Elie's Poetry Corner

crying on the inside, turmoil. fear. doubt. dying on the inside weary. sleepless. night. Every day a battle. fighting. for my. life. Every night a struggle. will this. never. end? Too much pain around me. the pain. I see. I feel. If only I could help them. I want. my hands. to heal. For all the good it does me, I bow. my head. to pray. But there is no answer. No one's. listening. anyway.

Time goes on, as if it didn't know For me it's still. If not, it's moving slow. All these smiles, they stab me like a knife and no one knows -- how cruel is this life. I have no grave to visit, nor ashes to spread. I don't even know how long you've been dead. Can I choose to say it isn't so Can I block it out, as if I didn't know? If I could hold a paper in my hand, would I accept it then, would I understand? How did I let the years go by -- without picking up the phone just to say hi? Now simply because I didn't try I'll never even get to say goodbye. Do I even have the right to grieve? Am I allowed redemption or reprieve? Always too busy with my life to hear Always too tired, too stressed to lend an ear. The earth still spins and we have dawn even without you -- cruel life marches on.

Pressed between two pages, in a book upon a shelf. He seeks to hide your beauty, and keep it to himself. He plucked you from your garden, from everything you knew. He trimmed away the childhood friends, along whose sides you grew. He showered you with kindness, and fertilized your hope... before he banished you to darkness, with which you couldn't cope. He knows that you will wither, he knows that you will die. He knows that you cannot escape, because you'll never try. He's warned you of the dangers, that in the world await if ever you decide to roam, beyond his garden gate. You had thorns to protect you, but he wore a glove. He said you didn't need them, because you had his love. He'll let you live in misery, then put you on display He thinks that he's a potter, and you're a piece of clay. You envy things that aren't alive, because they cannot feel. Think maybe it's a nightmare, that none of it is real. You try hard to remember, y...

I know your self-esteem is tangled with his love that's how he knows, no matter what, it'll never be enough... to make you leave. I know you cry at night, and think you're all alone you're praying for a sign, and he throws you a bone so you won't leave. I know you hide the bruise, explain away the scar you never will admit, that he has gone too far and you don't leave. You think that he is broken, and you alone can heal explain away his drinking, it's his only way to deal but you don't leave. I heard last night you left, took all that you could take too bad you're in a sleep, from which you'll never wake.

You stab me with the knife of indifference right before you plunge me into the icy cold depths of apathy. All this as you smirk, and nudge and whisper. But as I get close the talking stops and silence reigns. And it is clear that you... think... you're... better... than... me. Better because: your clothes are neatly pressed... Your children are more well-behaved... you chose not to have children... You don't make as many mistakes... you don't forget things... You make friends easily... You're still married... You chose not to marry... And you smirk and laugh and judge so easily. You think you know me at a glance. You see: The way I dress. My shy manner. My rowdy children. My forgetfulness. You see my mistakes. But you don't see me. You never see me. You never know me. And you lose:  the comfort I give when my friends are in need.  a sympathetic ear. The thought I put into my gifts. My silliness and my humor. my empathy. The fun we coul...