On the Go, Eternally.
Living eternally on the go,
Some would say,
Not for me, no.
I, however,
Find excitement in the new,
A new a day,
A new place,
And new way.
Presenting a new face.
I am not running,
Nor hiding,
Just getting on the train and riding.
Not losing myself,
I am taking in the worlds wealth.
So I’ will clear these shelves,
Place my home into a box,
And I am off to know more,
These are my building blocks.
Demons are my Angels
My Demons are my Angels,
my Angels are from Hell.
Is it right?
Or is it wrong?
I don't think I can tell.
Born from damnation,
With insatiable, rabid thirst.
A true abomination,
has now been dispersed.
The curse that is I.
I feel it is rehearsed.
So tell me please,
which is better and
which is worse?
That my Demons are my Angels?
Or that my Angels are from Hell?
Empire.
The Empire and its King,
Will never want,
of the same thing.
For the wants of average men,
are simple to rend.
Whilst the wants of The King,
they shall never end.
Once I had believed,
that I bled like an Empire.
So it is to myself,
I had been the liar.
As the King himself,
I only strive to get higher.
The King has burned his path,
Is now walking through the fire.
And when I return,
Only The King himself, will be tired.
#bpd #personalitydisorder
Our Babies Never Heard
The night the world lost a hero,
I remember every word.
I remember every action,
None of it has blurred.
The CPR instructions.
That our children never heard,
Are burned within my mind.
They are perfectly preserved.
The night our boys lost their father,
I breathed deep within his chest.
I pushed so hard upon his breast,
I checked, somehow, my panic,
So that our sons would not stir.
Praying that this memory,
Was one they would have not to endure.
When life saving measures.
Were taken from my hands,
I swooped up my babies,
With a blanket over head.
I rushed them down the hall,
And placed them on the bed.
I made it back in time to see,
The paramedic start to push.
How easily his hands pressed in so deep,
Too deep I was so sure.
He said that his chest had already cracked,
Had I hurt him even more?
I finally started to cry
Until the paramedic,
caught my tear filled eye,
He told me that it meant,
That i’d done a real good job.
That is when,
I broke into a sob.
‘Is he breathing, Is he breathing?’
I dreadfully implored.
‘No, we are doing that for him’
And then I hit the floor.
I began to pray
To god and more.
I prayed in English,
Hebrew and with no words.
They were Flowing from within.
They were simply bleeding,
Bleeding from my core.
‘Administering Epinephrine’
Administering again.
‘We have a pulse’
‘We lost it’
‘There it is again’
‘He’s not real big, lets move him.’
‘Before it fades again’.
Then they left so quickly,
As though they’d never been.
I made my way back to our boys,
I layed upon the bed.
Knowing deep within my heart,
That our beautiful family
Had just come to a very tragic end.
Our Babies Never Heard
The night the world lost a hero,
I remember every word.
I remember every action,
None of it has blurred.
The CPR instructions.
That our children never heard,
Are burned within my mind.
They are perfectly preserved.
The night our boys lost their father,
I breathed deep within his chest.
I pushed so hard upon his breast,
I checked, somehow, my panic,
So that our sons would not stir.
Praying that this memory,
Was one they would have not to endure.
When life saving measures.
Were taken from my hands,
I swooped up my babies,
With a blanket over head.
I rushed them down the hall,
And placed them on the bed.
I made it back in time to see,
The paramedic start to push.
How easily his hands pressed in so deep,
Too deep I was so sure.
He said that his chest had already cracked,
Had I hurt him even more?
I finally started to cry
Until the paramedic,
caught my tear filled eye,
He told me that it meant,
That i’d done a real good job.
That is when,
I broke into a sob.
‘Is he breathing, Is he breathing?’
I dreadfully implored.
‘No, we are doing that for him’
And then I hit the floor.
I began to pray
To god and more.
I prayed in English,
Hebrew and with no words.
They were Flowing from within.
They were simply bleeding,
Bleeding from my core.
‘Administering Epinephrine’
Administering again.
‘We have a pulse’
‘We lost it’
‘There it is again’
‘He’s not real big, lets move him.’
‘Before it fades again’.
Then they left so quickly,
As though they’d never been.
I made my way back to our boys,
I layed upon the bed.
Knowing deep within my heart,
That our beautiful family
Had just come to a very tragic end.
Our Babies Never Heard
The night the world lost a hero,
I remember every word.
I remember every action,
None of it has blurred.
The CPR instructions.
That our children never heard,
Are burned within my mind.
They are perfectly preserved.
The night our boys lost their father,
I breathed deep within his chest.
I pushed so hard upon his breast,
I checked, somehow, my panic,
So that our sons would not stir.
