I just want to be

Sinner with the broken wings

How is it that you still sing?

I sing for glory and holy light

I sing with passion to set all right

But when the devil comes to play

I sing with broken wings on display

For I am a sinner through and through

And it is through him that I get to you

Hi! I am queer. I have no safe space. There is no place that welcomes me. Yet, I am supposed to delude myself into thinking that there is. I know that I am not wanted but I have been told that it is better to think that there is.

I used to have someone I could talk to. A person who I felt like would always be there for me. Sure we would fight every once in awhile. I can not tell you the amount of times I told them I hated them. But I was raised in a home where family was supposed to mean everything. When your parents are gone you only have your cousins, your siblings, your aunts and uncle, to stand by your said. So for this person to betray me as they did hurts. It hurts so fucking bad because at one point there were my best friend.

See my coming out story was pretty bland. Which, I should be grateful that it ended up being that way seeing as others can not say the same. My mother was one of the first I told and she was super cool about it. Way to cool if we are being honest because she soon told me about all the girls friends she had while I was younger and would often ask for peoples numbers while we were out and about. Really, nothing screams “please kill me” moments like watching as your mother flirts with people of all genders anytime she walked out the house. So yes, my coming out was pretty bland.

I had some people who made my life hell but they really didn’t matter. My mother was ok with it. As was my siblings. But that soon changed. A few years back my sister discovered christ and what used to be ok was now one of the things that tore us apart. Now, she spends every moment she can sprouting bible verses and telling me I will go to hell. That I am an abusive mother because I surround my kid in such sinful teachings. She talks about race a lot as well. Blaming white people for all of our problems and how they need to eradicated. But I am the monster.

No one seems to care though. My mother, the women who made my coming out story so boring and uneventful is now constantly telling me that I need to forgive her. Because when she is gone my sister is all I will have left. But what my mother doesn’t understand is that I am used to being alone. I don’t need such toxic people in my life to make myself feel something anymore. So why should I forgive her?

If I am going to hell I rather it be because the love I chose to live with over the hate I would have should I hide.

Sheperd clothed the sheep

There, a glimpse through lenses

Tinted rose, with lilacs surrounding

The edges with gold

Behold, a wonder disguised

As a disgusted smirk with fire eyes

There, a glimpse through lenses

Tinted rose with surprised beginnings

Edged in golden decisions

Behold, a tainted lust

Disguised as fools who trust

I was told not to share my problems

I complain to much

Because what I have inside of me

Is enough to garner me empathy

But only for a time or two

I need to stay silent

And far away

Because up close and personal

It isn’t enough

To keep contempt and revenge

From sneaking in

I was told to keep my mouth shut

By a friend of a friend of a friend

If only to remain unseen

So they can be seen as clean

I called myself an assassin

I wanted you to fight for me…but I can see that I will never be enough. Between the blood and the lust there is a gun just out of reach. I thought that you would need me yet here you are. Lying at my feet with wounds I don’t think will ever heal. I am almost certain that this isn’t even real but I see it. I feel and still breath and can smell the fact that I am not…I am not enough. I was never meant to be. I figured you would fight for me. Figured you would try just a little more. But between the blood and the lust I think I can see. I think I can truly see just how much of it wasn’t meant to be.

A/N a little dirty ditty for the ladies. Honestly this makes no sense. I may edit it soon.

Another Update cause I can

Welcome to the musing of an extremely petty poet.

I have had a lot of new followers and am actually starting to get a lot of repeats as well. Still not a lot of comments but I am ok with that. Just wanted to let everyone know, if you all haven’t noticed already, I am a terrible speller. And *spoiler alert* my grammar is even worse. So feel free to judge to your hearts content lol. I have had some people tell me that it is ok but it is something I struggle with and want to work on. I do not do it before I post my work but when I go back I like to edit a few things here and there. Change up a line or two to help it flow better. But if you see some mistake that doesn’t look intentional just comment and let me know. I will not get upset…ok I will get upset if said person only commenter just to tell me what I am doing wrong.

