Chapter three "Upturned"

Mily the Millennial

Scenes inside of pips

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@ b y k a i l e y a n n

#haiku

Links to Book:

https://theprose.com/book/3224/mily-the-millennial

https://hederareads.com/mily-the-millennial

I feel it in the rain

whatever's coming

checked the creek go'n over the bridge

had a hunch it was flooding

and it yep the stream was lapping the banks

my guess forty-seconds to two-minutes without a rain break

and there'll be water touching the edges of the dip in the road

if it keeps up I'll have to take Greensburg home.

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@ b y k a i l e y a n n

#poetry #poem #freeverse #naturepoem #nonfiction

You know your fires out

Spend the sunlight stuck inside

Stare longingly out the window

Wishing you could kill the doubt

.

You can’t help but be controlled

By your pained emotions

And racing thoughts

That try and haunt your soul

.

Hunched over, body aches

Working deep into the night

Nothing but a vessel

An organic machine, cannot wake

.

Wasted days, loosing time

Your lovely home

Now a lonely prison

Starved soul, muddled mind

.

You know your fires gone

A bird lands on the ledge

Their gaze meets your eye

Convinces you to fight on

.

Run free

.

Melanie Costello

Hope is an overused term

But nothing else

Quite describes

The feeling I get

Standing in this little home

Ive made my own

Ive stopped working

In the banal regularity

Focusing on my whole self

In the now, right here

Comfort in the chaos

Its a wondrous world

When you block the worries of late

Quit the routine, turn off the lights

Watch the summer storms instead,

The lightning cracks and thunder claps

It crescendos, a grand finale

The sun peaks through

Calmness restored

The mourning doves and

House sparrows dance around

Telephone poles and power lines

The budding pagoda trees

Drop off their children in the yard

Hope is an overused term

But nothing else

Quite describes

This

Melanie Costello

@whitewolfe32

It's hard to breathe here,

You’re suffocating in toxicity.

You try to blink back tears and can taste their salt,

wounds may heal but scars remember their own pain.

You want escape so you seek refuge in the safe corners of your brain.

You feel yourself slipping deeper but you fight back and at times,not only survive- you thrive.

But you know this will be short-lived,

For the shadows

always creep back in- stealing the light,

And you’re dragged back down into darkness like night,

Into those places where the pain runs deep,

Into memories like nightmares that won't allow you to sleep.

When I’m talking to her, really talking to her…

I’m talking to myself. My younger-self,

and trying to say the things I’d want to have said to me, if I were her.

I’m trying to be the parent I needed. So I try to be the parent that she needs,

to improve myself to help her improve.

This is love. Unconditional. Pure.

Soiled only by the demons that have crept on my back,

I keep pushing them back;

The ghosts and voices of the dead and the damned, the righteous and the grand…

All take a stand.

She is not me. She is everything I am and could be,

and so much more.

I worry for what lies ahead on the other side of Future's door.

It’s not a pretty world, I say. As I try to explain to her,

Well maybe it is, it can be.

I’m not without fault. I’ve made my mistakes along the way,

Perhaps that’s why I’m more forgiving of hers,

I’d have needed more forgiveness when I look at my younger-self,

so I will give it now for her.

And in turn, I see myself through her eyes,

And hear myself through her words.

She mirrors to me, what I can work on within,

She challenges me,

my friend and my kin.

Things still do not unfold

It's a story untold

With reality on hold

In warmth, in cold

It'll never bath in gold

It is just a blindfold

It has my soul sold

Leaving me uncontrolled

As if i am paroled

Am i again remold-

©gilly20210814

Her raped soul

It would never heal

Even not with old scars

A tibetan wave of mystic

Tried to mend the rifts in

The stitched bloodskin

In a foreign language

Her thoughts quarreled with

Tortured experiences

Even the muses had a bad time-

©gilly20210813

It’s weird

When you think of amnesia

You think of losing a lifetime

But for me

For us

It’s minutes

It’s days we have no memory of until someone let’s us in

It’s the little things

It’s the big things

That take so little time

That impact us for the rest of time

It’s not knowing how you got somewhere

It’s being startled when the TV plays a comercial

When a character was in the middle of a sentance

It’s the little things

Sometimes it’s memories you wish would have stayed gone

Or pain you never wanted to know

Of course it’s not always minutes

Or even days

Some times it’s weeks

Months

Even Years.

And with the pain

Lie happy memories

Memories that I want to know

But I also don’t

Because it then feels like the abuse is excused

That the pain was Justified

The trauma was Justified

That I am Not justified

And suddenly I’m a little kid

I have no rights again

I deserve the pain again

I do not deserve to live again

But then I remember the minutes I’ve lost

I remember the people who lived those memories

I remember that they have my back

That I am not alone

However frustrating that may be

However many times I want them to stop singing

To stop critisising

They are there

They are Real

Even if we don’t have a diagnosis yet

Even if we don’t always believe it

We are..

We are us.

And That’s enough for us.

Hello sky,

hello moon,

hello stars

oh how i’ve missed you.

it’s been a long day

and i have tried so hard

but failed once again.

i am so glad you’re back.

i can finally relinquish the tears i held back

because your light shines down serenity to my soul.

i am finally at peace.

thank you for coming.