Nocha

I am not an incubator for your pleasure

and yet you deem me worthy of your favor

as if I should drop everything and run

because you have so much in common with the sun

“He didn’t mean it” and yet it was said

how my morning star was better off dead

because if I loved him, if I cared

I would have buried when she barely appeared

but I am the monster because I choose not to forgive

go head and sanctify me

shower me with despair

because it is how you show you care

You see me as corrupted with power because I will not give in

you count my blessing as your own win

hold it over me as though I seek your saving grace

Well Fuck you, you can’t even look her in the face

Tell her you begged me to do the deed

Tell her how you threaten that you will leave

Let her known about your fire

Let her know that you wish to wield all the power

and when she waters heavens with her tears

and causally throws down her spear

When she shows your the lamb and tiger are one

I want you to know who has truly won

I will not be your incubator

and you are far from being my savior

my saving grace, my morning star

she is all I need thus far

and when the heavens soon turn bright

we will both hear her battle cry in the night

A/N Poem dedicated to a beautiful little girl. Mommy loves you.

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.

Ask and answer

I often ask myself silly questions I would not dare bring up to anyone else.

Thing that make me blush or smile. Things that make me cry awhile.

I ask myself these things because they help me feel alive.

For awhile I have the will to survive.

What kind of future will she have?

Will I be there or will I be dead?

How can I make her happy?

How will she feel if I hold her on my lap, even when she is 20?

I ask myself because I can.

I ask myself so that I may continue till the end.

Letters to a Father

I can no longer remember your face.

When I was younger you where there. Not always there┬ábut a little thought in the back of my mind. I HATED how you came around when you felt like it. I know you told me it was my moms fault you weren’t constant, but till this day I do not believe that to be fact.

Just like you said how you number never changed, nor did my grandmothers, you could have called her any day. Found out where we where and took us away. Do you know how much pain we went through?

No, I guess not since you never bothered with us. Just made excuse after excuse.

Dear Dad , I do not remember you. I do bot remember your voice, your smile, your eyes. I Do remember your anger and your lies.

I guess it is my fault I hold on to such a grudge but I made the mistakes of my mother and laid with someone I didn’t love.

Now I have a daughters whose father she don’t know. She don’t know his face, his eyes, the way he smiles over silly things. No all she remembers is the pain of him never being around.

Broken promise after promise.

Sounds familiar to me now.

Dear Dad, I hate you.

But I guess you knew that.

Or maybe you didn’t because you delude yourself into thinking I was never created. I am just a figment of your demented imagination.

Do you know my favorite color or my favorite song? Do you remember my best friends name or what first made us get along? I told you all this a million times but did you listen?

I wish you had left me spattered on the bed sheets but then I wouldn’t have my baby girl.

Dear Fuckbutt, I despise you.

How dare you do her like he do. She deserves so much better than some well wishes. She fucking deserves her fathers kisses. I do not need no imagined truths. Tell her what you post online, don’t you know she needs you???

Wrote a letter to my father but inside I meant you.

Heaven on earth

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I am not someone who gives in easily.
I think to much so it takes awhile for me to decide the correct path. I have to reaserch. Find out what option is best for me and only then can I make a move.
Yet when it comes to dying I never really put too much effort into staying alive. I had always felt like dying was the best option. Was the only path I could take that would bring me closer to peace.
It wasn’t till recently that it all changed. That I realized that although my life can be utter shit that I had a purpose. That I was meant to be here even if I was to blind to see that reason.

I am a mom of a beautiful little girl. She wouldn’t be here if I died. I work with animals and while someone else could do this job I know that they love me. That these animals are happy being around me just as much as my baby girl is.
I still want to die sometimes. I still look forward to that eternal sleep but I have a reason to go on now.
I have someone watching me. I have someone who hold me in their arms and tells me they love me every chance they get. Who ask for hugs and kisses. Who makes up excuses to sit in my lap. I have a daughter. I have a job..I have a purpose.
I may not fully understand the meaning of heaven..but right now..I see heaven in her eyes.
My sunshine who makes even the darkest tameable.

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Nocha Daisey age 5 months