The Act

I wrote this some time ago - one of my migrating poems - when I was in the midst of a major upheaval which as you can imagine I wasn't too happy about so its a bit disjointed but that also serves to re-create how disjointed I felt.


The Act

Not fine (Part 1 – Rage)

Time has past and I should be over it
But I am still not ready

Platitudes don’t work
They only serve to fill me with silent rage
Don’t say it was for the best
Or everything happens for a reason
Or better yet, things will turn out ok
Those thoughtful, well intentioned phrases
Really those empty meaningless condiments

No it’s not ok and it’s not going to be ok!
If they were they’d be ok by now
Nothing has changed
My life is still one big mess
I am still chocking on my anger, my shock
My sense of this isn’t real, this isn’t happening
Not to me
Not me of all people
Why me?
WHY FUCKING ME???????


Put Together (Part 2 – Despair)

Self pity rains all around me
All I want to do is wallow and revel in it
I am soo tired of the pretense
The constant keeping up appearances
The never-ending “I’m ok, Really I’m fine!”
The “don’t worry about me, I’m doing great!!!”
I exert more energy reassuring everyone I’m ok
Than I do actually trying to feel good.

My body is wound soo tight
It is literally tearing away from stress
It is a constant battle to hold everything together
I cannot afford the luxury of breaking down
I find myself alone in a ring of loved ones
Yet I’m the only one holding me up
If I fall to pieces who will put me backtogether?
All the kings men couldn’t put humpty back together!


Interlude

The show must go on!
I am the regular Friday night Charlie Chaplin
There I go cracking jokes and making folks feel good
Pls ignore the silent tears tracking down my face
All part of the show, It’s what I do – amuse and entertain
If late at night I wonder, why can no one really see me?
I understand it is a case of – the queen is dying, long live the queen!


Lost Little Girl (Part 3 – Pain)

Hush! Can you hear her?
Listen, there she goes again…
Am I really the only that hears her cries?
Sometimes it is quiet sobs of hurt
Other times, big scalding wails of pain,
Piercing screams of rage

She cries cos nobody can hear her
She fills my ears with her emotions
My every waking moment feels like a cacophony
I try to drown her out with music, laughter, words

She demands to be heard
Only then will she quieten
It seems I am the only one with ears to listen
I am scared, fear she will take me over
I can barely hold on to my wits
Yet she cries on and on

I know that if I listen, I will have to take responsibility
I will have to fight her battles and slay her dragons
I am scared because I don’t have the right weaponry
I look around me but no one can help
It seems self-motivation is the only tool left
But how can I wield it when I have lost all sense of self?
And so, I ignore her and carry on day to day
The little girl inside me continues to cry
Unnoticed and unloved.