I can't tell.... A poem

I can't tell

I can't

It's not because I won't

It's not because I don't want to

It's not because I was told not to

All those things may be true

But that's not why I can't tell you

I want to say it out loud

But I'm not allowed

My mind won't let me 

My voice won't come out see

But it's not just that

Inside is a combat

I write it down

But it stays unfound

I send a clue

But nobody believes it's true

I try so hard

Still can't let down my guard

Its as if I keep it open to interpretation

Than I still have hope for deception

Side baring the truth 

To cover my lost youth

So I will never be harmed

Like I was then, unarmed

 

There is a little girl

So sweet like a pearl

There is a mean man

The girl is not a fan

She runs to hide

But she can't and comes out from inside

She watches what is done

She is completely stunned

He leaves her on the floor

But it's not over because he has done it before

He will do it again

And the hurt is begin

Speaking Part 3

Speaking Part 3

Fan fiction of "Speak" by  L.H. Anderson, to whom " Speak" is owned.

Part 3

The usual, Kathy walks out. we walk in.

Kathy. Did you bring your drawing?

Me. Reaches onto my bag and pulls it out.  Hands it to her.

Kathy. Wow you are an amazing artist, have you thought about this as a profession?

Me. Shrug

Kathy. You should you are very talented.

She looks over the drawing intently, I gawk out the window hoping not to have to answer questions.

Kathy. Can you tell me what this is of

Me.

Kathy. You don't have to but I would love to know what inspired the emotion in this piece

Me.(amazed she is so clueless of IT, am I the only one who can see IT written all over the page?)

Kathy.

Me. It's of IT.

Kathy. It being?... The night you were raped?

Me.

Kathy. It's alright we don't have to talk about that until your ready.  It's nice to hear you though and it was very brave of you to bring this in.  What would you like to talk about.

Me. Shrugs

Kathy. Would you like to talk about it?

Me. Shrugs, swallow hard

Kathy. Here, I'll give you an easy question.  Do you remember what you were wearing.

Me. Nods 

I close my eyes.  Pink shirt new skirt, why did I wear that? I must of been asking for it, not even wearing shorts underneath.  I see him, IT, him before IT.  How could I be so stupid.  He was paying way too much attention to me, I should have known he was after something else.

Kathy. Wait there

Me. My eyes fly open I forgot she was even there.  I forgot I was even talking out loud.

I try to take the words back stuffing them back in swallowing them down, it's no use they made it into her ear already.  I stand up and take up my backpack.  My legs are moving without my control.  I walk home, just like on that night.

Home

Mom. Hey Melinda your back early

Me.

She's been extra nice since she heard about it.  My opening up on that last day of school lasted, actually no it never lasted .  I retreat to my room and under my covers in my small safe tent.

I can't believe I said that.  I can't believe I said that.

Stay tuned for part four!

Catastrophic Thinking

I was foolish

I was stupid

I jumped too fast

And forgot to check for the ground

The fall was like flying

But the ground came fast

I hit hard and it hurt a lot

I don't get a second chance

A redo to redeem myself

My cold body twitching on the rock

I would take it back

Plummet farther and reach the water

But I can't now

It's over it's done

I guess I have to find a way to go on

You know people call this catastrophic thinking....... I got a 60% on a quiz.

Dumb

Dumb

I must be dumb

I was not prepared for this outcome

I was not ready to see the text staring back at me

A knotted vine to unravel from the tree

A maze lost and bewildered

Met with anticipation and I shivered

It's too hard I forced myself down

I burry myself so deep I drown

Loss of hope I feel I must be my best

But I can always be a little better I take away rest

The nights grow frightening

The clouds shot down lightning

And I'm still striving for perfection

I'm to hard on myself take to heart every correction

Top notch I can do more than I think

Until on day I'm overloaded and I sink

I fear good enough

I mock it and at it I scuff

I get caught up in attempts to improve

My soul and purpose the attempts remove

I am no longer a girl but a shell

But all others see is me excel

Inside I fall

But others witness me rise up tall

Your eyes deceive

No longer can I believe

Frozen

Another poem.  I'm thinking about reading this one to my therapist but I'm not sure, it's a really scary thought for me.

