Rust

injurious thoughts

penetrating a tired mind

the head’s fabric torn

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Ancestors

Untitled

Inspired by Eugenia’s Brew-n-Spew 10/29/18

Cindy whispered to her antique doll, Abigail, in her lap. Careful not to muss her up too much, she delicately arranged her position. While her mother cooked, the child nodded her head as she turned in her direction.

“Mama, when did Grandma Francis give you Abigail?” referring to her favorite doll.

“Let me think. I was probably about four years old just like you. My mom told me that her mother had gotten Abigail when she was four years old as well. Why do you ask?” Cindy’s mother replied.

“Oh, Abigail said Victoria owned her first. Do I know her?”

Stabilized

sdfsdfsd

Pushed over the edge.
Waves of emotions coursing.
Tears flow unlocking the deep hurts.
Loud yells projected to match the pain.
Feelings challenged. Resolutions sought. This torture ends now.
Distancing from the anger, the fear and the abysmal. Letting it go.
Choosing peace, choosing harmony, choosing growth.
Deep relaxation and openness stage a presence.
Self-soothed in this self-connection.
Manifesting healing.

Shielding

Sticks-and-Stones-Soren-Palmer
Clarion Content Media

The injurious are on the prowl.

Instinctively my guard goes up.

Hurling words to pierce the psyche.

Expectedly waiting for more of a beat-down.

Another and another and another.

The taunts ricocheting inside me like a ping-pong ball. 

Humiliation the game, the victor no one.

I feel desperate and alone. I want to cry.

Fear, sadness, and agony achieved.

I don’t know how much longer I can take this!

Bored, looking for the next target to feel superior to.

I’m exhausted from this continued abuse.

I NEED TO PUSH MYSELF OVER THE EDGE TO FREEDOM.

Unoriginal

1

My thoughts are unique or are they?

Am I an original or just a borrower from the inspirers of my past?

I fear the quality words will all have been spoken.

I wonder when it’ll all have been said.

Will my voice be muted before I die?

Before I leave my mark…

I’m Scared

sad sunflower

Reaching in you’ll see it’s hard to find me.

I’m a discovery to be accessed when my psyche is at ease.

When I see you mean me no harm,

I’ll surround you like quicksand.

You’ll be immersed, enveloped by who I am.

You haven’t even begun to uncover what I want to give you.