Struggle & Resilience Poems

What did you want to be when you were small? Not that, surely? No child wants to be something like you

I folded a little paper aeroplane All sharp lines and bloody prints And for a moment I was quite proud of it Of what my stained fingers had wrought But then I saw it now no longer fit Inside the envelope

Where can I put this? My heart: a battered, bruised gash I cannot carry it long

Set it down in verse Bleeding makes a kind of sense Hurt is held, not shunned

The ache—it remains But—muted in the pages And now I can breathe Now—I can breathe

I'm sure I can feel my skeleton I'm just not sure it's mine The bones of my fingers tear through skin I can't hold a hand with these lines

I'm sure I can feel my skeleton He writhes just beneath my skin My muscles bulge and twist and ache Desperate just to hold him in

I'm sure I can feel my skeleton Not big enough for all he can hold Some mistake made in the factory I know I came from the wrong mold

I am a storm My clouds hang low in the sky Grey. Oppressive. Suffocating. The threat of rain looms And I hear their groans

I am a storm My winds pick up, trees sway, umbrellas break People shout to be heard I carry their words like my own And they complain

I am a storm My rain hits the pavement Lashes against windows A temporary flood They run, screaming

I am a storm My thunder echoes across the sky I shout and shout to be heard I am ignored They want me to shut up

I am a storm My lightning splits the air apart My anger hot and white and sharp I scorch the world they have built I scorch them

Bounce Bounce back I am weak and wanting Bounce I am small and scared Bounce back I am just a shadow Bounce Can't be seen to be cared Bounce back You are first and foremost Bounce Bright and loud and heard Bounce back I am hiding in the back Bounce Scarely say a word Bounce back

We try our best to keep them alive But cannot best a mother's pride Each bough and bush and twist and bend Nature takes all in the end

Dead wood and rot we cut away So ants and mice have space to play But who has let these trees decay Nature always finds a way

Guard new growth in a tiny cage So deer don't crush in fits of rage Lightning hits the newest shoot Split in two down to the root

A snap and a crack Elastic slaps back The band will break with a clap Finally worn through the strap Now it's nothing but a scrap Of the tool that could pick up the slack But it's gone with a snap No slack, no track Just a twist and the snap Bent, spent, tossed in the back Once it's cracked no way back Left a-lack, fade to black Just a scrap in the stack

I think it feels a lot like I am dying To realise, somehow, it's almost two And cooking something doesn't seem worth trying But eating something still I have to do And fight I must to make my body chew My stomach twists and groans now with regret And still I haven't eaten something yet

The fridge hums low, its light a silent sneer I close the door. Too bright, too cold, too loud The thought of feed now fills me more with fear Than hunger, which still whispers soft and proud My body, aching, now to see me cowed I hold my breath and pace the kitchen floor Still starving, still unsure what hunger's for

A box of flakes, half-stale, my grand defeat No fanfare as I pour them in a bowl No pride in milk and sugar-coated wheat Just shame that drips like honey on my soul A meal again that fails to make me whole I eat and feel the silence settle in A hunger fed, but not forgiven sin

Crack—in the wall, in tthe floor Echoes through the quad The school begins to fall Deep into the mud Smash—the broken windows And rip the ceiling tiles The school is swallowed by the Earth Hell has only just begun

I stand beside the crater Of what had been my week There's nothing left but dust and ash The hole is far too deep But even as my comfort Is swallowed up by dirt I set my shoulders, square my jaw And search for something else to hurt

I was told there would be gragons Ghosts and zombies Werewolves stalking me out in the woods Men in masks with sharp knives or a thug just after a roll of cash See, I was told there would be someone else Haunting me, hunting me A dragon in a lair and a princess to rescue A murderer on the loose Growing up expecting my enemies to be Anything else at all Anything but me

There is no arsonist save for the lining of my stomach no murderer but for my organs The thief is my own body sapping strength and will from my limbs I am the haunted house at the end of the road I beg to be left alone I long to be part of the world again I was told my challenges would be thrown to me by life Not take me apart piece by piece Until I become the ghost

And in the rowdy, wicked sea The lighthouse lights the way for me I wrench my boat on bended knee

The lighthouse lights the way for me A deadly path down through the quay Waves close in, I cannot flee

I wrench my boat on bended knee To find the smallest safe degree A whispered prayer, a whispered plea The lighthouse lights the way for me

My head is filled with TV static I don't mean to sound dramatic But I cannot find the tuner And so I must be quite emphatic About the buzzing of the static My lifestyle must seem fair erratic Jump through hoops, I'm acrobatic When I hit a roadblock, stumble My train of thought is enigmatic At the mercy of the static I never will be charismatic I sound just like a crazed fanatic One track mind, stuck on this path I really can be quite dogmatic When I'm stuck with TV static When I say to be pragmatic This is not a democratic Spiral that I'm falling down Nothing here is systematic At the mercy of the static Lock me up inside the attic Whenever I am astatic I am my own worst enemy No way to be diplomatic When my head is filled with TV static