It whispers the ugliest words, echoes of those who hurt the tenderness in us.
Tag: poetry by cult survivors
A Different Kind Of Damaged
I can only sit and observe, The winding streets of your hurt.
Behind the Stars
You are hiding behind a star.
She mimicked normal, Smiling, wine glass Lifted pinkie; copied class, And she remembered back, Carefree before this jump. Into ash and stone Leaping downwards, This place would never Feel like home. Oh, did not she Understand her strength, When the wind Lifts her wings? To get through the storms She would forget Her own dimension … Continue reading Soul Genocide
The Current Tide
TiredMoroseFlatThis feels likeAn aftermathOf the rubbleFrom a space shuttleI was never meantTo depart from. Thinking of homeI am a Universal vagabondWith my heart strapped on;Ripped so many timesThere is no more liningFor stitches,So I wrap it in twineTie a knot inside my chestA place to tetherThe sadness. Stop trying to fixThe broken heartedWith your big … Continue reading The Current Tide
What does it feel likeTo be a ghost shunned;A soul un-grieved,Un-missed and unforgiven? In the hovering bowelsOf mysticism where theCynics hang their hats,She waits to beAcknowledged. In these times thereIs a satisfaction in thisInter-dimensional reaction;When spirit feels the wishingJust like we didWhen we were littleAnd hurting. "You are undeserving." I see her thereWeeping. She isRepeating … Continue reading Un-Acknowledged
You can give aMillion pieces of your heart.You can listen and support,Share openly; be told"Discussion encouraged",But nothing insures loyalty. Today, I learned thatFor the final time. Rarely do people's actionsMatch their words.There will be no moreNewness walking in this door.My wariness grows stronger. I will ever remain the watcher,
Longing For Silence
I can't recall everLonging for silenceMore than in this moment. So quiet. So quiet,That a falling featherWould vibrate my skinLike a roar. They say some chooseTo depart this spaceBecause they can'tTake the pain, but Maybe they justNeeded silence;Driven mad byThe lack of nothingnessIn which to be.
There's a faded line Between reality and time I Catch myself remembering rejection Straddling a log fence watching Them play and laugh and shout Odd girl out Too loud I used to be an expert at stilts Stride the mud like a queen I could do anything If I just believed but I never prayed hard enough to Make God real and It would be a version of Drop Dead Fred who Emerged the memories in my head Read more...
After cult life IKnow what it's likeRun across the roadIn the dark nightSteal vegetablesFrom the neighboring farm And it harm noneMama formed the missionHolding her BibleA glory soaked misfit Cold seeped doorwaysOn an old trailerIn lot Number sevenPiling up blanketsSummers fanning heat There was no heavenIn our empty stomachsOr a cruel mother whoStood us in … Continue reading Poverty
Save the idle banterAnd the petty, senseless chatterFor the next innocent victimsOf your self created disaster. Save the sad, sad storiesAnd the sudden change of tuneFor the tide that brings the drowningWhen it all decapitates you. Save it for the othersWho love to gasp and smotherIn the drama and the strifeOf petty, purposeless lives. Save … Continue reading Save It
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