Unfinished

What's with this voice inside my head,
Its hold on me and strength I dread.
"Be nice to me!" I cry, I pray as I loose
my strength, my will it strays.

You make me angry, crosss and Mean.
I rant, I rave, I yell and scream.
I just want calm a little peace
For just one day I ask you please.

You think you are strong. You are not, you are wrong.

You're weak, a bully and deep down scared.
because the one's who should've cared weren't there.
So, take it to them, even better just leave
I'm a Mother now and my babies have needs.

I need to be focused, I need to be here.
I need them to come to me without any fear.
They are pure and innocent and its none of their fault
It's time for this destructive voice to come to a halt!

My Thoughts

My thoughts, it seems aren't mine to share.
My thoughts aren't yours nor mine to care.
Maybe this place inside my head,
it isn't real I'm really dead.

One For the Country

Should I have 3 or just 2?
3 may seem greedy or just too many. For those who have none but want just 1 it may seem excessive or a little too clever. The 2 I have are perfect so will 3 be too many and uneven or perhaps the undoing?

A Blubbering Puddle

She was a blubbering puddle of misery and woe. The tears rolled and the sobs were mournful. Her eyes red and puffy as was her nose. "Use words" I said but only noise and salty droplets came out. The flame of my compassion and care had not yet been ignited. The frosty chill of a 3am Winter had seen to that.

Little Black Tome

Little black tome a place where my thoughs can congeal and conspire.
Within you all that makes sense or not can be expressed and none shall pass judgement. But then none can judge as harsh as I.

Deprivation

I'm so tired, please let me sleep. I've a big soft bed with nice clean white sheets.

I close my eyes and dive into the deep. The subconscious swims, mad visions into my mind creep.

People, places, whose faces? Again I awake, but none I keep.

Submerge

So deep is the pain that if I held my breath and dived to reach the bottom I would drown. But at the bottom sits my child waiting to be rescued. Entangled in water weeds, silently she floats battered about by the undrcurrents.

Patiently she waits. She no longer calls for help. Her lips cracked and peeling from the salty water she knows better than to speak, no one will hear. Through milky eyes she looks up for me knowing somewhere up there, there is light.