I am a single mom who struggles with BPD. I made this blog first to hone my writing skills but later on I wanted to show what it was like to live with a mental disorder. My poems and little story tell about my life and that of my daughter. Sometimes I can be angry, happy, sad, depression, excited and even, you guessed it, petty. I enjoy each and every person who takes the time to like and read my work. There is not a lot of information out there that paints people with BPD in a neutral light. Most information seeks to vilify us. Well I am here to tell ya that we are just as human as you are. We make mistakes and successes. My poems go a long way into proving that. Because some of my pieces are downright holy while others sound like the musing of a very edgy teen going through puberty. You get no in between with me really 🤣.

So I thank you and say welcome to all the new faces. I am sorry for the mess and look forward to learning from you all.

Believing in me

I think I am done, but I am not sure how to be. I wasted so much time trying that giving up almost seems like a relief. Still, something is holding me back. I think it has something to do with my memories. Nothing in my past, but current events that haunt me. Preventing me from taking that final step.

I think I am done, but I am not sure how to believe. There is a small part of me that feels something close to relief. As though a big weight has been removed from my shoulders. I can breathe so easily and yet…those final steps are still out of reach.

Untitled

I am a huge hypocrite.

Daily a friend or loved one will message me about the problems going on in their life. I always sit and listen and give advice when needed. Sometimes they just need me to be silent and others they need my anger. Sometimes my tears or enough and others they just need my love. I hear all these stories and yet I am afraid to tell my own.

I am not a liar in a way people would think it. I do not really know I am lying till I am doing it. It isn’t big lies really but small ones. I can never give a straight answer to basic questions.

If asked how I am, I will always say “I’m ok”

If asked how my day was, I will always say

“It was fine, could have been better, but still fine”

I am afraid to show my true self.

I guess cause I don’t want to burden them with my problems. Or maybe it is cause in the past I was always ignored in favor of their problems. I am not sure.

What makes me a hypocrite though is the fact that I can not take my own advice. I ask them to come to me with anything but do not do the same to them. I give them all my emotion but refuse to express it till it is to late. I hurt and hide but get mad when they do the same. I am the biggest hypocrite yet I do not see myself changing any time soon.

I can see her

I can see her body floating as I close my eyes. I can see her hurting in every way imaginable as I stand by unable to do a thing. Sometimes I am dying and sometimes I am not. Either way I am always out of reach. I put my hand towards her, grasping, for just a touch. But I never make it, not in time anyways. I watch the light fade from her eyes. I watch as her beautiful smile twist into a look of pain.

This is my everyday nightmare.

As I close my eyes I see her dying. I see her suffering in unimaginable ways. I can’t do anything but watch. Either dead or alive I am always reaching for her.

This is my everyday. When I try to talk to people about it they just call me paranoid or don’t understand.

I can’t sleep unless she is beside me but there are days when that makes it worse. I take every pill the doctor gives me. Say my prayers before bed. Yet nothing is working.

I can see her hurting and I can’t make it stop.

Every day my daughter dies and I know it is all my fault.

D is for Destined

I am having a bad time keeping up with this this year. Maybe I am destined to fail. I have to try my best but I feel as though it isn’t good enough. Maybe it is because I am trying to write about something that is still so fresh in my heart. I have lost so much these past few years. I want go say goodbye but I don’t feel as though I am strong enough.

C is for Cure

Decribe what makes you whole and I will do my best to destroy it.

-Words Said to a Lovers Captive.

I know what it is like to bleed. I know what it is like to crave the pain. I don’t know what it is like when it is the only thing keeping you sane.

My head hurt so bad right now. It feels as though something is crawling in my skull. Ripping me apart from the insides and pushing itself behind my eye balls. I can feel it’s slow decent into my organs. Slowly devouring me and yet I still breathe. It is so very painful and seems never ending. I am not really sure when this feeling started. I don’t remember a time when it wasn’t there.

I want it to stop but…I am not even sure if I will know how to love without it.