Surviving the Knife of Those Who Betray You!
A sample from Book 12
(April 21, 2018)—That knife becomes weaker when we gain the support of others, when we start to see the true meaning behind our life. That knife doesn’t come out that easy especially when you see everyone’s true disclosure.
There’s so much to say, then there’s nothing to say. I have this much on my mind: If they don’t want to see you, it doesn’t matter what you say or do, they won’t see you.
I’ve said a lot here on Facebook. I revealed a lot…but there’s a lot I haven’t revealed. So you only get a piece of the puzzle…never the whole picture. Why? Because I do have a life and part of that life is private as for everyone else. There’s a lot of pain I cover up…and, yes, there is still pain. There will always be pain because an entire portion of my life has been wiped out…and not by choice.
I tried calling my daughter. It appears that she’s changed her number. I think that odd because the words I last typed her in text were answers to words she said to me, but I’m held totally accountable. Why? Oh, because I’m 49 years old and should know better. I’m the mom…but that doesn’t come into affect when I’m called by my name instead of Mom. Just saying….
Knife
it was put in there‒
nice and tight
when I move around
to the left, to the right
it reveals its price
‒how it changed my life
the strength it took‒
robbing my mind
the way it makes me wanna fight
even if it isn't right
even if I said...say...things impolite
I was...am...gonna fight
‒even while speaking of the light
at times, I feel like a poltergeist
a faded memory...sliced and diced
forgotten the way I was
forever entombed in what I've become
not a homicide
‒a genocide of all that was nice
womanly, motherly...dignified
downgraded to a parasite
‒not fit for normal's life
should I be lost in contrite
bowed down in pity...outright
or was I absolutely right
turning childlike
begging for help‒
from Yeshuah, the Christ†
who has the right to decide‒
I'm the sacrifice
in order for them‒
to have their paradise
who had the right‒
shift truth to lies
bury this knife
in what used to be‒
a mother, sister, daughter, wife
in me...it so mystifies
how everyone becomes tongue-tied
when abuse is in transcribe
‒the victim screams in alive
how extreme...me...it mortifies
that, no matter which way‒
death...comes in die
twist, twist, twist the knife
gone daughter, sister, mother, wife
rebuilding exemplified
the alibis become jives
words in wisdom...just implied
while words...wombs...rob the mind
memories of building the first life‒
took one times forty-five
pull, pull, pull out the knife
time in modify
is there another forty-five
my, my, my how it mystifies
what comes of‒
pulling out the knife
Continue reading “‘Knife’”
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