PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A million times I’ve thought about the pain I feel.
A million times I’ve ignored that little girl in me who wants to come out to be revealed.
It’s funny how I can hear her wishes.
Wishing for something that won’t ever come.
Wishing for a little relief to stop being the woman who she’s become.
She wishes for her memories to go away.
But at the same time she feels that it’s her family who she’ll betray.
What if she moves on with her life?
If she runs into them later, will it be her heart or their heart that will be sliced?
Will it reopen wounds that she’s trying to let go?
Or will it be a simple “Hello”?
She can’t deal with the possible outcome of her thoughts.
She can’t forget those painful memories of hurt that she’s tried to ignore and fought.
So she’s wishing. Wishing for a time of peace.
She’s wishing to come right out of me.
But wishes don’t come true.
They’re only fantasies you dream about from the things that you’ve been through.
So her next method to try is hope.
Hoping that she lives normally and her feelings won’t be provoked.
Hoping that her mother makes it through this.
Hoping she’ll feel the embrace of her sisters love that she’ll never try to resist.
She hopes that her brother goes down the right path.
Hoping for herself to find a love that will last.
Now she’s thinking what is hope?
It’s a feeling hat rises up, but it can also be broke.
It contains the feelings of uncertainty.
And that’s when it strikes!
The hurt and pain of a cruel reality.
She looks at herself in the mirror,
then turns to look at the world and how it seems so much bigger.
She realizes that she’s always felt this way.
She’s felt it every single day.
She knows her life will never be the same.
She sees no beauty in her or in the world and she knows she’s to blame.
Now she knows she’s not the only one effected.
She’s caused great pain for the ones she’s loved and protected.
So now she looks for a place to hide right inside of me.
Because she prefers her wishes and hopes against the pain of her cruel reality.

By: Twylla Medina