Can't Let Go

I have this poem dated from June/July 2010. Went through a pretty dark period there and I still haven't really found my way out. A lot of my writing from this time is pretty depressing. I wouldn't say writing poetry is my best talent but it's a way of coping with stuff and a way to figure out how I'm feeling.

Can't Let Go

I'm out of control and insecure

I hate this constant fear

I want to draw near

But I am too afraid to let go

I'm afraid to let go 

Let go of all that I know

And embrace something new

To follow instead of to lead

To know that I need 

Someone in my life

I'm so afraid to be all alone 

Afraid to be on my own

And to be open and known

Afraid to let go of my insecurity

Afraid of people afraid of life

Afraid of peace afraid of strife

Scared to death of my own self

Afraid to let go of the pain

Afraid to be whole again

To let go of insecurity and pride

My aching heart and shattered dreams

I'm afraid to let go

Let go of all that I know 

And embrace something new

To follow instead of to lead 

To know that I need 

Someone in my life

I'm afraid to let go

So afraid to let go!

---A.M.L.

ACTING - poem

     I wrote this a couple years ago when I was really struggling with body image and fitting in and being perfect. I was trying to figure out what life really was about and it had to be more than just how I looked! 

Acting

I woke up this morning 

Wondering what life was all about

Went to bed tonight

Wishing someone could help me out

Who's got the key 

Who's got the plot

This isn't a movie

I know that it's not

First thing when you wake up

You put on your make up

Put on a smile

Put on your costume

Go jog a mile

You gotta lose some wight

To look like a celebrity

Who's got the key?

Who's got the plot?

This isn't a movie

I know that it's not!

I'm sick of faking 

Who I really am

I'm afraid and aching

To be real!

And I need help out of the dungeon of lies 

I'm going a different way

Hoping to someday

Find what I'm looking for!

--A.M.L

Grey Skies

     The first part of this short piece, I wrote a couple years ago, not sure what I was doing exactly or why I wrote it, but the other day I was going through old writing and I kinda liked this one, and so I edited it just a tad and added the second part. 

                                                                     --------------------------

     The rain poured from the miserably grey sky. My sweat jacket and denim skirt were soaked and slapping against my legs at every step. I picked up another metal post from the pile and slowly sloshed to the barn, the mud sucking my loosely tied muddy tennis shoes down with every step and I thought I'[d loose them. Pushing the post through the barn window into the darkness, I watched it slide down and heard its end clang on the cement floor, my eyes followed the brown trickle of water run down the wall below the window I had just put the post through. Then turning I made my way back to the pile to get another post and start the short miserable walk over again.

     Life's sky is grey, the atmosphere heavy, cheerless, the rain is drizzling miserably turning everything into thick, sticky muck, sucking at my heart and soul, sucking me down into it's dark depths, I'm carrying these heavy, rusty, problems back and forth between the pile and the barn, what's the point? It seems like endless drudgery. What's the point? At any moment I could just give up, stop moving back and forth between the rusty pile and that old battered barn window, why don't I? Just stop and let myself sink down, get swallowed up in the depths of that pitiful black mud screaming for me, the depression. Why do I keep moving?

Cry of the Lost

     A sea of faces haunting me, like pages in a book, all hiding the darkness inside of them, some with plastic smiles, some with blank looks, some don't hide at all. Souls crying out for freedom from the dungeons they are trapped in, begging for peace, someone to numb the aching torture of loss inside of them. The dull throb of hearts giving up, losing their fight against the pain and emptiness.

     I call out for help in my own blackness and I hear the resounding echo, reverberating back to me as others offer the same plea for help out of the terrible, miserable, aching, empty blackness, that I'm lost in. The cries are fearful and haunting, agonizing to hear, renting my heart and piercing through my soul. Others feeling the pain of life like me, others who have lost all hope, who are trapped in terrifying pain and darkness with no seeming escape.
   
     "Is there hope for me? Is there a cure for this pain? Will the wounds ever heal? Where is the light? I feel lost. I just want it to be over."

     Lonely. Fearful. Aching. Lost. Angry and alone.

     Where is the hope for them? Where is the healing for their pain and loss?
 
     And even if they wounds could heal...They can never be the same.