Flowers without fresh water will die. Poetry writing entries.

To be seen or heard.

Yell to be heard.
Scream to be seen.
Cut people out and be called mean.

But it's not entirely my fault.
if she's mean then its okay. She deserves space and her attention is to be an exalt.

Her trauma is liable, she can cry when she wants, everyone is at her needs.
She doesn't have to scream to be seen.

If she's tired every one excuses her.
I have to constantly apologize.
She gets everything she wants and desires, her attitude is fine and everyone lets what ever she did flights.

But the moment I'm too tired and I'm beyond breaking.
When my smile starts fading and my legs are quaking.
I show discomfort and just want to be alone.
I'm the person who is never excused.
My attitude should stay to myself and I should push my self to be better, even when my heart is barely beating and I feel poison infused.

Why must I yell to be heard.
Something I picked up as a child.
I was rude and careless and called wild.
Did no one see the hurting child in-front of them?I guess I masked it well with a smile.
But all these people say they relate to me.. but they couldn't even walk in my shoes for a mile.

The grief I hold for something I didn't do.
It's not fair. That what ever I plead it's never seen as true.
Why must I scream to be seen.
Poor little me.

I had no one to hold when I was alone.
But of course she cries the victim every time when everyone caters to her and being alone is something she doesn't actually know.

I'm told I'm selfish.
But my life since I was young was sacrificed.
Burning alive in my own arms, sacrificed to care for myself as a child. I rocked myself to sleep.
I wiped me and my siblings tears holding them close as they did weep.

I walked me and my siblings home after the bus dropped us off.
Ask how was their day.
No one actually cared enough to ask for mine.
I guess that's why now once I'm done crying and wiped my tears I stand tall and not break in front of others I'll brush off my skirt and say I'm completely fine.

I lied about some extravagant life to those who cared enough to ask.
I sat on the bench watching my siblings play.
I'm not selfish because my life was theirs anyway.
Sleepless nights, hearing fighting constantly.
It was all my fault... my dad used to blame.
But I had to stand up for myself. I had to fight for my own name.

Now that I have a good life these things still haunt me.
The childhood I could have had.
The childhood everyone gets, why did mine have to be so bad.

I grieve my younger self.
To look in such innocent eyes, and which tears have fallen in abundance.
And she gets everything she wished, she had someone to hold her she never had to fight for herself, I have to yell to be heard I have scream to be seen and sometimes to be comforted, I have to turn to violence.

But alas it's never enough. And still to this day I plead over my own name.
My own life sacrificed to keep everyone burning. To keep their flame.

I could be burnt out... but still excepted to give my little speckle of fire away.
Forced to light a new one, cause no one lights it for me. I'm selfish because I'm brave enough now to finally choose me.
I'm lighting my own flame to give little me the right to be free.
Yet I still have to yell and scream to be heard and seen.

-Ilona Darling