Praying that this memory,
Was one they would have not to endure.
When life saving measures.
Were taken from my hands,
I swooped up my babies,
With a blanket over head.
I rushed them down the hall,
And placed them on the bed.
I made it back in time to see,
The paramedic start to push.
How easily his hands pressed in so deep,
Too deep I was so sure.
He said that his chest had already cracked,
Had I hurt him even more?
I finally started to cry
Until the paramedic,
caught my tear filled eye,
He told me that it meant,
That i’d done a real good job.
That is when,
I broke into a sob.
‘Is he breathing, Is he breathing?’
I dreadfully implored.
‘No, we are doing that for him’
And then I hit the floor.
I began to pray
To god and more.
I prayed in English,
Hebrew and with no words.
They were Flowing from within.
They were simply bleeding,
Bleeding from my core.
‘Administering Epinephrine’
Administering again.
‘We have a pulse’
‘We lost it’
‘There it is again’
‘He’s not real big, lets move him.’
‘Before it fades again’.
Then they left so quickly,
As though they’d never been.
I made my way back to our boys,
I layed upon the bed.
Knowing deep within my heart,
That our beautiful family
Had just come to a very tragic end.
As Our Babies Slept.
The night the world lost a hero,
I remember every word.
I remember every action,
None of it has blurred.
The CPR instructions.
That our children never heard,
Are burned within my mind.
They are perfectly preserved.
The night our boys lost their father,
I breathed deep within his chest.
I pushed so hard upon his breast,
I checked, somehow, my panic,
So that our sons would not stir.
Praying that this memory,
Was one they would have not to endure.
When life saving measures.
Were taken from my hands,
I swooped up my babies,
With a blanket over head.
I rushed them down the hall,
And placed them on the bed.
I made it back in time to see,
The paramedic start to push.
How easily his hands pressed in so deep,
Too deep I was so sure.
He said that his chest had already cracked,
Had I hurt him even more?
I finally started to cry
Until the paramedic,
caught my tear filled eye,
He told me that it meant,
That i'd done a real good job.
That is when,
I broke into a sob.
‘Is he breathing, Is he breathing?’
I dreadfully implored.
‘No, we are doing that for him’
And then I hit the floor.
I began to pray
To god and more.
I prayed in English,
Hebrew and with no words.
They were Flowing from within.
They were simply bleeding,
Bleeding from my core.
‘Administering Epinephrine’
Administering again.
‘We have a pulse’
‘We lost it’
‘There it is again’
‘He’s not real big, lets move him.’
‘Before it fades again’.
Then they left so quickly,
As though they’d never been.
I made my way back to our boys,
I layed upon the bed.
Knowing deep within my heart,
That our family beautiful family
Had just come to a very tragic end.
#grief
#death
#widow
#trauma
What The Sparrow Saw
I want to tell you a story. A story about a Tree. This particular Tree was different from all the other trees. It was different because it was sick. It was rotting on the inside. Beneath its rich bark lay a disease that was softening the wood, leaving it to reek of the smell of earthy, moist decay.
While all the other trees gratefully turned up their leaves to receive the life giving sustenance from the Sun, the Tree only sagged beneath it. It had too much darkness within.
Laying beneath this melancholy and hopeless Tree was a Fruit, its Fruit.
Grown with great care from blossom to bud it lay in the shade of what should have been wisdom and protection.
The fruit, innocent and naive, could not see the disease that lingered beneath the Trees bark. So it could not have known that as the suns rays passed through the leaves of the Tree that it became tainted and infected with sickness, or that the pollen that fell and settled as a thin layer upon the skin of the Fruit was a sick and twisted variation of the Tree and, nothing of the Fruit.
It was in this manner that the Fruit developed. Oblivious that the image it wore was that of the Tree and not of its own.
The Fruit now wore the sickness that was within the Tree and could not see that just beneath its surface lay beauty and goodness.
One day, as the sun shined through a perfect blue sky the Fruit met a Sparrow. The Sparrow, having seen the Fruit from time to time, noticed that the Fruit had no friends. Curious as to why, Sparrow began watching the Fruit and after only a couple of days it had not only failed to discover the cause, it had begun to love the Fruit. It was because of this that the Sparrow had flown down and made the acquaintance of the Fruit.
When the Sparrow announced that it wanted to be friends with the Fruit, the Fruit could not understand why. Could the Sparrow not see what the Fruit was? Was the Sparrow playing a cruel joke? Having considered every possible reason the Sparrow could have for wanting to befriend it, save for one, that one being that the Sparrow could see that the Fruit was worth making a friend of.
