She was beautiful
when I met her..
Blonde hair..
Porcelain skin..
Like an angel walking on earth..
Beautiful both outside and in..
But then she had to become
a zombie.
ECA rules..
Two pills in the morning
To keep you calm..
Make sure you don't have any
Thoughts of your own.
Take orders
Make your bed
Wash the floors..
Every chore
Worth two points or more..
Institutional robots
That is what they are.
Watch your friend
slice her face..
Even robots find
A way to escape.
She walks down the hallway..
Blood flows through
Open wounds...
She does not want to be saved.
So tired of living this way.
Existing.
On points and rules..
Like a machine..
Not human..
Not of this world..
She dreams only of
Being in her mothers arms..
when she was a little girl..
It gets harder
To find her memories..
Through the haze of these drugs..
She does not want to live..
She no longer has family..
No home..
No love...
No longer a pretty girl..
She took away her face..
The same face her mother had..
But her mothers gone..
Her mothers dead..
Now she will
Never have to worry..
About finding love someday....
No one has to care..
No one has to know..
She takes her own life..
This is the one thing
SHE alone controls.
She closes her eyes
Dreams only of being
in her mothers arms..
When she was just a girl..
This is all she craves
and hopes to find again
as she leaves this world.
This is powerfully so true .
Drugs will demand your time , family, friends money and finally your life .
This poem needs to be read aloud to those who may want to experience drugs .
This is so harrowing Erica...you have seen such a dark side of life. From your eyes as well as the eyes of the people in your life. I think it is your ability to write about it and write so well, that keeps you alive.
Incredible writing.
Better you capture pain than pain capture you. There are too many sad stories in this world. Too many people in a nightmare and we can't wake them up. And when being there for them means being in the nightmare...have to watch so carefully for burn out.
I love the opportunity to help people in my job, but I'm almost too sensitive to do it.
Almost.
John
Erica, this is sooooo sad. I know well of the feelings of craving for mother's love and wanting to be cradled in mother's arms. This one is soooo real and so expressive, I can relate to the feelings so well. Hope it was just a fiction.
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
Drugs will demand your time , family, friends money and finally your life .
This poem needs to be read aloud to those who may want to experience drugs .
Nancy
((((Hugs))))
~Nikki~
Love YF
tony
Peace,
Cherokee
It's as though these emotional words could be the essence of pain perfectly sculpted and chiseled in ice...
Wonderful... :)
--Karissa
Chrissie
this is so sad sweetie it touches
Hugs
Peg
Excellent, and beautifully sad,
Reindeer
Better you capture pain than pain capture you. There are too many sad stories in this world. Too many people in a nightmare and we can't wake them up. And when being there for them means being in the nightmare...have to watch so carefully for burn out.
I love the opportunity to help people in my job, but I'm almost too sensitive to do it.
Almost.
John
Sandie Angel :o(