What is reality?

My poems lately are very dark.  Not all accurately represent my reality in this or any moment.  Some of them are just a way to release the poison the past has laid within my mind and soul.  I am doing okay,  The poems share parts of the fabric of my life and in writing them they help me process it.

I often put poems that deem incomplete into drafts. However I rarely change them, which is what happened with this one. Hope you enjoy it.  Any feedback on how I could improve it or the appearance on the page etc are really welcome!!!


How is it that some of the most real moments in my life,

are dragged from the depths of my past?

Why is it not the good parts of my life dominating,

they are the most recent, where is their voice?


I am more than the sum of my abuse and tragedy

I am more than my shattered career

I am more than the woman that hides at home

And yet that woman is more of a memory than reality


When I write poems they spring forth complete

There is the editing to tighten what is written

But the content and connotations remain strong

I never had this with long forms of writing


It is a gift these poems, although for the reader,

That may not seem to be true, they are quite dark

They share the words of an oft shattered mind

No pretense, no holding back in any way


I am more real in weaving these poems

Than I feel I can be with people I know and love

Which says so much more about me than them

So much damage, some self inflicted, restricts my speech

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