EowynWryter
Member
(This is an old poem that I wrote and fixed up a little bit a few months ago. I want to keep it raw, so I am not going to change it much but feel free to leave criticisms anyways!)
(TRIGGER WARNING: INVOLVES MENTIONING OF PARENTAL ABUSE)
(TRIGGER WARNING: INVOLVES MENTIONING OF PARENTAL ABUSE)
The woman and man signed the papers
Changed their names from names
to roles
Strangers with eyes
that were not my eyes
With noses
that were not my nose
With views and beliefs
that I would find
Clashed with my own
There are walls and doors and
windows and shingles
On this wannabe home
That in reality is only
a shivering corpse
of a home
An attempt of a house
Outside, the woman with
the role that was not birthed to her
Shines
She works, an empowered woman
She laughs and charms
with her beautiful mongolian
onyx-y ruby eyes
Gathering her flock
of women around her
Drinking fermented fruit
Celebrating life
She drives the boys to sports teams
Boys she also signed the papers for
But
Inside whose walls and doors
Windows and shingles
There is no laughter.
She holds me in a single clutch
Nails and fingers digging into my jaw and cheeks
Until lovely little bruises form
And she teaches me to use make up
Concealing up my imperfections
Yes she holds me in her single clutch
Forcing my eyes to look into her eyes
The ones that are not mine
eyes
She makes me repeat
"I should be grateful
that you signed the papers.
I am a bratty, spoiled
liar of a child."
I am grateful
But not for those papers she signed
Grateful that I am not struck
Like my brothers
Hangers, belts, hands and words
The first three for the boys
The fourth for me
And me alone
When the boys get in trouble
It is
"Why weren't you taking care
Of your brothers?
This is your fault."
Yet it is them
that are older than me
I get the words
sharp and mean
from the strangers that
signed the papers
"Cross your ankles.
Get your elbows off the table.
You are worthless and a liar.
You must be perfect.
Is that a skirt you're wearing?
No more
You look like a whore."
If I say crap I get slapped
Oh wait
Maybe I did receive the hands
The Stranger woman
drinks fermented fruit
to celebrate life
But it was the fruit in which
she drank
That made her crash the car
With the eldest boy
in the back seat
She broke the bone
and that "must be worse"
than the spirit of his
She shattered
The Stranger man
Strangely enough was worse
He hurts us more
Words and hands and belts
He speaks over us
We ask why he does this
He always answers
He signed our papers
Therefore we are worthless and we should be grateful
Years I have been free
of the walls and windows
Shingles and doors
Finally after 20 years
I get names for my night terrors
The ones that ache and bounce in my brain
While I am wide awake
I tell the strangers
that signed my papers
They reply
"You have no right to cry
Why are you so worthless and broken?
With your Panic Disorder
Depression, anxiety
ADHD and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
You never had to worry
About money...
Honey."
Finally I say
"I am broken
But never have I been worthless.
I am like this
Because you signed
the goddamn motherfucking papers."
Changed their names from names
to roles
Strangers with eyes
that were not my eyes
With noses
that were not my nose
With views and beliefs
that I would find
Clashed with my own
There are walls and doors and
windows and shingles
On this wannabe home
That in reality is only
a shivering corpse
of a home
An attempt of a house
Outside, the woman with
the role that was not birthed to her
Shines
She works, an empowered woman
She laughs and charms
with her beautiful mongolian
onyx-y ruby eyes
Gathering her flock
of women around her
Drinking fermented fruit
Celebrating life
She drives the boys to sports teams
Boys she also signed the papers for
But
Inside whose walls and doors
Windows and shingles
There is no laughter.
She holds me in a single clutch
Nails and fingers digging into my jaw and cheeks
Until lovely little bruises form
And she teaches me to use make up
Concealing up my imperfections
Yes she holds me in her single clutch
Forcing my eyes to look into her eyes
The ones that are not mine
eyes
She makes me repeat
"I should be grateful
that you signed the papers.
I am a bratty, spoiled
liar of a child."
I am grateful
But not for those papers she signed
Grateful that I am not struck
Like my brothers
Hangers, belts, hands and words
The first three for the boys
The fourth for me
And me alone
When the boys get in trouble
It is
"Why weren't you taking care
Of your brothers?
This is your fault."
Yet it is them
that are older than me
I get the words
sharp and mean
from the strangers that
signed the papers
"Cross your ankles.
Get your elbows off the table.
You are worthless and a liar.
You must be perfect.
Is that a skirt you're wearing?
No more
You look like a whore."
If I say crap I get slapped
Oh wait
Maybe I did receive the hands
The Stranger woman
drinks fermented fruit
to celebrate life
But it was the fruit in which
she drank
That made her crash the car
With the eldest boy
in the back seat
She broke the bone
and that "must be worse"
than the spirit of his
She shattered
The Stranger man
Strangely enough was worse
He hurts us more
Words and hands and belts
He speaks over us
We ask why he does this
He always answers
He signed our papers
Therefore we are worthless and we should be grateful
Years I have been free
of the walls and windows
Shingles and doors
Finally after 20 years
I get names for my night terrors
The ones that ache and bounce in my brain
While I am wide awake
I tell the strangers
that signed my papers
They reply
"You have no right to cry
Why are you so worthless and broken?
With your Panic Disorder
Depression, anxiety
ADHD and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
You never had to worry
About money...
Honey."
Finally I say
"I am broken
But never have I been worthless.
I am like this
Because you signed
the goddamn motherfucking papers."