445. If I’d Have Had Your Love

teen+silenced

I’d have been a good daughter,

If I’d have had your love.

I’d have done anything for you,

If I’d have had your love.

I could have endured anything,

If I’d have had your love.

It all would have been okay,

If I’d have had your love.

If I’d have had your love…

…It would have been enough.

K. Aldaya, 6/17/18

Picture: Original Source Unknown;  https://www.backbone.org.nz/blog/teenagers-plea-to-stay-with-her-mum-ignored-by-family-court-judge20171217

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441. PTSD

The world is so busying telling me,

How I should feel and who I should be,

That it’s never, even once, stopped to think,

Whether I’m not exactly who I’m meant to be.

Maybe I will never be like you.

Maybe I’m not supposed to.

Maybe asking me to be something else,

Is the reason I can’t get through.

Maybe I would be okay,

If the world accepted what’s different.

Though, no matter how accepting it claims to be,

Some of us leave too much of an imprint.

We make a mess. Stand out too much.

Cops trail us and build up a case.

“It’s odd you were at the crime scene,

Even odder that your prints were all over the place!

Guilty by association, my child.

You’re guilty for showing-up: time and again.

You’re a victim, but perhaps an accomplice as well.

Did you not know it would drive you insane?

Now you are just as responsible.

Only criminals return to the crime!

You could have been normal…like us,

Instead, you’ve wasted this courts precious time.”

Yet, if we may speak to this court, sir.

We feel guilty and shameful each day,…

That we haven’t moved on…couldn’t move on…

And fell down, and apart, and astray.

We didn’t know how. We still don’t know now,

How to escape from that place,

Though if we could one day do so,

As you’ve stated, we’ve already left our trace;

A trace of guilt. A trace of our crimes,…

Of guilt by association.

No matter what we may say to these crimes,

The world will ne’er forgive the implication.

The implication that we are criminals.

That not being like you. Not living like you,

Is a bloody-bed of our own making;

For there’s only acceptance for crimes you live through,

But ones which stay, fester, and remain,

Which turn us wretched, and drive us insane,

Are the ones which society won’t accept.

And refuse to consider,…o’erlooking the brain.

Yes, the world is so busy telling me,

How I should feel and who I should be,

Yet has it ever wondered why we’re not free,

To be who life has made us to be?

No, I am not like you or them,

And no, I will never be in the end;

Though just because I am different,

Must I be rejected ’til the end?

Placed up on trial again, and again to defend…

Why I am the why I am?

I’m a lifetime of sounds and sights you can’t see.

Yet, men like to spurn what they don’t understand,

And charge for the crime of PTSD.

K. Aldaya, 5/23/18

397. Go to the Water

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

Tears flowing forth.

Time runs it’s course,

In the flowing forth of words from mouths.

Nothing but a freak.

A child: lost and meek,

Cursed to bear the cost of others’ sorrows.

Fates can not be changed.

Experiences rearranged.

Once set into motion it continues.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

“Kill yourself today.

You’re in everybody’s way.

Why can’t you see your fate is sealed.

No one wants you here.

Curse’s won’t disappear.

Why must you fight the flowing of the water.”

The window is ajar,

And beyond is just a bar.

One step and then it will all be over.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

Nobody will stop you.

You know what you must do.

Look down into the darkness of the water.

Their eyes are looking up.

Go on, they’ve had enough.

It will only hurt a little longer.

Legs break in the fall.

Nobody cares at all.

They watch you with the coldness of the water.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

Crawl to the boat’s tip.

Take a little slip.

Fall down face first into shivering water.

Can not swim away.

Lungs fill up straight away.

Choke upon the apathy of strangers.

Bodies soon grow cold,

As souls release their hold,

And all that’s left’s another child forgotten.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

No one speaks the name.

Life goes on just the same,

As bodies drift away on the water.

Cruelty is a plague.

Apathy digs a grave,

Which buries all the outcast little children.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water…

…Go. Go. Go to the water…

…….Go. Go. Go to the water.

K. Aldaya, 5/21/17

Picture: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22892496-dust-to-dust

269. You Don’t Want to Be Found

Artist.Request.full.1409528

I tried to find you,

But you don’t want to be found.

I wanted to love you,

But you don’t know what love is.

I want to forgive,

But you will never let me.

I wish you could just give…

A reason for rejection.

I tried to find you,

But you don’t want to be found;

So tonight, I hugged you,

In my dreams, there, you were found,…

And you still hated it.

K. Aldaya, 5/1/14

Picture: Artist Unknown; Added by IChigo Kurosaki on Zero Chan; http://www.zerochan.net/1652887

166. I Guess You Really Don’t Care

man-walking-away

Did I hear you wrong or something?

I thought I heard you say you care?

And I would have given anything,

To hear it said again somewhere.

What has changed from last we talked?

You used to speak and share?

Now all you have done is walk,

Many times past me while I stare.

Why are you so distant now?

You used to touch my hair.

You hardly even touch me now;

Seem to forget I’m there.

You once told me you cared to know…

Everything ’bout me, made aware?

So why did you so quickly sow,

The seed of “I don’t care”?

K. Aldaya, 9/17/05

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; https://lhueagleeye.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/halfwaybetweenthegutter-wordpress-com.jpg

162. Betrayal

ripped-out-heart-image

Your eyes reached deep inside and clasped my heart tightly;

Tinted with crimson blood bore in unparalleled degree.

Igniting: embers set free, in traverse of irksome mud.

Dust and tears combined: Your passion play to win!

Which was drenched upon my soul weighted with unknown sin;

From the sight the eyes begin in search of loves true role.

The torchlight was extinguished by the swampy mayhem,

Of your minds considerations, and the love your eyes condemn.

And my heart-fire in this poem;

Of drowning internalizations,

Is your rejection of my love,

Which left me for dead thereof.

K. Aldaya, 9/9/05

Picture:  “Ripped Out Heart” by Mandy…..?; http://www.layoutsparks.com/1/107179/ripped-out-heart-image.html

149. Unlovable

parental-rejection

I’ve heard of this thing called love.

I like to believe I know how it feels,

Though know of no such love,

Carried deep and pained for me,

Though I’ve been burdened long for thee.

Hast thou seen no thing called love,

Within thy heart for me?

Yes, thou has seen no such love,

Deep in me…just loveless pains,

For without love my heart vast wanes.

What tortured passion is this love,

To show forth what it be,

And then again this thing called love,

Disappears and is not felt,

Abandoning the hopeful heart in which it dwelt.

I’ve heard of this thing called love,

I like to think I know of it well,

Though know of no such love,

Carried for me, ever by thee,

Though I’ve been burdened long in hope’s of some love from thee.

K. Aldaya, 6/28/05

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; Originally from Getty Images; http://www.zawaj.com/askbilqis/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/parental-rejection.jpg

78. Shouldn’t Be Here

alone234

Everything on this Earth tells me I shouldn’t be here.

From the day of my birth, through each and every year.

Wishing I weren’t here.

Nothing I do is right.

I think unlike the masses.

Tossed into the night as time flows and passes.

Rejection here amasses.

K. Aldaya, 9/23/04

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Eq7_IIxCWyM/TlGwfbyY_4I/AAAAAAAABLE/uT5zKHrTix4/s1600/alone.jpg