Frozen

I feel like I'm frozen

Seven-year-old chosen

Favorite of Him

Victim

I never grew up

Just painted this phycological makeup

Hoped to get rid of the fear

Now, I'm in my sixteenth year

My memories

They're stories

I don't own them but nobody told them

Coming from my head but I can't feel them

The shame

Responsibility I claim

I could of said done tried more

But I stayed silent to endure

Would they have believed

What he has thieved

Or denied

Called it lies

Now I'm older

But still carrying this bolder

Letting it out

That's what they say its about

What happens if I tell

On it they dwell 

Tell, Secret suddenly

Everyone knows, they see ME

A me broken 

Never out spoken

Dreamer lost

Disposed of tossed

Could they really assist

Or would the truth twist

Bend flexed into a more believable lie

One that doesn't make em cry

When they hear what they want to hear

contorted to a burden they can bare

 No, they might listen to what I say

I need healing I don't care for him to pay

I would wish to forget

But I still feel the threat

I do rather remember it

I have to admit

So now I have told

To others please withhold

They don't need to know

This one request to me you owe

Thank you

To Talk

A new poem I've been working on.  It's about my struggle with selective mutism.

To talk

Heart thump thump thump

In my throat a lump

Head racing

Palms sweating

Lights flashing

World crashing

Stop

Slow motion pen drop

Tick- tok tick- tok

Brain question roadblock

Say something

I have nothing

What did she ask

An answer shouldn't be such a task

Come on think think think

Eyes blink

She's looking at me

Deep breath in and out calmly

It's no use my lungs are glass

I look out at the sassafras

I try to say just a word

But her eyes aren't on me anymore

I wish Like others it would be easy to talk 

Instead out the window I gawk

Eventually she will say something

Maybe a new subject matter she will bring

If I'm lucky I'll find my voice

As if all along it was a choice

Speaking Part 2

Speaking- fan fiction for" Speak" by L.H. Anderson

*disclaimer*  "Speak" is owned my its respective author

Part 2 ( see part one on my blog)

"So how does that make you feel"

The court recommended I get therapy.  Andy Evens gets one year puerile, and a week future criminal prevention program.  I get to sit in a dimly lit room with "calm painting"  and tell someone how I feel.  The juvenile criminal justice system is a cruel joke.

     This is how therapy goes.  She comes out, we go in.  Her name is Kathy.

Kathy.  What would you like to talk about today

Me.  

Kathy.   How was you week

Me.    Fine

Kathy.  Do want to talk about what happened?

Me.

Kathy.  You know Melinda, your not going to resolve anything if you refuse to engage in any conversation.

Me.

Kathy.  Do you want to play a bored game

We have spent three sessions playing checkers.  She lets me win a lot, it's to build my confidence.  I don't tell her I know.

Today at the end on session she gives me homework.  She wants me to draw "fear" she also tells me I cannot completely erase and start over any part of the drawing and I am to bring it with me next week.  She reassures me that she won't make fun of it if its as simple a stick figures and she doesn't care how good it is.

At home I think of starting the drawing.   I can't get an image in my head though. I could draw a fantastic tree, but I've done so many trees and I have the option to anything I desire this time.

My mom calls me down for dinner.  This will have to wait for another time.

Summer Art Program

Mr. Freeman's mural is a tree.  I like it.  It's much more convincing then mine and its creepy staring back at me because I'm betting somehow I inspired it on that last day of school, he ran to draw an outline like a little kid to the bathroom after I told him about IT.  I don't want to stare at it too long either, I'm afraid it might come to life on me, no matter how ludicrous it sounds.  (Two points vocab word)

The art program is run much like class; however, as long as we work he doesn't assign a subject.  It's peaceful, away from family, unquestioned draw what you wish down time.

I take up a pencil, I want to draw IT, much less bluntly however.  Like the teachers hidden in mr. Freeman's painting.  My awareness floats off as I draw, I am completely focused but I'm not thinking about it one bit.

I return my paper still in front of me and my pencil still outlining the image.  It shakes me I couldn't have drawn this it's everything, it's too much.  I want to wad it up toss it before anyone sees it as if they could look through me if I showed it to them.  Mr Freeman stands a top me looking down at my work.

Mr. Freeman. That is amazing! It's meaningful and abstract. Melinda, this is better than anything I've ever done myself!

Me.

Me. Frozen

Me.

I look for signs of mind reading.  I wonder if he sees into my head now.  He doesn't seem to.  He seems the same except amazed. Amazed. Amazed at me. Concluding my drawing gave him no super powers and realizing how disappointed he would be if I chucked it I decided to continue.

It needed color next.  I find the box of colored pencils with more colors than one could ever use.  Most of them still have their fresh from store triangle tips.

I find several shades of gray and dark purple, that's about all the color this sketch could handle.

When I finished it it look really good, really good.  I'm not sure if I actually drew it, that is how good it looks.

Since its abstract maybe I could bring it in to show Kathy.  I don't think she would be able to see through me if Mr. Freeman couldn't.

I put it in the folder in my bag.  I won't take it out until I see Kathy. Two people seeing this is plenty

I hope you like it, I'll work on the next part to have it out shortly!  I love comments.