The Dream
I feel anguish for believing so deeply in the words that were so fluently written on trees, crushed to a pulp by a person that has convinced themselves that the contorted image of poisoned love that spewed from the ink well of her pen, was true. Myself, having fallen senseless to the poisoned ink of her pen, read the spell that cast me into this careless wonderland where I found a love that made me choose between my birthed angel or a haunting simplicity of a non existent fairytale love... Shrinking myself to fit through the keyhole of a door because it was locked... Going where my baby angel could not follow...to learn to fly on his own... Wings folded patiently for his shrunken mother to find her way through the wonderland that led to self destruction… Believing that her love for him was strong enough to find her way back... Flipping through the pages and pages, the pen holder glided her poison pen deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole, leading wayward to the tea party where she resided to wish me a very happy un-birthday... For the tether would be complete and the spell would be finished, with a final stroke... Eyes glimmering... The pen fell to make the last mark on my ink smeared heart... Like a strike of lightning there was a blade to meet her venom dripping pen, the two weapons collided shattering the wicked pen. An eerie shriek rang coated with bitterness, the poison ink was gone, just like the hope the bearer of the poison pen had for the twisted love to take root in my vulnerable/weakened heart... suddenly through foggy eyes I am awakened by a sharp pull, free fall, and a hard thump, I was pulled roughly from the spell back to where I belong... Through the haze I see my seven angels looking at me through loving eyes... My mother splattered with the poison ink, bearing the sword in which cut the ties breaking the spell binding poison that I once called love... Waking me from my vivid nightmarish reality to join them, showing me that I am worth the fight, I have the fight within me... And deserving to the purest love <3
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Hickey-flower
Hey there, I'm Heather. I am, by no means a "born writer", I have tried for many years off and on to do writings but I always seemed to be around people that tore me down or made me feel like a crappy writer. My confidence has always been extremely low about my writing. Recently, I've been feeling a rumbling in my heart to express myself more through writing, throw caution to the wind and let my heart dance across the page... I was diagnosed with quite a few different conditions, to name a few, my good friend Anxiety, Anxiety decided to bring along her friend Panic Attacks (wasn't to happy about that), I also have a stalker that's been following me around my whole life, his name is PTSD, I also have a friend that sits just out of view but I know she's always there, her name is Dysthymia. My last friend I call Hashi's, thats short for Hashimoto's Thyroiditis, that's where my own body thinks that my Thyroid is an intruder and it does everything in its power to kill my thyroid (talk about an inner conflict). My life is worth living because I am a mom, I fight hard against the things that try to bring me down for him, I write because I know it helps me reduce the anxiety and depression that I struggle with so I can be more present for him, I also write because I know narrative therapy is proven to work and help heal traumas in a non-invasive way. Removing myself from my trauma and putting it into story form helps me process things I've been through, helps me feel compassion and empathy for myself (when usually I am my own worst critic, and extremely negative towards myself). It is a constant battle to try and tune out the negative self talk, and I know many people struggle with this, so I hope whoever reads this will feel a bit more love, kindness, and empathy for themselves. -With outstretched wings, use watchful eyes, Protect the unprotected, love the unloved, and breathe life into the lifeless- Love, Heather
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