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