Enough is Enough

I wrote this poem last night when I felt extremely low and depressed. It was honestly how I felt at the time. Today, not a lot has changed, but please be assured that I’ll be okay, Writing is my only way of releasing my pain and deepest feelings, as you all know, so I needed to express this. Love, Ellie Xxx 💗

Ellie Thompson


Jagged boulders tumbling down
the mountainside on me
I stand poised for the impact
when I really ought to flee

~~~

The rocky ground below me
trembles as they land
missing me by inches
that wasn’t what I’d planned

~~~

The malicious demon at the top
starts throwing down his flame
He’s thirsty for a death
Should I play his little game?

~~~

I’m exhausted from the fighting
with this dreadful, awful stuff
I feel I can’t go on
Because enough is enough

~~~

Suicide’s not painless
And I can vouch for that
For someone else is sitting
In the seat where I once sat.





(Image source – Image by Goran Horvat from Pixabay)





Another Day

(Image source – Photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash)

The day will put down roots on my shoulders tonight

These past vacant hours disappeared

Into dense, heavy clouds above me

Exhaustion sets in, and my muscles are taught

Like the strings of an old, dusty Stradivarius

Playing a lullaby to aid my slumber

~~~

I am sore and weary through lack of rest and repose

Seconds blended into minutes, into days, into weeks

Time evaporating my ongoing sense of self

Another day I have to pull myself up by my bootlaces

And face the world and the human race and smile

When under my skin, tears of pain and sorrow overwhelm me

~~~

Why another day when I have had so many already

packed tightly together, melting into months and seasons

I long for the navy sky, littered with bright stars

The darkness was once my friend; now sleep evades me

I need sweet dreams. I have only nightmares

But I have made it through this day against all odds

~~~

So, how do I get through yet another day

When sometimes, I hardly know myself at all

Yet sometimes, I know myself too much, and it hurts

And my ideas and thoughts sit heavy on my mind

It has been this way for far too long

I will search out escape routes to get some relief.

Rage

Image source – http://www.peakpx.com

I thought very seriously about sharing this poem. I originally wrote it several years ago, but I’ve updated it since then. It’s about the internal anger, which I feel now that it’s no longer possible to be angry with the appropriate person. Not knowing how to deal with my rage, despite my therapist’s suggestions of punching cushions, screaming into pillows, yelling to loud music etc., the only outlet I have for my feelings is my writing. I hope you will understand my reason for sharing this somewhat uncomfortable and sombre poem, and please know that I don’t wish to offend anyone who may read this.


How do I shield my mind, my darling

from the wrath, I have towards myself

or the tongue, as sharp as a blade

that spits bitter words with every breath?

~~~

My soul shrouded by secrets untold,

whipped by the wind in a hot desert storm

beaten against fresh, fair skin;

sour, narrow eyes, blinking.

~~~

My spirit dances with hollow sighs

and its shadow falls and tumbles

into the darkest of clouds;

tears flow freely into the midnight sky.

~~~

But now, my scarlet demons

run screeching from the hills

and the steep mountains rage;

 and then forever hushed.

AFTERTHOUGHT …

Perish

I hide between layers of darkness and grime
The soot-black air rasping through my lungs
among the smoke and ash
There I find my home

If there were a breeze
to cleanse away the pollution in my mind
oh, what relief would be had
and perhaps I would be saved

I lay my rags upon the ground
and sink my face, guilt and shame
into the grit and dirt below me
as the wind howls over my bones

There is no saving or comfort
for the likes such as I
who perish in the storm whipping up
My shadow is all that remains of me.

Dancing in the Shadows

Reality she feigns so well

Till the closet doors slam shut

A sureness of the truth becomes

A feeling from the gut

~~~

She’s dancing in the shadows

Tar running through her veins

Weaving webs of gossamer

Till nothing pure remains

~~~

Just then her hushed emotions

Tucked carefully away

Go screeching to the hills

As night follows on from day

~~~

The darkness wears disguises

Where her heart and soul had been

Closely guarded secrets

Always clever, never seen

~~~

And the devil burns so brightly

When the skeletons come out

The enigma slowly surfacing

Until there is no doubt

The Visitor

I know the sun is shining, and the blossom in full bloom

But an air of deep depression permeates this room

The ‘black dog’, Churchill called it; I can understand just why

It’s by no means unfamiliar; a common passer-by

It’s not a welcome visitor, nor did it ask permission

To come and lodge a while, so I eye it with suspicion

It has visited before, this dark presence in my brain

Oh, how I bid it leave me and not return again.

Passage of Time

Please forgive my indulgence in sharing this poem with you. I thought long and hard about publishing it, even writing it initially. This post follows my two previous ones, Dissociative Healing and Brave. They are all a part of the process.

I’m aware that my posts, mainly poems, of late, have been dark. I’m currently working through my thoughts and feelings about this with my counsellor. She is helping a lot, and I know I will get through this before too long. However, today, I needed to write this straight out of my heart, which is where all my writing comes from. It’s the only way I know how to write.

My intention is not to cause distress to any of my readers, although I’m aware that others may possibly have been through such traumatic experiences.


Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick
The metronome ticks the minutes away
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick
It regularly beats without a delay

She hears it, hears it, hears it now
All the way from childhood days
No choice for her but fear and pain
To come and go from this toxic place

Come day, come week, come every month
Nothing ever changed
Come birthdays, Christmas, year on year
Becoming more deranged

She trod on the cracks along the road
She’ll be punished for that, to be sure
Nearer and nearer she’d get
Ringing the bell on the the door

Waiting, waiting, waiting for time
Knowing she’s headed downstairs
Panic, fear and desperation
He’ll be seated on one of the chairs

She’s greeted by the metronome
Knowing what’s in store
She’s swallowing down the terror
And tightly clenching her jaw

She’s beckoned within, the time has come
The door bangs behind her – it’s shut
The bolt is shot, and she’s trapped inside
As she’s made to be the slut

Come, come, come sit on my knee
Just you do as you’re told
Her heartbeat faster and faster
She’s only eight years old

Don’t tell, don’t tell, don’t tell a soul
They’ll be trouble if you do
So she silenced herself right there and then
Not knowing this was taboo

After years passed, the news got out
Not from her but another source
Someone else told their story
He denied it all, of course

The police were called immediately
Spoke to her Mum and her Dad
She was frozen solid to the core
Because she’d been told she was bad

She didn’t want to cause any trouble
She silently tucked it inside
The grown-ups shrugged their shoulders
While she crept up to her room and died.




 












The Shadow

I see a shadow in the mirror that I barely recognise

But a stranger in my room? No, I think not

But then, could I be mistaken? I’m not sure if I’d know

So, I carefully take aim and fire a shot

~~~

There’s a scream to be heard but is it him or is it me?

Is he wounded, lying bleeding on the floor?

Does my heart possess a scar or open wound to see?

Or has he crept very quietly out the door?

~~~

But, it’s late now; nearly black and the night is pulling in

Can you see him? Is he hiding out the back?

I am cautious, naturally; almost scared to take a look

Is he sane; a simple fool; a maniac?

~~~

There’s a monster in my mirror, and he’s staring back at me

Leave politely, shut the door and go away!

He won’t listen to my pleading, and he doesn’t hear me cry

Now it’s dark, and he’s bedded down to stay.

(Image source unknown)