Three Revised

A cousin, a brother, things happen in 3’s

Hoped death would come next for me

Instead my Pa went down that dark path

Wriggling and writhing in alcohol’s grasp

So I mourn again and again and again

Left still wishing for my silly own end

I know God is near, perhaps Goddess too

Laughing at this human who wants to be through

Asking to be taken from this nightmare of life

Wanting to be finished with all of the strife

They must have some grand plans for me

To keep me in hell instead of giving me leave

My heart and soul long for my sister dear

Cries out because she won’t let me near

She reads all my words wrong and so false

I don’t like text, I would much rather talk

Chest crushed by the weight of my grief

I no longer have her to help find relief

“Think on good things, believe in good luck”

Sunshiny people need to shut the hell up

They’ve no idea where I’ve been or am going

I’ve had loss of all kinds and the tears are flowing

Platitudes are not going to cut it this time

The best kind of healing comes from these rhymes

Here I am free to be depressingly me

No one judges, no one expects all glee

I can write and rant and know there is another

Who has felt this or seen it one way or the other

Compassion, yes.  Understanding, check.

And reminded the world is in chaos yet

My own battles start to seem very small

‘Tho my pain is amplified by poets who stand tall

I see they are writing about much bigger issues

So in elegant ways, they provide me with tissues

Which help to stop my self destructive wins

Like pulling and picking and scarring my skin

So thank you all for being who you are

For writing poems that take me so far

Away from my existence mundane

To view life from a much higher plain

For carrying me along with your tales

Which help to finally silence my wails

Panic Attack

What lies await outside my front door

Who is out there ready to settle a score

My brain yells out a warning to stay put

Each time the door opens more than a foot

All of my muscles tremble and quake

I suddenly feel very much awake

Sweat beads up on my brow and neckline

I tell myself maybe I can do it this time

Most days I can’t… I’d rather be dead

Is any of it real, or is it all in my head

I want to believe life can be better than this

That I’ll wake up tomorrow and find my bliss

Bed is a sanctuary and torture device

My body hurts from being tossed all night

No exercise and no fresh air

The lack of sunshine keeps me fair

Black moods are best kept to myself

Locked away and put up on a shelf

My mind often wanders to dreary places

It goes back and forth in unsteady paces

I live in silent rooms full of dim light

Trying to cope with this senseless fright

It comes in silently on little cats’ feet

With a swiftness I can’t begin to defeat