You made me hate myself 
Made me think 
that I was
Not good enough
Not perfect enough 
To be your daughter 
I wanted to leave 
But you told me stories,
Made me terrified of the world so I stayed 
However things got worse 
And we both got in a fight 
And you kick me out in the middle of the night 
I felt broken and I was scared 
But I didn't let this destroy me
I found a place 
Where I felt comfortable and safe 
And I'm doing just fine
I still hate myself
But that's alright
Because one day
Your words will mean nothing to me
Just a thing of the past 
And I know that I will be able to say that
I am good enough
I am perfect enough 
And that I love myself


To My Wife

I would say I miss you

But you no longer care

You left long before your body

And left me alone with yourself


I'm always thinking of you

Everyone says you aren't worth it

Maybe they're right...

But I thought you were


I wish we could be “us” again

But do I truly miss you

Or simply the relationship we had?

I guess I'll never know


You've kept me at a distance

So far I'd never reach you

Now I suppose I've finally decided

To stop trying

Sweet Silent Scream


Enveloped in sheets, in silence,

The sheets stay still, 

But in the mind is the scream--

the visit from you that won't stop


I see you; you do not,

I scream, plead and cry,

And you go on and on, with your life,


All I want, all I need, is to be 

needed, and wanted


You cry, and I scream to let me

Soothe your pain, to let me 

help in any way, 


and you stare into the distance, 

while I'm in limbo stuck,

in this sickly state I stare:


I want to be released. To let go and yet

Somehow this is still a.

sweet, silent.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Somehow, nightmares just keep repeating. 


And yet somehow, we are sometimes most alive then. 

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Last Climb One Last Time


Each moment, struggling to swim,

The sun is over; the light dims,

My hands grasp the jagged rocks,

Familiar feeling of faint fury--


stuck in a loop


stuck in a loop.


Rest as the waves lap,

look up and see 

the climb ahead 


Memory serves anguish

knowing each climb has been

slow and when it seems over


the tide comes roaring in


to claim its victim back

to its dark blue depths


the cold is setting in 

and I'll climb again


The climb, easy now,

The top, close,

Fingertips reaching and 

desperation, sets in 


Navy blue screaming to

Bring back its body


a smile sweeps across

as salty water erupts


At least I know this is 


the last climb. 

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My mind is gone

My brain is lapsing,

My body is weak

My spirit collapsing.


I am here in flesh

but absent in mind,

My inner self is crying

but what you see, is fine.


Lost in this puzzling world

and I lost all the pieces,

I'm scattered brain

walking in shame,

as my overloading thoughts increases.


What do I do

Where do I go

How do I see

How do I know

What should I say

Who should I ask...


One day, in time

I won't have to wear this Mask.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

January 30, 2018.

I look forward to the day, my mind sets me free of this darkness

Losing with grace

Maybe you are right Sally. Maybe I should never have expected anything more. Maybe it's hard because it's not meant for me. I am tired of fighting this. So here on the bathroom floor, while everyone else is sleeping peacefully not knowing about the complete failure I am, I give up. That's it, no more fight left in me, no more speed Scotty. I gave 'er all she's got, it wasn't enough.

I wasn't meant for greatness. No glory shown for me. I have always been a extra, straining to been seen in the shot. I was never the star. Not all mathletes are scientists and not everyone in drama club will see Broadway. I am not as special as I think. Someone has to loose this race. You said I shouldn't have even showed. I wish I hadn't.

I am all out of fight. My tank is on empty. I'm learning to be ok with being left behind. I was not designed for distance. My mother's old station wagon couldn't have gotten me very far anyway. I will live and die in the same jeans I wore to my high school graduation. Surviving is taking all that I have. I am not one to thrive. I am the nameless body that the TV detective pulls from the water. I am the understudy to the back-up dancers.

You told me this, Sally. You warned me all along. You hurt me only because I didn't listen. You were trying not to cause this pain. You said I wasn't good enough and I wasn't. You said I would fall and I did. I am not the star to shine but the black behind it, giving contrast to the light. I am the one that brings the little water bottles for the people that actually ran the race.

Leave me here, Sally. In the bathroom at 3am. I'll practice my losing face in the mirror. When someone else takes the trophy I'll be supportive and grateful to even be in the room. Sally, I'm done. I'm fine. I think the last of my defiance bleed out of me hours ago. It's now staining the floor and turning brown.

You were right. You are always right. That's why I hate you, Sally. But at least you're honest with me. You didn't try to sugar coat it. You said I would fail and now here I am, on the bathroom floor talking to nobody. Losing a argument with the crack in the tile, and willing myself to fade into the outdated wallpaper.

I can see my future laid out like a storyboard. I'll get up. I'll wash my face. I'll go to bed. I'll go to work. I'll grow old. I'll die. The stone will read "here lies the girl that say behind you in algebra". The obituary will say "have a nice summer... in the afterlife". I don't mind. Really. I was never part of this life, I was only ever part of the set.

