I got myself in a bit of $$ trouble - my mum has MY trust fund money in an account in HER name -
and she won't help me to helpmyself get out of trouble by giving me MY
damn money.
when YOU turn and ask ME for help,
because in your face I will laugh,
and repeat what you said to me -
when I asked for YOUR help,
"No - You made your bed you have to lie in it"
Oh how I hurt inside when you said those words,
but now you can't hurt me,
as all there is inside
is a black cloud of anger, burning and building,
it's the shape of a large black dog -
and it can't wait to destroy everything we built.
Suicide -
I would - just to rip your soul apart,
like white pointer sharks.
BUT -
I trust noone else to look after and spoil my cats.
So for my cats I don't.
[plus the fact i'm yellower then a chicken's egg yolk].
I'ld cut myself -
but my knives are blunter then a broken woodsman's axe -
So cutting's out.
I'm off the rails -
partly because of my stupity -
but also because of your refusal to help me.
But I am not depressed for
[like YOU said]
'I'm only an attention seeker feeling sorry for myself',
at lest, that is what your voice said in my head.
So I am waiting for THAT day, MOTHER,
when you come and ask me for help,
for I will only say -
'No, sorry I can't -
where was YOUR help when I asked for it?'
It was not there.
20/01/06
Poetry by liz munro
Read 668 times
Written on 2006-01-20 at 08:10
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and she won't help me to helpmyself get out of trouble by giving me MY
damn money.
Waiting for THE day (black anger rising)
I can NOT wait for the day,when YOU turn and ask ME for help,
because in your face I will laugh,
and repeat what you said to me -
when I asked for YOUR help,
"No - You made your bed you have to lie in it"
Oh how I hurt inside when you said those words,
but now you can't hurt me,
as all there is inside
is a black cloud of anger, burning and building,
it's the shape of a large black dog -
and it can't wait to destroy everything we built.
Suicide -
I would - just to rip your soul apart,
like white pointer sharks.
BUT -
I trust noone else to look after and spoil my cats.
So for my cats I don't.
[plus the fact i'm yellower then a chicken's egg yolk].
I'ld cut myself -
but my knives are blunter then a broken woodsman's axe -
So cutting's out.
I'm off the rails -
partly because of my stupity -
but also because of your refusal to help me.
But I am not depressed for
[like YOU said]
'I'm only an attention seeker feeling sorry for myself',
at lest, that is what your voice said in my head.
So I am waiting for THAT day, MOTHER,
when you come and ask me for help,
for I will only say -
'No, sorry I can't -
where was YOUR help when I asked for it?'
It was not there.
20/01/06
Poetry by liz munro
Read 668 times
Written on 2006-01-20 at 08:10
Tags Anger 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
liz munro |
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by liz munro Latest textsBlind, DeafLove stormy heart Soul Earthquake(pan tou m) Fate. My favoritesHurtingJourney man Rainy day thoughts Birds song The Sorry Poem |
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