With My Pencil and Paper

With My Pencil and Paper

A Poem by Zeldablue
"

Silent No More

"

I write because
Nobody seems to
hear my words.
Ever

They are snatched out the air
by the vultures that encircle
me every day,
picking away at the lies
they have carved into my skin
leaving nothing but
exposed rage,
and the knife they so
gently inserted into my back
hoping I wouldn't notice,
but can feel slowly twisting
into my spine,
like your trying to find that
perfect song on a road trip
to my brain.
Except somehow you got
distracted by my ADHD,
swerved into my Insomnia
and crashed head on into
a migraine
and now your stuck on
Repeat
Repeat
Repeat
like a magician yelling
Abracadabra
I pulled my self esteem
out of a hat the other
day and handed it to God
praying he wouldn't drop it.

Yesterday, I tripped over my
smile, thinking it was a
crack in the sidewalk before
watching it dissolve into a
puddle of anxiety.

Now, they say how people see
you is not how you see yourself.
I find that ironic since I'm often
told that I'm too skinny,
I'm too independent,
that I fidget too much
and that sometimes I
just need to
"sit still and look pretty".
But truthfully sometimes
I wonder whether
I'm pretty enough to sit still.

I've always been told that I'm
a B***h, coincidently, most
often by the people who
treated me like s**t and
turned me into one. Who then
get upset when I turn
around and start treating
them like the heartless b*****s
that they are.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you weren't
expecting that were you?
Well you seem to of underestimated
me, and that's funny."
Because laughing at fire is
dangerous, especially when your
candy coated shell is made of
alcohol and irresponsibility
and your Twizzlers are filled
with all that can be cooked
crushed or smoked.

"I'm starving," you say to me,
as you reach your shaky hands
into your seemingly bottomless
bag of skittles, pulling out
your demons 1 by 1 by 1 equals
3 times you went to rehab,
each time you came home,
you shared a drink with the
devil and went searching for
your soul in the darkest of
alley ways even you were
afraid to walk down.

"Mama, where's Daddy?"

"Mama, why is Daddy always
sleeping?"

"Mama, why is Daddy always
sick?"

Mama, Mama, Mama,
her tiny voice echoes in my
ears until that one day
when he calls me a B***h
in front of her.

"Oh"... I say, looking down
at her precious face,
watching the innocence
slowly drip from her
broken mirrors.

"Go play with your sister
Sweetie, I'll be right there."

"But," she says.

"Go ahead Sweetie, after I'm
done talking with your Daddy,
I'm gonna take you and your
sister to the park.

"A B***h?" I say to him.
That must be Japanese for
Thank You for raising our
daughters, Oh excuse me,
MY daughters. Because while
you've been out playing
Russian Roulette with the
Boogeyman, I've been playing
Queen and King to MY
little Princesses in this tragic
fairy tale based on deceit
and lies.

Our castle crumbling into your
ocean of Alcoholism and
splashing onto the rocky shores
of your drug addiction.

So if being a B***h means
taking care of MY princesses,
making sure their tiaras
never slip, and loving them
more than any kingdom in the
universe, then I guess that
makes me the Goddess of
B***h.

And then poof, we were gone.
Because as you all know,
you can't make fire feel afraid
and I am a raging inferno.

But alas, through the smoke
and ashes, darkness turns
 to light and an angel appears
handing me 3 doves.

The first, a green dove.
I've known this dove since
April 24th 1979.
We used to hold hands and
stand on the edge of the
volcano together,
waiting for it to explode.
Then sprint off into the woods
after the eruption and climb
the trees to escape the lava
that flowed from our
Rageaholic mother.

If your not familiar with the
term Rageaholic, it's very
similar to an alcoholic, except
that my mother's favorite
beverage wasn't exactly
alcohol, but she did drink
from the same violent cup
as her mother and her mother's
mother. A toxic blend of bad
decisions, regret and resentment,
only to be thrown up daily
into her daughters' subconscious
and by frequent reminders of
her favorite colors,
black and blue.
My Sister, Always there for me.
Always.
Love you more than you know.

The 2nd, A pink dove.
We buzz in and out of
the beehive everyday
together, hoping the
exterminators don't get
us before 5:00pm.
Busy worker bees,
laughing through another
day of outward smiles and
inward screams.
Our friendship, golden,
sweet and thick like honey.
Strong like our trust and
fearless like sisters.
Love you.

And the 3rd. A purple dove
I call Enchantment.
She is the most beautiful
dove I have ever seen in
my life.
She flies with sapphire wings,
lavender eyes and a spirit so bright,
she's like heaven on earth.
My heart dances to the beat
of her happiness,
and her smile,
the most perfect crescent moon
the stars have ever seen.
My Best Friend and Sweet Love.
Always see yourself as I see you,
for your soul is pure and glitters
like the sun.
Believe in your Magnificence,
and don't be afraid to open
your heart to love my darling.
because, not all who love you
are going to break it.
Love you til my last breath.

But this is why
I write, because
nobody seems to
hear my words.
Ever.



© 2017 Zeldablue



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This was a whirlwind of processing and responding. It's such a marvel to read. The constant return to difficulty in life is relatable, but that's not a main point. This piece speaks so much, at such a volume it should be deafening, but it's crystal clear. It's strength and humility, it's insanity and clarity. This is the kind of work I love to come across because it's so authentic and awakening. Great, phenomenal work.

Posted 2 Weeks Ago


Zeldablue

2 Weeks Ago

Thank you very much!

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Added on April 18, 2017
Last Updated on April 30, 2017
Tags: Spoken Word, Inspirational

Author

Zeldablue
Zeldablue

About
When she is quiet There is a reason. She is sorting through All the chaos in Her head... And all the madness In her heart. LLK more..

Writing
Odd Odd

A Poem by Zeldablue