Free use image by Sammy Williams on Pixabay
you try to get in my jeans
although you say you don't like what's in my genes
although I have learned how to flex
the tears shed have left behind flecks
they say you should thank your enemies
for the lessons they taught you--bitch, please
guys like these taught me to see
only the ugly in and outside of me
I'd sooner thank my cat
for the hairball left on the mat
I'm no longer in the game
thanks but no thanks all the same
~cie~
Write a thankful poem.
notes
I just finished writing a new chapter for my current WIP, The Key of Eidolon, in which I tell a story that, while fictional, is based on real events in my own life. You can read the chapter on LBRY for 15 LBC (approximately $0.45) from this link:
Or you can wait and see if Reedsy approves the chapter, which I just uploaded yesterday. They usually do approve my work, but sometimes it can take a few days to appear.
Either way, if you read it and you like it, maybe share it around. I'm trying to build an audience sometime in this lifetime.
The story features a young woman named Claire who is based on the person I was in my teens. Claire is hung up on a jerk named Valentino, who eventually takes advantage of her. Claire attempts suicide and may never regain consciousness.
I could easily have ended up like Claire. I did attempt suicide and for my efforts was exposed to the tender mercies of the mental health system back in 1980 when I was 16 years old. I was treated like a pile of garbage--strike that, I think they treated their garbage better. There were a couple of compassionate people, but they were the exception rather than the rule. I resolved that I would make damn sure I died before I ever went back into that fucked system, and I have kept my promise.
I no longer let guys like Valentino--or any other guys with non-platonic goals--anywhere near me. I want nothing to do with that whole game. I am not as vulnerable as Claire or my former self anymore because I have enough respect for myself that I will not be fucked with, fucked over, or fucked under. However, the scars remain, and they will always be there.
This truth-based rhyme was posted to these places:
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
Creative Commons License
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