Just hold on til tomorrow (poem?)

I “accidentally” cut my middle finger on a broken glass
Just to spite his fucking, sorry ass.
Just one last way to finally say, "Fuck you
For all the shit you put me through!"

But it wasn’t deep enough.

It didn’t bleed enough.

I guess I have lost my touch.

I burnt myself with a cigarette,
But still can't begin to forget.
All the fucking shit he did
And the fucking pain he caused.
And the wreck of a mother
And the fucking whore I was.

It was never what I wanted --
It wasn't “me” at all.
But I've taken the fucking blame,
And I've taken the fucking fall.

I took 4 hands full of pills,
Just how many, I don't know.
So down the rabbit hole I go.
I don't want to die,

That’s for sure . . .
I know life is too precious . . .

I just want to be a in a blur.

And, for once in my life,
I would LOVE to get some sleep.
I just want these memories to
Go away and let me rest in peace.

I even used the telephone.
I called the fucking crisis line,
And talked to Senor Psychobabble.
He said take a hot shower
And drink a glass of milk . . .
Like that will fucking help.

I don't know what I need.
I really feel the need to bleed.
But that’s not an option I’m willing to face.

I have enough scars to be a disgrace.

Just cigarette burns, maybe,

And perhaps that will finally teach me

To stop blabbing my fucking mouth

About things that nobody has any business knowing.

Places I have no business going.

I can feel the hatred in my growing,

But, that's just how I feel right now.

Tomorrow will be different.

I have children that I love,

And there's a God above

Who cares for me.

I just have to hold on til tomorrow.

Just hold on til tomorrow.

Maybe Just a Little Bit Angry (collage)

Often there are emotions that I can't identify, that I avoid expressing.  Writing helps me to express myself, and so does making digital collages.

Here's my latest:

Survivors with a Voice (sonnet)

He took my body from me as he liked.
He made my very life a living hell.
Now, it seems, I have to stand up and fight
So I don't lose my mind to him as well.
Though I feel the gears slipping a little,
I'm holding on with all that I have left.
Though my soul's scarred and my brain is brittle,
I will fight this to my very last breath.
I'll be damned if I'm going to give up now,
After all the hell he has put me through.
I'll stay together, though I don't know how.
I won't give up. I've got too much to do.
Take the mem'ries and flashbacks and shove them.
Survivors with a voice, gotta love them!

Who's Your Bitch NOW? (sonnet)

You took my soul from me a million times.
You said I'd be a fool to try to leave.
After years of you messing with my mind,
There was some of it I almost believed.
You called me a slut and a worthless whore,
A cunt, a bitch, and a few that were worse.
You raped me til I couldn't take much more,
And then would laugh in my face and just curse.
You said I was stupid, ugly, and fat.
You gave me no mercy when I cried out.
I learned to be silent through all of that,
For if I complained, it was worse, no doubt.
And yet I did survive . . . someway, somehow --
One thing I have to ask, "Who's your bitch NOW?"

I'd Rather Be Dead (sonnet)

Take your flowers from the grocery store
And shove them where the sun will never shine.
I won't let you torment me anymore.
I have a new life that's totally mine.
Your attempts to control me are a waste.
Your accusation's nothing but a lie.
You're nothing to me but a bitter taste
Left in my mouth from days long since gone by.
I am determined to be free of you,
Your lies, and all of your insanity.
I wish you'd understand that we are THROUGH
And give up on playing mind games with me.
"We had our moments," that's true what you said.
But go back to you? I'd rather be dead.

Go Fly a *#@+ Kite (Sonnet; language warning)

(I'm really sorry about the language, but I was extra "pissed off"
when I wrote this sonnet.  Normally I hate the 'F' word
(mostly because it was HIS favorite word), but sometimes
it's the only thing that seems to fit.)

To you, I say, "Go fly a fucking kite!
Go jump off of the highest cliff you know.
I will not let you torment me tonight
Or change my plans because you tell me so.
It's none of your damn bus'ness what I do,
Or where I go, or who I choose to see.
I don't need your permission, so fuck you.
It's time you fucking stopped controlling me.
So throw your fit, if that's what you must do.
Go find another mat to trounce upon.
Your days of putting me through hell are through,
I'm sick of your abuse, and I've moved on.
I do not give a God damn flying fuck
About you now, so you're shit out of luck."