My Demons

true poem about my life

I am hardcore; I’ve been through it all

I’ve fell to my knees as I watched my dreams fall.

I may look put together but I am far from.

You have no idea of the things that I’ve done.

 

I am strong, but sometimes I do crumble.

They don’t know the full stories that leave me troubled.

They’re not stuck inside with these memories,

The memories that just keep haunting me.

 

When I was young and I was raped

And I knew that I had made a mistake,

By meeting that man life was never the same.

It crumbled downhill and soaked me like rain.

 

And I remember telling my mom after the fact

That her thirteen year old daughter wanted her virginity back.

And we held each other and we both cried,

But I made the same mistake again, why oh why?

 

I never learned my lesson, I dwelled on pain.

I was so stupid, making the same decisions again.

I always thought that it wouldn’t be the same,

But my hopes were almost always in vain.

 

And when I met him, it was like a drug,

Like I could never ever get enough.

I just knew he would change if I gave him time,

Because I was to be his girl, and him mine.

 

I don’t know what I was thinking, why didn’t I leave?

Why didn’t I drop my pride and call somebody?

I should have left before it went too far,

Before we got into the rental car.

 

I always trusted him, I don’t know why.

Even through the rapes and black eyes.

I’d just get a bottle and escape my reality.

I’d slide back into the non-existent fantasy.

 

Wonderland was what I would always long for,

For him to just smile and walk through the door

And not beat or bribe or belittle me,

But to accept me for the person I could be.

 

But I was never enough, not physically or otherwise;

Just a niggar, a w***e, someone to despise;

Somebody to play with and break their heart.

He said it was too easy to leave me distraught.

 

I think of these men, I think of my choices

And in my mind I still hear their voices

Belittling me when I look in the mirror,

Telling me I’ll never be good enough and I whimper.

 

I hear their voices and I crumble again,

It’s as if I’m 13, 14, 15 years old again.

It’s as if their still here, tearing me apart

Telling me all the things that I am not.

 

They tell me I’m not smart, tell me I’m retarded,

Not even worth their time, something to be disregarded.

They tell me I’m fat, that I have to lose weight,

Tell me that I’m lucky and not worth a date.

 

And I sit in my room, and I can’t help but cry

Even though now I have an amazing guy

Who tells me I’m beautiful and intelligent and going far

I still think of those times and all the emotional scars.

 

I wonder if these men knew how deeply they’d sever

my heart, my self esteem, and my future endeavors.

It’s not fair that one’s dead, and he doesn’t have to think

About all the s**t that he did to me.

 

Yet I’m still alive, living through it all

As if it just happened a few minutes ago in the hall.

Not fair that I have to relive all the scenes

That were sick and disgusting and simply obscene.

 

Not fair that he got it on camera and on tape

So that others can get off on the pain he’d create.

How could I let such a thing happen to me?

All this pain and hate and hurt inside of me.

 

I try to work on it in therapy when, but when I walk in

I think there’s so much that went on, where do I begin?

And I get off topic and talk about the present,

About school and my dad and the damn elections.

 

And then I leave and the darkness is still inside,

Killing me deep from the inside.

Their words still carved into my mind

Where even there I cannot hide.

 

Author's Note

This is a true poem about my life, so please don't go too hard on the reviews. I just really needed to get this out. Thank you

Reviews

[Sacha Davison]

A very heart-wrenching piece. Weak men do horrible things to strong women. To have to live with those memories is something I would never wish upon any human being. You are very brave for posting such a personal writing. You have earned my highest respect, as well as my greatest condolences. Thank you for venting and allowing us all to read your tragic tale.

[taboo.poet]

thank you :)

[Not Your Typical New Yo..]

I'm so sorry this had happened to you. To be very honest, I actually have tears in my eyes as I'm writing this review. I wish I could write more, dear, but all I could say is this one of the most powerful and deep and well expressed and sad poems I've ever read. Hope is well.

[C.]

This made me cry :/ It was so sad. I'm so very sorry this happened to you. And, by the way, I know it's hard, but don't listen to those memories of them telling you that you are stupid or fat or anything like this. It's not true in the slightest.

[taboo.poet]

thank you :)

[Damien Davison]

A very from-the-heart piece. It is good to get these things out and written down. The only way to let go of the past is to not focus on it, not dwell on it. When thoughts about the past arise, no matter the trauma, the only way to truly heal is by working on changing your minds thinking patterns. It is used to reliving and reliving and dwelling. The conscious effort needs to be made to start working on the healing , taking true steps to accept. I'm just going on, just trying to help. Thanks a lot for sharing.

[Coyote Poetry]

A honest and straight forward poem. Everybody made errors and mistakes. Addiction and desire can lead us down good and bad roads. I tell people. Never rate another life. Never know they had seen and done. Life is learning. Most of us learn by mistakes. Thank you for sharing the poem. Repetition of mistakes can lead you into dangerous waters. A wise person tried not to repeat the same mistakes. Thank you for sharing the excellent poem.
Coyote