ones in whom i could trust
and confide in
it didnt take long
it didnt take long
and now the memories remain
they drive me insane
yes
it didnt take long at all
for all of this to happen

HELLOWEEN IS NEAR, OH DEAR

YES. I’VE STARTED TO CALL THAT FUCKING DATE THAT HAPPENS THIS COMING TUESDAY HELLOWEEN, BECAUSE HELL IS WHAT WE WENT THROUGH ON THAT DATE FOR YEARS. WE ARE DREADING IT. LUCKILY FOR US WE HAVE THERAPY ON TUESDAY, WHICH IS GOOD, WE’LL NEED IT. THE KIDS ARE FREAKED OUT. HELL I AM EVEN FREAKED OUT. IT IS NOT GOOD. AND ITS EVERYWHERE. IN THE STORES. IN PEOPLES HOUSES WHAT WITH DECORATIONS AND COSTUMES AND STUFF. ITS SO COMMERCIALISED NOWADAYS. I JUST HOPE WE CAN GET THROUGH IT WITHOUT BECOMING A HOT MESS.
LIZ

IF YOU ONLY KNEW

IF YOU ONLY KNEW

HOW MUCH I HATE YOU

HOW MUCH I DESPISE YOU

HOW MUCH I WANT TO HURT YOU

RIP YOUR DICK OFF

AND RIP YOUR EYES OUT

IF YOU ONLY KNEW

HOW FILLED WITH RAGE I AM

HOW IT FEELS TO LIVE

WITH FLASHBACKS DAILY

NIGHTMARES EACH NIGHT

LIVE IN A WORLD

WHERE YOUR AFRAID TO BREATHE

AFRAID TO MOVE

JUMP AT EVERY SOUND

AFRAID TO BE YOURSELF

AFRAID TO SPEAK

TO TELL ANYONE ANYTHING

FOR FEAR THEY WONT BELIEVE YOU

FOR FEAR THEY’LL REJECT YOU

IF YOU ONLY KNEW

WHAT ABUSE DID TO ME

WOULD IT CHANGE YOUR VIEW?

I DOUBT IT

I DOUBT YOUR CAPABLE OF LOVING ANYONE

YOUR A MONSTER

A CRUEL MONSTER

AN EVIL MONSTER

AN ABUSER

AND YOU NEED TO KNOW

THAT I HATE YOU

WITH a VENGENCE

AND I THINK YOU ARE DISGUSTING

YOU MAKE MY STOMACH CHURN

MAKE ME WANT TO THROW UP

YOU ARE NOTHING

A NOBODY

BUT YOU MADE SURE

THAT I WOULD BE LEFT

WITH A LIFE TIME OF SCARS

AND A LIFE TIME OF HEALING

FUCK YOU FOR ALL THAT YOU DID TO ME

Poetry

feelings bubble
bubble up fast
i wonder to myself
how long can it last?
when will i be free?
when will someone see?
see me?
see my pain
see the gravity of these feelings
see the shame i feel
the horror of what i’ve gone through
when can i shout it from the rooftops
when can i say, me too?
when?
who will listen then?

Alcoholism in the family

so when we were little, like under 2, we lived with our dads family. there was mom, dad and me, my dads mom, his sister and brother all living in the same house. his mom, sister and brother were all alcoholics. my mom was young, she was 17 when she had me. she was young and vulnerable and very scared. she grew up with violence and conflict and stuff but not alcoholism. all of this was new to her. she had a lot to learn. when she would go somewhere where she could not take me along, i was looked after either by my aunt dads sister or his mom. they were always drunk. they could not look after me properly. they were careless and left us in dangerous situations. so many times. we were traumatised. left alone. alone to fend for ourselves. we learned not to cry. we learned to be quiet. so as not to cause arguments or get hurt by drunk people. it was our normal. tonight i am remembering. and it hurts. the pain of remembering is so overwhelming. why did this have to happen? why? a question I’ll never find ansers too.
carol anne