Clareprunellpoetry

They teach you at school to just utter no, When the world is too heavy and you want to let go. At twelve years of age, when the alcohol flows, It numbs out the horror and softens the blows. The loveless old home and the violence and fear, The abuse of the minder when nobody's near. They sit in the shadows and refuse to depart, So you reach for the shelter that numbs out the heart. You don't say the no that they teach in the hall, You say yes to the haze as you start down the fall. The cannabis turns into acid and speed, As you search for a cure for the desperate need. At fifteen the borders are fractured and wild, A furious, raging, and desperate child. They call them mere moods, but you’re drowning inside, In a world full of pain with nowhere to hide. When they tell you you’re fun with a glass in your hand, You give them whatever they want and demand. The step to the heroin shadows the light, And crack takes the rest of the day and the night. It’s a brutal existence, a scramble for cash, Chasing the fix to stave off the crash. The memories faded, the noise finally quiet, A mind full of peace, let go of the riot. Then you hit the hard bottom, a skeleton frame, With scarred over veins and a body in shame. Seven days in the clinic, so ill and so weak, To find a new life and the future you seek. You built yourself healthy, you worked and you played, You poured all your love where your new family stayed, Until depression broke open the walls in your head, And shattered the fictions of safety instead. The box that was locked for a lifetime gives way, And the memories buried and beaten come back into play. The walls that you built start to tremble and crack, And the ghosts of the past come immediately back. The wholesome illusion of safety is gone, In a single sharp flash where the darkness moves on. The two trusted armours know just where to find, The broken off pieces that shelter the mind. Now you live with the truth of the storms you survived, And the rewiring done just to keep you alive. The OCD rituals, prayers in the dark, To claw back control from a merciless mark. The BPD feelings, fierce, heavy, and deep, Protecting the child that was forced not to weep. For every hard step that she lifted above, For the child who just wanted safety and love.