Lost in the past

There are days  when it feels like I am reliving my past and though sometimes this can be good it can also be bad. Like many others I was bullied at school and the long lasting effects are far greater than I feel most people realise. Depending on the circumstance the emotional battle that goes on can be huge so here's  just a little taste.

My eyes they lie to me with things that cannot be,
a catalogue of fractured images
that rage within for me to see and no one else.
The litany of mistakes, of losses and humiliations
I’m in a past that frightens me, in thoughts of my inadequacy

So many voices speak at once, yet still I hear the sneering kids.
An icy blast speeds up my heart and dulls my head.
Frozen from within I know not what response to give.
Lost in a ring of shouted insults I feel my anger prickle
but drowning in my fears I cannot breath.

Tearing apart my life the past it bleeds into the present
it shapes my thoughts and guides me in my misery.
So easy to believe it’s now and not so long ago
it erases all the good that has come since
and I am lost in a past that will not let me go.

What lies beneath

Just a quickie but this little ditty probably sums up  how I feel some days, over looked and overwhelmed however it doesn't take much to realise that the world is full of people who feel exactly the same as me and whom a little kindness in any form would be greatly appreciated.

The world does not suspect what is beneath
my placid face too tired to respond to shock or pain.
There is little left that animates.
The noise, the strain, the ceaseless negativity and pain
have left their mark, I smile and acquiesce.

The world looks upon my face but briefly,
does not think too deeply nor too much about me
but thinks instead of it’s own life of what it needs, and what it hasn’t got.
It passes by with joy and pain but not with sympathy,
unable to see what else is there when full of strife itself.

In gratitude

I have to say that when I hear a good line I tend to remember it so even though this is mine it is in part because of some rather fine lyrics by VNV Nation (Gratitude). I have also kept the style and length too becuase it suited my purpose although I don't think the people who wrote the lyrics would be at all impressed with it but still.


It is not love that sparks as you run after another
Nor belief that stays the tears of fear.
I just could not bring myself to be gone:
numbed to the core by insults so subtle,
every day an echo of the last, an erosion of my soul.
Without reason, my place is to endure
a fracturing of self that slowly crumbles.
‘Til nothings left of what was my former self.

My god, however did I survive,
the regret of what was lost, of what I never have been.
Thank you for never letting me become like you,
for never wanting me, and for leaving me behind. 

You inspired in me a disgust of ever being like you,
A conviction and a purpose to find a better way to be,
the strength and courage to endure beyond all reason what was a living hell.

Sometimes I wish that you could see me now
to know me as I am, a better person for your trials.
Sometimes I wish that you might understand the hell you put me through
the damage that you did. To close the wounds,
and end the chapter in forgiveness,
but nothing would change, we make the best of what we have.
We are measured by the actions of our lives,
and not the trials we overcome.
We are seen for what we have done.

My God, however do I live with what has been
without regret or guilt for the part I played in it.
Thank you to those who questioned, for the doubts you did express
you saved my life and comforted my broken soul
it inspired in me a desire to live
to all who helped along the way, who gave so much
I write this in gratitude the least that you deserve
for the battles you helped me fight,
the hope that you instilled and for the things you never knew you did

that meant so much to my tortured self.

You call me a misery like it's a bad thing

Because some days are just not that great!



I look at the world like it’s gone mad,

a place of violence and anger, where to shout and rage gets things done:
kids take up arms, the adults shrug like they didn’t do a thing
where people die to make a point,
and I cry for what is lost.
You call me a misery like it’s a bad thing
to cry over the dead, the torture, the wars of world: it’s a waste, just let it go
but to see the pain without remorse, without a twinge, how can you live

I look around this world with paper thin smiles
where laughter dies too quick, tiredness resounds and worry rages.

You party like tomorrow is already gone, where it doesn’t matter if you survive,

it’s the journey that counts.
I cry for what you missed while drunk and high.
You call me a misery like it’s a bad thing,
to party so hard you can’t remember the fun, the people :it’s Friday night, you just gotta
where what is missed cannot be remembered, how can you know you were happy?


I look around as people pick themselves up, again,
make up stories of their escapades and laugh like they can remember it all.
I watch as people laugh too, not knowing what they have lost
alone in their own memories
and I cry for the isolation you can’t but feel,
You call me a misery like it’s a bad thing
when I see the broken heart, countless amounts of offense you caused,

was it really all that good you want to do it all again tomorrow, how can you live?

I watch as people sleep walk through their lives
past those in need, ignoring the pain of others and animals alike.
A shell on it’s way to work
and I cry for us all
you call me a misery like it’s a bad thing
I’m trying to find the happiness I see you ignoring every day
set on a path that leads you to the same tomorrow you had today