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They Come to Me When Things Are Still

They come to me when things are still

And leave me without choice to hear

The things I've heard and know too well

Of tired topics,

To be clear

I, myself and just the ears

Without chance to think, or speak

It seems all I do is overhear

Their endless banter of 

Self critique

Seldom, do I have a moment

For myself

Today, for instance 

Was particularly loud

Whoever it was, was certainly right

That first said

"Three's a crowd"

I can't offer much of thought

Since theirs are all I know

I can only give my humble acount 

And let you have a go-

I'll introduce them as they came

How it was and 

Why it changed

It wasn't always as it is, you see

And how it is, is 

Quite the shame

Never the less, 

Let me begin

To tell of how it all became:


The Child

In the dawn, there was just one-

A child, so warm and bright

Whose heart beat with resilience!

A shimmering star in a 

Sea of night

Her laugh was like a

Summer song

As fresh as morning dew 

That settled softly in the light

To wake the day anew 

Her eyes were filled with magic

Her head, it danced with dreams

There never was a need for words when 

All was as it seemed

But as it does 

What is, became 

And all the ways it was before

Would never 

Be the same 

 

The Monster 

I remember well the 

Day it came 

The clouds that brought the 

Storm that changed

The summer sky and 

Satin breeze to 

Pouring 

Pounding 

Pelting rain

The wind grew fierce and 

Lightning striked

The sun, itself 

Froze cold in fright

For what more than this 

The clouds brought that day

Was the monster that never

Quite would go away

It ravaged what beauty was left

In the world 

And haunted 

And taunted that 

Poor little girl

Til she forgot all things good 

And hid out of fear

Always believing 

The monster was near

So she silenced her song 

To where all I could hear

Were the sounds of soft weeping 

And the trickle

Of tears

And the monster who

Laughed 

And who

Cackled and 

Sneered

But there's more to the story

No, it doesn't stop here!

For when loud got the loudest,

The other appeared 

 

The Mother

The child, still in hiding 

Who had only 

Herself

Imagined a world

That was anywhere else

With what dreams she had left

She escaped in her mind

And dreamed up a someone

Who could comfort her cries

She dreamed it so hard that 

One day it came true

And the little girl dreamer 

Split right in two

Half still the child

And half now the Mother

Now even in darkness

They both have each other 

 

But as for myself 

I find it exhausting, the 

Circle of dialogue becomes 

Somewhat daunting

Of the Child who weeps and

The Monster who's haunting 

And the Mother who comforts

But it's I

Who gets lost in

The three back and forth, you see

All day and 

Each night 

That keep me awake with 

No peace and 

No quiet 

For I am the vessel 

That holds the inside 

The body, imprisoned

By the thoughts in 

My mind

And the places I know 

And the people I've been

And that is the story

So far

The end. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

End rhymeshealingmental healthnarrative poem

◄ The Walls We Built

Lucky Girl ►

Comments

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Stephen Atkinson

Fri 22nd Jan 2021 17:27

A truly superb piece of poetry
Heartfelt, well crafted & flowing effortlessly throughout. ??

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Aviva Rifka Bhandari

Fri 22nd Jan 2021 08:11

What a heart-catching tale, told so melodically and well. I love the transition of sounds and pace in this part to reflect the sudden turbulence and power of the storm.

I remember well the
Day it came
The clouds that brought the
Storm that changed
The summer sky and
Satin breeze to
Pouring
Pounding
Pelting rain

<Deleted User> (28781)

Fri 22nd Jan 2021 03:23

I'm all I have for me
A friend, lover and my kindred self
A monster like devil attacks
Built a fort he can't break
But from windows he slyly approach
Won't kill him for anything
He will die his own death
Or when from outside he will be attacked
As for now I have comfort in me
Don't need anybody
I have an angel mother in me
I have an innocent self being protected by forces heavenly
So demons can try and make me weep
But they can't attain any victory in destroying me
So the story begins.

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