This Friday
I did something
That's totally
Out of character.
In opening up
And sharing
My self-harming secret
And the reasons
I harm myself.
Sure
In the past
I have written
And posted poems
About this.
(As I don't
Have to see
The reader's reaction
To my dark truths.)
(Thus
Don't feel like
I'm being judged
By them.)
But
Never shared
With someone
Who wasn't part
Of my healing team.
While
Dropping my shields
Even further.
By sharing
My passive anger
Towards myself.
Which
At times
Broils over.
Wishing
I had died
In November 1974
From the electrical burns
I had suffered
As a child.
Therisa © 2016
Author's note: Since January 2, 2014, I have been attending, on an on/off basis, an art program, for people, who have mental illness, and are trying to break through the barriers (stigmas) associated with it. Attending session, on Monday and Friday afternoons, whenever possible, for me. The above poem and breakthrough happened after the June 10th session, with another member, from the program, as we waited together, for the 506 streetcar, to take us, on our way home.
3 comments:
This is a powerful revelation. May your art help your health.
Thank you, Buddah, for your healing well wishes, to me. After the events of this past weekend, I welcome them.
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