234. Just Another Broken Soul

broken_soul_by_andygoth666-d4nh06t

I don’t know why I bother.

I write. I weep, in vain.

I’ll never be able to express or convey,

What’s pounding in my brain.

I say a word or maybe two.

You’ll nod your head, “Ah yes!”,

“I understand”.

And I will nod, “Sure…yes”.

But the truth is that it angers me.

How patronizing can you be?

You know nothing of my life,

And I’m glad for it not to be!

You’ll never understand what it’s like to cry….,

Cry away years of your life.

To linger, strive, hurt, and bleed,

The blood from your own knife.

To only know that pain because,

It’s all you’ve ever known;

And never trust joy or happiness,

Forever feeling new and unknown.

But it’s my fault because I was,

Born to take a breath,….to walk.

Born a toy for everyone.

Toys don’t get to fight back or talk.

Toys are made to be used and trashed,

When all the fun is through–a waste–

Of others time and lives…

A regret. A purchase made in haste.

But as I’ve said it’s my fault,

And my place in time and guilt.

If I don’t get over it,

It’s more guilt upon guilt.

Those who damage and destroy,

They get off scott-free –no responsibility;

While I must take responsibility,

For everything which was done to me.

I know what I’m supposed to say.

I know what I should do,

But it would only be because,

I was told it’s what I should do.

I don’t believe that I’m stronger,

Or believe I’m now wiser or better.

Is this Masochism 101?

Must I learn to love pain to be better?

I know it’s not what you want to hear,

And so you may no longer listen;

But yet I still must say it because it’s the truth.

I beg you, listen!

I will never be okay and it is not okay!

I won’t lie and say it’s fine as if it never happened.

Nobody wins and there’s only destruction.

I will hurt until the end.

For a broken soul may never mend.

K. Aldaya, 03/20/13

Picture:  “Broken Soul” by AndyGarcia666 on Deviant Art; http://andygarcia666.deviantart.com/art/Broken-Soul-281289269

225. Doll Face

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Doll face.

Pretty doll.

Cute face.

Crawl….crawl.

Dirty face.

Bawl…and bawl.

Smudged face,

At night’s fall.

Shadow face.

Cringe and bawl.

Wet face,

‘scape the maul!!!

Cracked face.

Lost eyeball.

Doll face.

Broken doll.

Ugly face.

Appall! Appall!

Bloody face.

Masks may wall,

From disgrace.

Clown-face?

Can you recall?

The former beauty of your souls’ broke-face?

K. Aldaya, 12/27/11

Disclaimer: All writings are based on personal experience. Any works used in promotion of abuse of any kind are done without the express permission of the author.

Picture: “Broken Doll” by iKanji on Deviant Art; http://www.deviantart.com/art/Broken-Doll-351889647

221. O’ Pretty Little Thing

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O’ What a pretty little thing.

How do you not, now know?

That you are here to bare your self;

Naked. Soul-aglow.

Porcelain skin and glazed, glassy eyes,

Gaze a world of whips; chains.

Hands are icy-cold, stone’lly things;

This you’ll learn in pains.

O’ What a pretty little thing.

Dance and spin ’round for me.

For I am master. You the slave.

Ah, dream of what will never be!

Only the sweeter to taste….touch….

When lips meet each new crack.

My doll you steadily break way,

To each piercing whack.

O’ What a pretty little thing.

My favorite little toy.

Stop escaping from our play times,

And in pain find joy.

Soon, my dear, you’ll be so ugly,

From all your hopeless dreams,

That I will have to leave you ‘lone,

To drown in your screams.

O’ What a pretty little thing.

My broken little doll.

Savor the torment and the care,

Damaged toy so small,

For that is what you were made for;

To give pleasure to us.

To play and cry blood-tears for us,

And ne’er make a fuss.

O’ What a pretty little thing.

Black-fractured porcelain doll.

Now I must leave you,

(Didn’t listen….so freed you)

To hang by the neck on my wall.

You could have accepted your place,

But you had to dream more.

Now you’ll be broken forever.

Toy doll turned a criminal and whore!

K. Aldaya, 12/15/11

Disclaimer: This is based on personal experience and is not meant to condone or diminish abuse in any shape or form, rather it was written to bring light to the victims of abuse and how they are treated, not only by their abusers, but by society at large when they step out against the abuses done to them.

Picture: Artist Unknown; (Some writing in corner but can’t make it out?) http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4029/4655914640_888667c445_o.jpg

142. Broken Toy

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Why is it when you’re near my heart becomes rigid with fear?

Your presence makes me fall back into myself with tear;

Screams descend with minds’-call.

Why is it when you’re here my life progresses disappear,

Into resonant past?

And yet I try to persevere by destroying the cast.

Why is it you appear to chaos my soul with endear?

What did you do to place the horrors of each life-year onto your aging face?

Why is it when you’re near my solitude is made severe?

–Lose everything again–

On my eyes a bloody-smear becomes a perm’nent stain.

Why is it when you’re here distant pain-memories appear?

Cannot escape them now,

Not now, or ever my dear,

For that you won’t allow!

Why is it you appear to float within the hostage-drear,

And love what you destroy?

For with murderous domineer you break your favorite toy.

K. Aldaya, 5/26/05

Picture: American McGee’s Alice 2: Madness Returns; http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m160r1FDr61qcr9a8o1_500.png