Kind eyes blinked awake
In orange hues of sunlight
Little she knew of the days end
Less the pain of her fight
Threatened with a voice of steel
Hateful words pierce her bones
Enough for her to fall and kneel
Fighting hard to stop the tears
Listening for God as she soaks
Yet the fly still lives on for years
🌻
The words other people say can hurt you. Some would brush it off and say that's life.
But when it's your own family that those words of steel are coming from, well it's a little harder to do that. Your home is supposed to be a place where you feel safe, loved, wanted and rested.
And the people living there is what makes it so. Unfortunately due to certain situations that may not be the case.
The story behind this poem:
Mondays..
The day I'm home alone with one of my family members that I do not have a very good relationship with at the moment.
I spent the whole day cleaning, because of course there is always something to be done.
If there's nothing to do.. find something.. And I don't mean play a video game, read a book or eat some pizza... I mean scrub all your cupboards, benches, sanitise everything... I mean vacuum out the car, wash it. Mow your back lawn, front lawn and grandparents garden also...
Sooo I was cleaning, taking my time, listening to music to jam along with and then Fred* went ahead and ordered me to kill all the flies and disinfectant everything the flies had gotten on..
So while Fred had a nap I went ahead and sprayed bug spray all over the house. Closed all the windows, doors and put the bird outside.
And waited...
Waited for the spray to take effect and kill all the flies. Now I hid in my room to get rid of the smell and when I came out, I seen that most of the flies were gone only a few ones left.. But nothing else got done in that time. Fred woke up complaining that I am a f¿king D¿khead and F¿king foolish for having done ABSOLUTELY NOTHING in that time.
I told Fred that I was just waiting for the spray to work (with a tad mild procrastination mixed in) but that was not enough. And brought forth negative emotions and feelings that I had assumed I was over with.
In the end. I never managed to kill the last fly. Hence the last line in the poem.
I haven't wrote a poem in awhile. But I feel maybe if I start again I can use this as a way to let go of all this sporadical darkness that seems to keep pushing me down. A way to cope with my battles I'm struggling with.
*Name has been changed for Privacy...
🌌
Nadea x
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