Strangled

Strangled by the threads of expectation

pushed on one’s self 

until they are choking

unable to articulate their screams,

because today nobody cares.

Pushed into the rubber room,

walls plush with velvet padding

tormented screams rent the air

as demons play games.

Games of love, 

only to be shown that love is not for them.

Games of torture,

voices grinding in their ears

until they can take it no more.

Strangled by the threads of expectation

unable to bear 

this less than perfect image.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

December 31/17

Where goes that child?

Where goes that child?

That golden haired dream,

with silver laughter

and dreams so big.

What tarnished her light,

what blew it out?

Where goes that girl?

That raw bundle of nerves

with words twisting on her tongue

and she knew

that writing was all she would do.

Where goes the dreams of this woman

who lays broken and bleeding

her words restored but her spirit

so long supressed

fights to return,

to merge;

that child,

that girl

with this woman.

Her past fogiven,

her present believed in

and dreams of the future

will heal her heart.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

December 30/17