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My poems

I often do poetry as a way of coping. (As a survivor of child abuse with CPTSD - so they are usually very dark)
Havent done any in a long while, and deleted all the stuff i had.

This is one i did recently:-

It’s the edge that’s so painful.
Peering over, looking at what I’ll never be or everything I have been.
The one location I can view my pain and lifelong unmet wishes all from one place.
It’s that place, in between acceptance and rejection.... love and hate, where the pain is strongest.
It exposes me for never being enough. It’s a reminder of what none existence feels like.
Some say there’s nothing worse than never having expectations or dreams.
That’s when I’m reminded that I wish there wasn’t such a thing, and the dark abyss feels so much more comforting than a safe loving cuddle.
If only the edge didn’t exist.
"Our Bubble".

We created a bubble.
It surrounded us, keeping out the cold winds.
Inside the world was so much different.
There was nothing but warmth and love.
No famine, no war.

The bubble was so strong.
I took the bubble for granted.
Then I didn't even realise it was there.
Our love grew stronger and deeper,
Nothing in the past was remembered.

Then one day I woke to a cold breeze.
I looked around and everything felt different.
The bubble had broke.
I searched for explanations,
And you weren't there to help me.

As time went on the hole became bigger,
And you never did return.
Finally I realised it was you who had burst the bubble.
From that moment the wind gushed in,
And a coldness filled my heart and mind.
The world was real again, but my life was empty.
"The healing Onion".

Peeling back that onion.
That -flicking-g onion.
Worst vegetable known to man.

The onion - It lied to me.
Made me believe in false stories about myself.
Who am i?
Come on onion - tell me you stupid vegetable?
Are you even organic? You bastard.

I thought i knew my enemies.
The cycle of pain comes around again.
New parts of a jigsaw.
What did you do with those missing pieces onion?
You bastard.
Now onion replaces the whole picture.

Onion can do what it wants.
I no longer know the difference between that and a carrot.

And it spirals around again.
More pain....more clarity? What the -flick- is the truth in my world?
Redefined again....by a -flicking-g onion.
This onion, this mighty onion.

Feeling brighter....perked up...even had a hot dog, with onion.
Then whoooooosh...... here comes that deeper layer again.
Swept off my feet....dropped my hot-dog.
Things arent what i thought...its all started again.

I -flicking-g hate onions.
Like a molecule floating through space.
Trying to find a planet to bump into.
Maybe I could grow into a plant, or something has legs and arms.

Trying to catch up with the outer reaches of the universe as it speeds away.
Maybe on one planet I will belong. Maybe I could be part of a ring around Saturn.

Like the quantam theory....who can tell if the molecule ever existed if theres nobody to see it fly off into enternity.
If theres no human to show warmth or love, its just part of that never ending darkness.
And the physics professor gets out his equipment...nothing is detected.

And so I carry on pretending to be something more than a bunch of atoms.
Searching for meaning and belonging as solar systems drift by me outside of my grasp.
The pain of being so alive and feeling so alone.