Thursday, March 5, 2015

The Mother and the Mental Patient

Once upon a time,
I knew two women.
One's heart was closed,
the other's open.

Outside they were similar.
Sharing dark hair and eyes.
But while one had hope
the other only had lies.

One felt the deepest love
and gave such love in return.
The other felt only pain
and though not hateful, she was stern.

One had dreams and plans
of the future and of family.
While the other had nightmares of the past
from which she could not be free.

While one's joy was new
and it made her bold,
the other was weakened
by a pain strong but old.

They shared the same scars
but told different tales.
Both faced the darkness
of invisible ails.

The Mother and the Mental Patient.
Merely masks people see.
They are one broken soul,
both pieces of me.

I tried to separate
the different parts of me
but I found accepting me as a whole
was the only way to liberty.

Now everyone may know the real me,
the battles I have fought,
the ones I am fighting,
and what each victory and loss has taught.

Speak with one voice.
Happiness is not easily won
but taking each day at a time,
someday will find the divide gone.

7 comments:

  1. Powerful and touching

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  2. It's good to see you writing again. I'm sorry for all the pain you have been through. I only want you to be happy. Keep letting those feelings out. I love you.

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  3. It's because of both masks that you can speak to the pain. Thank you.

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  4. Sounds like you've found a clear path, and I'm happy for you. It may not be an easy path, but there is nothing like clarity and purpose to put demons to rest. Stay on that path.

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