warning: some mild triggers possible
Trudging legs through mud like lead
Wading through old bones of the dead
Bleeding, cut, scratched, battered hard
Countless battles and journeys left her scarred
Traces of tears engrained on her bloody face
from abuse, treachery, lies , she picks up pace
She has fought fights seen doom
seen blackness, evil, and other gloom
On the surface , like the iceberg tips
Ripples of water, underneath seductive lips
Hidden Behind the mask of glitz and glamour
Behind the passionate and stein amour
The solitary warrior stumbles across on stony ground
Cut and bleeding, no one else around
Her blonde hair is tangled, her make up smudged
Scarred and wounded onward she trudged.
Limping and in pain, heart ripped to shreds
Her heart wanted no more than to be dead
To give up, to die
Let the pain end,
The constant suffering to lift and ascend
But on she tramps, eyes filled with steel
Used, abused, searching for an emotional meal.
And the scars are deep
She cannot sleep
Nor feel content
Or at ease
She cannot trust, love or believe.
These things have been stolen from her, like the love of life
Her past has had a very high price.
Succubus to men she seduces to gain affection
Fill up the black hole in her empty pit of emotions
Mother, daughter, lover she is all three
But one things she wants she has to fight hard to see
Pure love back, despite all her scars, despite her wrong doings, a love to the stars
From total apathy to emotional tornado
Crushed and crumpled, used, chucked and tramplelled
She trusts no one. Especially not her own head
Reality, paranoia, hallucinations which is which??
The rescuer, the supporter the one that knows what to do.
The one that workmates, friends and family turn to
Lost little girl
Emotional turmoil hits like pure grief in sobs
Peace, anxiety is what BPD robs
Panic, depression, lonely, anxiety, mood swings, hallucinations, delusions, addictions,
Appetite gone, sick and ache, wanting to self harm.
No sleep, too much sleep, mania and shame.
Wanting to die. Wanting to create a way to look like accidental suicide
Worry, guilt, self hate
Whore whore whore slut
Shit mum, waste of space, idiot, lazy
bitch and bad to the core
And definatly a fucking whore.
Over 25 years I have been that battle scarred warrior.
Hardened from naive little girl looking for her prince to a fighter
It’s overwhelming to keep trudging on.
Would love to lie down and let life be gone
But I persevere a slither of hope is my light.
Eternal optimist, I continue my fight
Inside I am scared, too much emotions I feel
In reality I am strong built from steel
But never underestimate the injured warrior as weak.
Or silly, or blonde or meek.
Im forged with fire and metal made in hell
My spirit is scarred but cannot be quelled
My inner torment u will never see,
the ones I battle in my head every second,
I want to be free.