Friday, 20 May 2016

A Sad Reality (May 19, 2016)

Cut the soul
Like a hot knife
Through butter.

As it weeps
Bitter salty tears
That corrodes everything
They touch.

A confident young child
Into a cowering baby.

Of its own shadow
And loud noises.

The punches
Fall like
A steady rainstorm
Upon the body.

The runoff collects
In red pools
Staining everything
In a shade of rust.

That comes
Into contact
With it.

Gather around
To watch
The latest
Afterschool fight.

Letting loose
Their blood thirsty
Savage side
In a circle of hate.

All rules of war
Don't exist.

Just win.

That poor excuse
Who got pommelled
Within inches
Of their life.

"Join the crowd
In celebrating
The glorious victory
Over that wimp."
Never mind
The victor is
Most despite bully
In the school.

Or that
The vanquished
Will go home
And attempt suicide

Only failing
The knot came

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: There are elements of my own life, interweaved, within the above poem. As for those people, who think, things will get better, are totally out to lunch, in believing a simplex slogan, will change a person's life. Sorry, honey that only works, in Hollywood. What is really needed, is a strong supporting network that breaks through the sense of isolation, which is compounded by a feeling of helplessness and hopelessness, that this type of oppression will ever end.

I think, if this type of support had existed, for me, during the 1970s and 1980s, I wouldn't be so traumatized and suffering severely, from mental illness, like I am. I know, only speculation, on my part, but leading thought is proving that measures that support and break through isolation, will reduce occurrence of mental illness and suicide attempts. Something, the current health system has been short, in delivering.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Featured post

Chance Encounter (March 13, 2017)

July 21, 2006. A date Forever etched Into my memory. As if Done by A laser. By mistake And pure chance. I enter...