Archive for August, 2011

If You Really Knew Me

Posted in Poetry on August 30, 2011 by Terri L. Johnson

If you really knew me…

 

I’m a single parent of four beautiful children

I make it on my own yet

I’m finding it tough to handle things.

 

it’s hard to keep a smile on the outside

knowing that you are not doing

all you can without any strings

attached.

 

It breaks my heart

when I see my little souls cry.

Only to get hurt by the dad who

has scratched

them out of his life.

 

light wounds left festering,

forgotten and infected.

Withering with

self hatred, guilt and anger.

 

Blaming themselves for a relationship

they had no control of

for a marriage they didn’t

set anchor to.

 

their parents blindingly

set their paths,

knowingly raked their backs

of the common thread of disease

known as misleading love and abuse.

 

Abuse of the soul.

their souls that were left

barely whole

from parents abuse

of selfish lies and misguided cries.

 

I cry for my children each and every day

knowing I failed them in a very special way.

I still know I can’t ever make things okay.

Because I was part of the problem

and now they have to pay.

 

I condemn myself

a thousand times over.

knowing I can never

quite recover

all that I took from them.

 

I hang my head in self hate.

Point my own fingers in self blame.

Spill my own tears in judgment

only to know I will forever feel

their pain.

 

I know I’ am not a good parent

and I know I have wronged my loves.

If you really knew me…

being the one who hurt them,

is something I’m not proud of.

 

I made them witness my pain.

Made them see my shame.

Now I only have myself to blame.

for the spark of anger in their hearts

that will soon turn into a rage of flames.

 

I count in seconds if not minutes

each time they grow,

knowing that the memories i helped

imprint is something they will never

let go.

 

If you really knew me…

you’d know

That I can’t bear to do this alone.

That truth be told I’m scared,

to make this journey on my own.

 

But yet if I set the clock back,

new memories of different attacks

will come to be….

of lives that were never quite free.

 

I scarred my children

with scenes of filth.

Now all I have left is the pity

and the guilt.

 

So if you really knew me…

 

You’d see….

that it’s hard just to be….

knowing of what I have guided from.

Hoping that my children

are not products of what I have become.

 

If you really knew me…

 

© Copyrights August 26, 2011.  By Terri Johnson

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Her Tears

Posted in Poetry on August 24, 2011 by Terri L. Johnson

Her Tears ~

 

They were messages sent from the dark.

Sent from hate to deliver straight from the heart.

She couldn’t just leave it.

She went to him.

 

Her curiosity got the best of her.

her anger was the spark.

It was only a matter of time,

before the shit hit the fan.

 

She got to the scene of the crime.

Yet she didn’t know it was

where the storm would erupt.

Thunder could be heard in the distance.

 

Violent shouts of spattered sound waves

reverberated throughout the night.

Waving fists were flown here and there.

Minutes past.

seconds slowly ticked by.

 

He grabbed her arms and held her

in his steel grip.

She could feel his anger

tremor throughout his body.

 

Her fear and anger mingled with

an uncertain tingle.

A pounding started in her head,

and followed a path straight to

her neck.

 

Like angry mosquito’s.

pinching,

piercing,

not giving an inch.

 

It was the calm before the storm.

The message that had been warned,

a telling she ignored.

For which now she has sworn,

her anger and justice scorned.

 

One night gone haywire.

a night inked in bloody fire.

A message of black satire.

A fate that turned dire.

 

Now only she pays the price.

Her hidden silence

of lies,

catching up to the bruises

and fallen tears that she cries.

 

Fallen tears that only she feels

hidden tears that only she can see.

Blinded tears that only fall

with the scene in her mind,

coming in cadence

with her fears.

 

©Copyright August 23, 2011.  By Terri Johnson