I wanted to write a poem about my positioning so I guess here goes,
But don’t judge a book on its cover tho because transparent it all kinda shows,
Externally people may say the term, maybe easy on the eye
Brown but green eyeris, highlighted hair but the highlights are not high
Five foot four, size 6, size 8 – it shouldn’t matter but the external look is your social cover
Distant, with not a close family, no spoken words with the father and rarely to the mother,
It made me quiet, no confidence, nauseas , isolated and then a bit deeper ] became,
But why should I want me when it all turns or becomes the same,
I don’t understand when I went to the dark blue, young and naïve I never even knew,
I never knew that I was wrapped withing the dark blue, it becomes a peronailty trait,
Why did I get this, is it god or is it fate?
It torments me and pushes people away I am so sorry if all you wanted to do was stay,
I know I will get better some day, but its this that and then that aswell too,
It overrides my systems and navigates me right back to the BLUE!
Its not a place for you, the blue wont welcome you as softly as it does with me,
I have been here a long time, I couldn’t even tell you parts of it over a cup of tea,
Whirlwinds, as I mask and get on with balancing the plates of the past,
The present I don’t care, the future, well lest just get away with this part, it’s the last.
Then I can stop hearing the sounds of the plates as they crash,
Stop, slow down, pause or something – life is going way to fast,
My scars both internal and external,
Bleeding to understand, scribbling in my journal,
I am missing something, why do I not feel complete,
Oh its because in the back of my mind, my vision? I walk alone in the dark street,
I have people there – I know you care and you do too,
But it never really stops me from getting to the dark blue,
I don’t know how to stop this trigger, it dictates and has dictated
Stop it please, actually depression you have made me hated,
Why, because you stopped me from showing up,
You have made me pour my last half into half empty cups,
You have kept me in bed, curtains closed,
Phones off, brb I say but nobody knows,
One day I know the pieces will be picked up and placed in empty properly,
The lights will come on, and the walls will become, within the properly,
To be finally a home, finally a unit, foundations that don’t falter,
Because its real, not a trick, or a lesson encouraging a verbal assaulter,
Maybe then they will feel at one, with more of a purpose than just a working single mum,