Poetry

Poem: Wounded

I’ve been reminded over vaguely recent times, of a long ago past, or rather, the more unsavoury aspects. Never before have the words “there but for the grace of God go I” been more pertinent.

Because I have been reminded of something a long time ago, I decided to dig out the poems from that era and relook at them a tad.

This one is about the fact that someone who decided it was a jolly good idea to pick me up and play with me whenever it suited them, had had their route back into my life shut off by me simply not backing down or letting them win.

I kinda trapped them in their new life and apparently, it made this person really, really cross. This person had hoped I’d turn into a meek, wavering little flower, unable to deal with the frost they buried me under, waiting for them to shine on me, making me worthy of them again.

Seriously, they bragged to someone that this was their great plan and had been terribly smug about how easy it would be.

Then I declared ‘No More’.

This is my poetic way of saying: “Tough shit pal. You will never break me and I don’t care anymore if it breaks you. You’ve hurt me beyond my capacity to cope too many times, now it’s your turn. Have a “nice” life. Tatty-bye”.

 

Wounded

Smash yourself hard

Against a wall

Scream yourself deaf

In your hall

Bleed yourself dry

On your bed

 

Can’t have me back

Can’t have me dead

 

Scratch at your eyes

To blind me away

Plead out my name

Every day

Rage to remember

What I said

 

Can’t have me back

Can’t have me dead

 

22nd August 2003

I think we meet people like this person from time to time in life. Those who purportedly care about you, yet abuse you instead and expect you to always be there when it suits them.

This poem is a way of shutting the door in the face of more torture, much to the horror and annoyance of the other party.

You have to get to a point with some people you meet in life where you don’t care any more what they think or how they’ll react if you close them out of your world. You have to stop caring at some point about whether or not they will be upset and just concentrate on you.

I hope this finds some familiarity within a very strong part of you.

Cat x

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2 thoughts on “Poem: Wounded”

  1. Cat I am sorry about the subject matter but this is a great poem. It would make an awesome song! Eerie and dark, a little scary.

    1. Hiya Neeks my dear, hope you’re well. Thanks for the comment and for having a read. I think your right, it would make a great song indeed! It came from a dark place I think to reflect the other party. C xxx

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