I cannot kill myself
Lest I go to hell
In dying naturally
There is a chance for mercy
The mercy God did not show
When he took my mother
The mercy God did not show
When depression He bestowed
I cut myself to heal
I cut myself to feel
To create my own mercy
That God did not bestow
©copyright Cindy Darkheart~DaRk Whispers-A Dark Poetry Blog
The best gift
I can give my daughter
Is to teach her
How not to be like me
To let her see my soul
To tell her my errs
And how not to be
Like me
To show her how to live
By sharing my life
How I do not live but exist
Do not be like me
I share my emptiness
And I show what anger does
It is the best gift I can give
How not to be like me
©copyright Cindy Darkheart~DaRk Whispers-A Dark Poetry Blog
What will they do with me
When I am gone
No church affiliation
No friends
What will they do
What will they do with me
When I am gone
I cannot lie with my mother
Who died when I was but a child
What will they do
She rests in a military cemetery
Where I cannot be buried
Even in death
I will be short-changed
What will they do
©copyright Cindy Darkheart~DaRk Whispers-A Dark Poetry Blog
They told me
God took her
To a better place
I remember thinking
How selfish of Him
He took my mother away
I needed her more
Than He ever would
Loss haunts my soul always
©copyright Cindy Darkheart~DaRk Whispers-A Dark Poetry Blog
Death changed me
Death made me
Who I am
Today
Anger changed me
Anger made me
Who I am
Today
Guilt fooled me
Guilt ruled me
Guilt took my life
Away
Scars healed me
Blood relieves me
It is how I still cope
Today
©copyright Cindy Darkheart~DaRk Whispers-A Dark Poetry Blog
A writer must write what he has to say, not speak it
Ernest Hemingway
Monsters roam the streets
In the guise of humans
Preying on the weak of mind
Those beaten down
And trodden by life
They really were not hard to find
Their weakened state
Left them susceptible to
The demons of the mind
Known by many names
Monsters of mental illness
Their reigns the ties that bind
They take over lives
Until they can cry no more
The enemy called the ninth kind
©copyright Cindy Darkheart~DaRk Whispers-A Dark Poetry Blog
I sat in the middle
Of a field of thistles
Enjoying my flavored coffee
Surrounded by
My prickly thoughts
Numbness my only defense
The thistles intruded
On all aspects of life
Like the lie that Satan told
Overwhelmed by pain
And thickened scars
Small joys I tried to hold on to
©copyright Cindy Darkheart~DaRk Whispers-A Dark Poetry Blog
Her body swings from the rafters
Trails of dried blood decorate her body
I hear the sound of laughter
Seemingly coming from me
I watch myself from a distance
Proud of what I have done
From my hands the blood I rinse
Adrenaline on the run
Again I am one with myself
Now it is time to be free
A typed note sits on the shelf
Murder suicide and me
01/09/12
©copyright Cindy Darkheart~DaRk Whispers-A Dark Poetry Blog
I want to forget my life
My past mistakes
That God calls lessons
I want to be numb
Without thought
Without reason
After all, there is no logic
There is no logic
To what creates my darkness
A simple thought
Ferments
To the point of obsession
To the brink of insanity
I am so exhausted
In my drunken stupor
My drunken quest
To numbness
To normalcy
1/09/12
©copyright Cindy Darkheart~DaRk Whispers-A Dark Poetry Blog
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