Despite the Fruits confusion, it was glad to have a friend, and as time passed the friendship only grew deeper and more meaningful, and with it, the Fruits guilt grew too. The Fruit knew what it was and felt as though it were robbing the Sparrow of something, deceiving it in some way. The Fruit could not fathom that it was worth it. So the Fruit began to push the Sparrow away. It cared too much for the Sparrow to continue taking a friendship it did not deserve. This greatly saddened the Sparrow, and with a heavy heart the Sparrow left the Fruit.
More time passed and the days became shorter, the nights colder. The Suns benevolence though still ever present, could not be felt as strongly, and with each day more of the Trees sickened leaves would fall leaving its limbs bare and the Fruit buried beneath.
The ache in the heart of the Sparrow only worsened. It did not understand how or why the Fruit could not see the treasure that it was.
So once again, the Sparrow went to watch the Fruit.
Perched on a high branch of the Tree the Sparrow was taken by surprise by a strong gust of frigid air that whipped both bird and the branch it had been perched upon into the air. Before the Sparrow could spread its wings, another gust of wind came from a above forcing the Sparrow to crash through the Tree and land with a thud on the ground at its base with the branch still gripped within its feet. Dazed from the fall the Sparrow lay staring at the gray sky, feeling as broken as the wood it gripped, and that’s when the Sparrow smelled it.
It was musty and earthy, moist and cloying, and it was coming from the branch. Looking closely at the wood beneath its bark the Sparrow finally understood. Maybe if the Fruit knew that it was the Tree that was sick and diseased and not the Fruit itself they could be friends again.
Pulling the stick to where the Fruit lay almost entirely buried in leaves the Sparrow explained what had happened. The Sparrow explained that the Tree had led the Fruit to believe that the sickness around them was the Fruits fault. That the Fruit could not see itself for what it truly was because it had never known otherwise. It had only been shown disease and decay.
The Fruit listened to the Sparrow. It even understood what the Sparrow was saying, and deep inside knew that the Sparrow was right. However, the Fruit knew it was hopeless, that it had lived in the diseased shadow of the Tree for too long. That to see itself for the magnificent Fruit that it was would be impossible. So the Fruit buried itself deeper within the leaves of the Tree.
After some time the Sparrow said softly “Please Fruit, don’t give up. You’re worth so much more” and with that the Sparrow once again flew away. The Sparrow did not know that it had been the first time the Fruit had ever been told it was worth it.
The winter was long and cold and the Fruit was left with much time to consider what it had learned.
Eventually the snow began to melt, and the Sun was showing promise that it would soon fill the air with its life giving light, but the Fruit felt little joy in this. It knew that it would still only reach the Fruit after being tainted by the Tree.
One morning the Fruit woke up to see that all the snow had melted. That the sun was shining and that the trees were stretching their cold limbs to meet it. All the trees were joyous, save for one. The sick Tree did not reach, it did not stand tall. It slumped as though it were still weighed down with ice and snow. This made the Fruit sad for the Tree. Even though the Tree had burdened the Fruit, the Fruit still loved the Tree. The Fruit also understood the Tree, it did after all bare the same sickness even if it weren’t the Fruits to bare. The Fruit began thinking of ways to help the Tree, but how could it when the Fruit couldn’t even help itself? This gave the Fruit an idea.
If the Fruit could leave the diseased shade of the Tree and open itself to the possibility of healing, then maybe the Tree would see that it was possible and do the same. But the Fruit would have to leave the Tree to do this and that scared and saddened the Fruit. The Fruit was about to give up on the idea entirely when he remembered the last thing the Sparrow had said ‘don’t give up, you’re worth so much more.’
Filling itself with a courage the Fruit didn’t actually believe, it rolled to the edge of the Trees shade. The Fruit took one last look up at the Tree and though the Fruit did not feel itself to be worth it, the Sparrow did and for now, that was enough. The Fruit rolled out from under the Tree. It rolled until it was far enough from the Tree that the sickness would not still be felt if caught on a breeze.
The Fruit knew it was going to be a long hard road ahead. That removing everything it had known about itself would take time. There was no going back now so there was only one thing left that the Fruit could do, and that was to build a new belief about itself. The fruit began chanting to itself “I am worth it. I am worth it. I am worth it.” It was not felt, but eventually it would be.
It was like this that Sparrow found the Fruit. Out of the shade and nervously repeating that it was ‘worth it.’
The Sparrow wasn’t surprised at all. The Sparrow had always known that the Fruit was brave enough, and strong enough to leave everything it had ever known behind if it could only see, even if only a sliver, of what the Sparrow saw in the Fruit.
#mentalhealth #selfworth #selfesteem #toxic #healing #worth