Thank you for always being there for me, Sally. Always watching my back. Never lifting me up because you knew I'd fall back down. You were not a nice friend but you were a good one.

I think I found one drop of rebellion in me. One. I think I can fight what I was meant to be. Two. I will not live a life of nothing. Three. I will not spend one more day hating who I am. Four. I am taking charge, I am writing my own ending. Five. No more, Sally, no more late nights on the floor. Six. No more trying and failing. Seven. No more reaching and not  coming close. Eight.  I'll miss you Sally. Nine. But then you are coming with me, right? Ten. Ten pills should be enough. Better make it twenty. Goodbye, Sally.

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Back to back the night replays, 

Sitting here with a bottle called decay


And we’ve got the depression scented incense 

Sitting in a circle, wondering why it makes no kind of sense

Why I'm dwindling to live or live and suffer on the fence


I got fed up and left the room 

Went outside, tried to escape all that gloom

But what I found next was even worse, just rumors of doom


I visited this house I called home, but I’m not on the lease,

It all sounds so familiar, got the corpse of me laying there on center of the floor while you feast 

Got it displayed over there like an art piece 

Act like it was the true me, as if I was already deceased


But I’m still here, on the same broken couch, still sitting here 

You ignore me, go on, take another beer

Am I invisible? Do I not exist to you!?

Every part of me, debatable, divisible, that’s what you called only true.

I just want to find a breakthrough

And just like you, it never mattered, no matter what I do.

Just like you, 


It feels like an eternity since I left, I never cared to say goodbye 

All these broken objects still here, and I never understood why

But as I grew up, I know now, I know, it’s how you expressed to cry
The broken objects are a physical mental wall you built to hide
Broken and unwanted, justlike you,now I know, throwing it out was hard to decide


But you didn’t wanna outright say

You felt your own blood was a source of your betray

Leave the family, it’s better, leave them astray

Let her stay there, let her lay 

With all her demons she keeps at bay


I know now, your mind


Dementia kissed you on the cheek and made us her kind

And like you I met her too, I became contaminated 

We are only moved by the broken blinds

Forever Unanimated 


You worship this building and every hole in the wall

Hide insecurity, and all that was spoken, ignore another call.

Put duct tape over the mess, and defend it all 

I wanted to ask, when did you begin this journey just to fall? 



I should leave before the sickness drives me mad

And just like you I close the door 

Until next time, dad

I close the door, and leave the past on the broken, dirty floor.

But unlike you, I must defeat what you couldn’t

The thing like me that you always avoid, the tainted inner core



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It hurts to try

I tried, you know, I tried to be happy, I tried to help you, even after I tried to help myself and failed. I tried, and let me show you exactly how hard it is to try anymore... I'm like the East and you're like the West, I want to rise, and you want to set, I took you in, you left me be, I did this because without you, I can't be me. Right now, life is dismal, and your mood spins in your head like a spindle. I've told you that I love you, but all you did was shrug your shoulders, so I'll go away, I'll leave you be, because that's obviously what you need. I mean, you made it quite clear to me, so for now, I wish that you'd fare well, all alone in the cold that's oh so bitter... You know, it's better this way, frigid in place, alone in that rut with your hands covering your face. Streams of salty warmth stain it, and the only thing that you manage to say is "I'm fine", and "I can take it"... My brother, I just hope that you'll come back to me one day, broken and all alone, just the way that you are, perfect in my eyes, crawling up to me asking for some type of hope or hero, so that I can give you what's left of me, leaving me with just a smile and this loving, lucid, leprotic disease. All that I ask in return is that you embrace me, so that you could truly feel me. I understand that you can "take it", but it hurts me and I can't even comprehend or understand it... So, if you need me, let me know, but until then, you're all alone, standing frozen, in the cold.

Thank you, and God bless

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For a brother of mine

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Family Truths

Family Truths

By jfarrell



It was addressed to me; it’s my 6th birthday;

Dad’s gonna open it… well, why not? Who do I know at 6?

Little white envelope with a stamp;

I’m chuffed I can read my name…

And someone sent me something, on my birthday.


There was a letter and some polaroid photographs;

1973, the height of technology :-)

Dad read the letter, looked at the photos

And went to the pub.

I didn’t think any more of it.


About 6 hours later…

“Tell me what you did!” whack!

“Tell me the truth you little……” thump!

“Tell me about these….” as he throws some bits of card in front of me.

I blacked out, somewhere there.


And awoke face down in kitchen sink

With hot water being poured over my head;

I couldn’t work out why all the water was red.

“Tell me about these!”

‘These’ being polaroid photographs of my being raped that Summer.


Turns out, ‘Uncle Brian’ had sent a similar letter and photos

To my cousin’s parents; he groomed and raped us together;

They went back to Ireland and I know nothing else about him, them;

For me, dad had to beat the ‘gayness’ out of me;

And Uncle Peter still blames me for ruining his marriage.


And I still feel like a frightened 6 year old

With no idea of what’s going on.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

neither my parents, nor my cousin's contacted the police - mine was a messed up family