A Cry for Help

Pulling out the poetry I wrote as a teenager has been difficult. It reminds me of the angst and uncertainty I felt. My father did a number on me. Unfortunately, my emotional scars ran deep. I believed his words and then took them to heart.

It is hard to admit, there were moments when suicide seemed like a option. Luckily, I never acted on it. My faith in God would not let me. I knew my life was not mine to take. Therefore, I sucked it up and continued fighting.

If I had known then what a I know now about my wonderful husband, beautiful children and miracle grandchildren, the battle would have been easier. In the long run, it was worth all the struggles, disappointments and pain to get where I am today.

The younger me; however, suffered greatly just as many teens do today. Perhaps by sharing my dirty little secret I can help another understand he or she is not alone. So I'll bare my soul and risk the consequences. It is a cry for help from a child. I think it is a cry that can still be heard from the four corners of the earth.

We must learn to listen. If we can't hear and comprehend the pain that our teens feel, we will continue to see the loss of lives that have only just begun. In the long run, that could diminish us all.

You win and I lose
What more is there to say?
I'll accept my defeat
And I'll just fade away.

You've broken my heart
And left me in the dust.
Go ahead and kick
If you feel that you must.

You know I won't fight.
My spirit is broken
Because I now get
The words you have spoken.

Nothing of import
Resides within this soul.
I'm finally convinced
It is time that I go.

My tears gently fall
As I kiss all goodbye.
I am such a fool
It is right that I die.