"Echoes of Teenage Torment: Reclaiming My Voice"
"In this poem, I delve into the depths of my past, where neglect and trauma shaped my turbulent journey, yet through the flames of anger, I discover the strength to rewrite my story and find healing, reclaiming the voice silenced by pain."
In the mirror's gaze, I see her reflection clearly,
That inner teenage girl, consumed by fear.
Anger boils within, a tempest of the past,
Forgotten wounds and memories amassed.
Each scar is a story, etched upon my soul,
The pain of neglect, taking its toll.
In childhood's grip, I was left to roam,
A turbulent sea, without a guiding home.
Thrown to the winds, abandoned in the storm,
My innocence shattered, emotions forlorn.
Betrayed by trust, in a world so cold,
Left to navigate, a path I couldn't hold.
My heart, a battleground, torn apart by strife,
In the chaos of my mind, I fight for life.
The shadows of trauma, haunt my days,
Fueling the fire of my turbulent ways.
Raised on neglect, a hunger for love,
But every embrace felt like a push and a shove.
In the labyrinth of emotions, I lost my way,
Trapped in the darkness, night turned to day.
The pain of abandonment, a relentless ache,
In the depths of despair, my heart did break.
BPD, they label me, a disorder they claim,
But it's the scars of my past that fuel this flame.
So let me rage, let me scream and cry,
For the girl inside who was left to die.
I'll reclaim my power, rise from the dust,
For beneath the pain, lies strength and trust.
Though the wounds may linger, deep and sore,
I'll heal with each step, I'll rise once more.
For in my anger, I find my voice,
And in reclaiming my past, I make my choice.
No longer defined by the scars I bear,
I'll rewrite my story, with love and care.
For the teenage girl within, she'll find her way,
Through the darkness of night, to the light of day.
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Wasteful to even wish, but I do wish my family would stop framing it as “you never come around because you’re holding grudges instead of forgiving*” and see it for what it actually is: being protective of my nervous system and health for once because no one ever protected me when I needed it. It’s about not forcing myself to endure major triggers and constant boundary violations just to “make an appearance” and people-please.
*Accountability amnesia: they’ve been forgiven over and over nearly 30 years and there hasn’t been change to their harmful behavior. This is them still wanting you to do the work for them. Don’t fall for it.
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Grief is the Most Potent Teacher
"Time heals all wounds." Is wrong. Grief doesn't care. Time has made the loss bearable, but the wound did not close over and leave a tidy scar that I can tell a story about as something in my past. The loss of my mother redirected my entire trajectory.
Daily writing promptWho was your most influential teacher? Why?View all responses
“Time heals all wounds,” The old adage insists. “One day, being without them will not seem so glaringly noticeable.” Well on this, the eighth year to follow the loss of my mother, I can assure you that this is simultaneously true and false.
Time has made the loss bearable, but the wound did not close over and…
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