Escape to Slumber

Woman sleeping in bed


Escape to slumber in the darkest night.
Heavy blankets help hide the fear inside.
Moonlight hidden behind thick clouds, contrite.
Their eyes weighed heavy, blurry with bromide.
 
Racing in circles, their thoughts fight and flight.
Replaying the past, like a movie slide.
Still frames, close-ups, emotions amplified.
Escape to slumber in the darkest night.
 
The movie plays on all covered in blight.
Each character struggling to face what died.
She covered them up and tucked them in tight.
Heavy blankets help hide the fear inside.
 
They woke in the morning and grinned, bright-eyed.
But then he broke in and unleashed his might.
She fought to save them and keep them bright-eyed.
Moonlight hidden behind thick clouds, contrite.
 
She schemed and planned and plotted for their flight.
He screamed and yelled and cursed them.  Amplified
by triggers and flashbacks that play despite
their eyes weighed heavy, blurry with bromide.
 
Safe now from him the future should be bright,
but his ghost invades. A demon bestride.
We carry him with us into twilight.
Never without the dead feeling inside.
                     
Escape to slumber.

Break in the Fog

When the brume clears, no matter how brief the reprieve, capture the moment.  Hold it dear and remember there will always be another break in the fog. ~Undeniably Sara

When the brume clears, no matter how brief the reprieve, capture the moment. Hold it dear and remember there will always be another break in the fog. ~Undeniably Sara

Today, Yesterday, Last Week…

Its been going on for weeks now. Every day feels like an attack from one side or the other. Just when I think there will be one calm day with somewhat reasonable expectations of me, then I get hit again.

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The Tangled Mind

The tangled mass of vibrant colors shooting out of the head makes visual the struggle to explain the traumatized mind.  Surviving each day is challenging enough, but then we face trying to describe the sensation to others.

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Breaking Point

Burning stress, piercing hurt, and crushing fear
Pile on, forming a jagged mountain of pain. 
Then, a feather lands atop with a whisper of breath.
Giant boulders crash down, roaring like a freight train.
The taste of blood in my throat, a migraine of molten lava,
And my heart, pounding out of my chest, beating in my ears.
The breaking point smoulders from holding it in too long.

Good Question

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He Sleeps Soundly

How can you sleep at night, Mr. Narcissist? We hardly sleep at all, yet I suspect you sleep just fine. After all, you never did anything wrong, and these memories we all fight so hard to resolve are an elaborate fabrication.

What a beautiful, fantasy world you in which you dwell. Beware, for it will all crumble down eventually, and when it does, we will be stronger than ever. Relish your memories of when you had full power and control over us because those times are extinct!

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Black Days

One “black day” is manageable, most of the time.  Many of them crammed on top of each other can feel insurmountable.  These “black days” have been plentiful recently, and respite is nowhere in sight.  Instead of feeling desperation and defeat there is numbness.  Even anger is unable to be roused leaving a sense of complacency and acceptance.

There is still hope for the seed of happiness to sprout and grow, but for now, it is firmly buried under the weight of too many “black days.”

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Longing for Restful Sleep

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Showing the Scars

Imagine if we could see the emotional pain and scars represented on the skin of those around us. Festering, oozing, open sores on the skin of souls still trapped in their pain and black and blue bruises covering the bodies of those beginning to heal.

What about those with scars? Some may hide scars, embarrassed by their pain and past struggle, even though they had to be so very strong to survive. Those with scars that show, uncovered in the sun, for all to see might be the strongest of all. These are the scars of people who were strong enough to survive, heal, and continue living despite their past.

How different would we relate to people if we could see their internal pain? How different would we present ourselves if our past was visible on our skin?

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