Expression Through Bad Poetry:

Hi Hi Y’all…

Returning home is always a tough battle for me, so I think I need to express my feelings through some pretty bad poetry. It is an example of some of the longer more thought provoking poetry in one of the next works I’m editing: Confessions Of A Teenage Poet. Don’t worry though, the book is a mix bag of dark, humorous and some just plain silly.

My Mother Is Abusive

My mother is abusive-

it’s not her fault.

She never intended to be-

Life just had environments

And Conditions.

My mother reminds me of pain-

And shame, rejection and rage.

She never intended to-

That I’m sure of,

But that’s how it’s been.

My mother doesn’t see-

I think we live in two realities.

She never meant to say the words,

But natural reactions come out

And the damage is done.

My mother once walked in-

On me being molested.

She never asked me what happened,

What was happening,

But she asked them.

It was natural

For me to be the ‘wrong’.

She intended to say

I was shameful

And embarrassing for her.

When I told my mom

About the rapes

The first response was-

“It’s not my fault.”

“You never said anything.”

When my health declined

And I had to learn

How to be disabled

I was over dramatic and excuseful.

Her pain was real.

When I gained weight

I was truly failed.

She wanted me to feel shame

For not being what the world ‘intended’

Or what she did.

My  mother often says

That growing up

Means changing everything

About me and what I want.

I mourn in silence.

I don’t think

Se’s a bad person.

I think she has so much

Love in her heart.

But it’s a heavy pain.

My mother is abusive-

Because she has helped

Me form these scars.

I Love You, Mom.

large

Alyssa Lies – Jason Michael Carroll

 

Sometimes I Think :

Sometimes I think life is a balancing act. But not the neat kind you see in movies, tvs or what you can imagine. It’s the messy, frustrating and lack of ever just having a moment of balance kind. Maybe I should say instead that life is like a tightrope, just no net or pretty other side.

Sometimes I think about everything that makes up my life… and by sometimes I mean all the time. There’s my family. These insane people that I fight going back and forth from hate to love. This crazy thing in my life that has me permanently walking this line of doom. I mean they’ve fucked me up, so bad. Trying to have conversations about it has proven to be impossible. They just don’t get it or can’t have it. I still haven’t figured out which one it is. All I know is how bad they’ve fucked me up and how much I still love them. It feels like I’m always going to love cutting myself. Everyone around you knows it’s bad and you should stop it…but the pain…the pain is just something else outside of it all. That’s my family in my life. My grandma who needs medication and therapy, but loves way too hard. My grandfather who can’t handle anything emotional, so just pushes it away for logical judgement and brief moments of sadness and rage. My Aunt who tries so hard I wonder why she does and also half the time thinks I’m a psychopath. My baby cousin who already at seven reminds me of the mean girls in high school that had made me hate my life. My mother… my mother who breaks me down still at this age and sums it all up as I’m the broken monster in her life.

Then there’s my friends. That’s a whole ‘nother mess of complications. I’m either choosing to stay close to people who I know will respect my boundaries and stay in okay distances or I’m too emotionally attached to the idea of the friendship to do anything I should do in it. I just… I don’t know how to have healthy connections with people. I never grew up with it, and the more I try this later in life learning crap the more I think wtf I’m forever bad it. It’s like there will always be some wall or disconnect I have with people and I don’t understand why. why can’t I do that final plug in with the world.  And even on a smaller scale I have issues on making decisions when it comes to people. Just right now I’m struggling with what to say to a friend. I’ve wanted her to visit so long and she finally has…but with her bf? Fuck, I don’t even know if I have the right to be upset about it. But I am. And that could be part bf or part my other mental crap.

And there’s a lot of mental crap. I mean forget getting fucked up by all them bitches growing up. Forget child abuse, rape, molestation, bullying, isolation…. you can throw that all aside.  There’s still being bipolar, depressed, anxious, insomniac, etc… Every year the list I get gets longer and my medications get higher in dose. Hey, by the way did I ever mention: I have a chronic problem of seeing dead children at night? You can ask my mother. For many reasons I don’t want to disclose we slept in the same bed till I was 18 and leaving for university. I’m totally not mentally fucked up.

And now I’m physically fucked up. I mean literally my body is trying to make me live a long painful life instead of just killing me. Arthritis, Ankylosing Spondylitis, Fibromyalgia and a shit ton of genes that mean I’ll probably one day have more when they decide to wake up and make me miserable. I mean not being able to walk stuck in bed with craploads of pain and an hyper bipolar mind is a beautiful thing to do to someone. Oh, and lets throw in brain fog to make them be insecure about the one thing they were good at: being smart.

I hate my life, so fucking much. I spend all my time trying to fake my way into happiness because hey eventually I’ll get there. I won’t be lonely. I won’t thing a dog is a solution to all my current problems and I won’t have to stop myself from getting low enough I wonder if it would be too messy to just simply walk in front of a car. Or worry about if I should burden my friends with these thoughts or continue to play I’m killing it game.

I mean…. how do you say to people you are hate your life and you never think that’s going to change. That you are passed fear and into acceptance that you will never be married or have children because you’ll never be able to have a one. How do you tell people that when the rage and mask finally fell the only thing left of you is endless tears and this broken shell.

I am so broken. So fucked up. I honestly don’t even know why I am still here. What is even the point of me?

Sometimes I think I’m a cliche, or just some bad joke.

I.L. Knight

f7a3de3b93ad32f6ea711cdb8366f30b

Boulevard Of Broken Dreams – Greenday

I Know It Seems :

I know it seems like I’m open,

Like a house with no doors

Or a window jacked open.

But that’s simply not true.

It’s simply a joke.

I’m nothing but closed

Like a house with no windows

Or a door bolted close.

I present myself simple,

Because simple is best.

Simple clothes, simple goals

Just a little simple less.

At the end of the day I’m simple no less,

But a girl waiting wanting to be blessed.

NF wanted therapy,

Joyner wanted change,

Lil Dicky just wanted to change the game.

But all I wanted was my life to change.

For it no longer to seem like a losing game,

Or a session that’s ended with more therapy

And not a thing of gain.

I know it seems like I’m open,

But all I am is a eulogy unopened.

I.L. Knight

255189023006202

Therapy – NF