Spit Personality

[wiccan_wyf]

Where are you?
Said with confusion anger and fear
You've taken my life
left me here to be mother and wyf
To start over;
a new journey
a new life
Where has she gone?
The one I called me
She disappeared
she left
ceased to be
when she comes back she's harsh and mean
She hates my kids
and crushes my dreams
Turning me inside-out
and back again
She fucks my world
and leaves my head spinning
Always,
she seems to be winning
She hates me
it hurts me.
She holds evil thoughts
She is psychotic
and doesn't care if I'm not
Throws tantrums
screams and yells
she says shit like:
Who the hell cares?
She's part of me
my other half
The one who holds all the pain
of the past
She must be full inside
full of the pain
She only comes back
when she wants to attack
she lashes out
she makes my head hurt
she makes my kids cry
the whole time, I'm wondering why?
Don't pity me
I created her...
Or
did she create me?
As a release ?
As the good one?
I am the vessel
She is the loaded gun
Breaking free
Shot to fire
Where has she gone?
She bothers me now
Making life hell
Siphoning the memories out
Some trickle back
some never come
she keeps pieces
but gives up some
Never the good
only the bad
regretful
or just plain sad
The ones that never come back
she puts on a shelf
she hordes them
keeping to her self
she is me
I am she
She...
Who I used to be
Sometimes she reappears
Bringing dreams
Bringing fears
She catches me off guard
She makes this life…
So hard

[Crow]

I really loved this poem. Captured the good and bad that lies within.  

That internal struggle. I love how you put it.

Not sure if I would say a split personality, perhaps...dueling...until a balance is reached?

Look forward to more of your poetry!  :smt003

Safe Journey

[wiccan_wyf]

Merry meet and thank you crow.  I appreciate any feedback on any of my work.  This poem is truely about my split personality.  That is why it is named so.  I probably could have come up with a more creative title but I couldn't find one in me at the moment to give this work a name.  Thanks again.
Blessed Be

[ConfusedMind]

I would request both of you to read some real poetry before you try your hand in this genre. there's a difference between a split self and a personified form of fear and apprehension. read T. S. Eliot's The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock to get an idea. the conflicts in cases of split selves are of different types. this (peom) may appear to be a detailed description of the misery that has been caused to the 'poet' by mistakes or by misfortunes. but hardly can these mistakes and misfortunes be the split personality of a person. where is the depth of conflict that can call upon the creation of a split personality?

[Crow]

Wiccan Wyf,

I've read the poets of yesterday. It was part of our punishment.

For a week we would sit around tearing apart a classic...so much so that the body of students grew tired of tring to make any connection.  We just did it to make the grade.  What a shame.

Judging by the views your thread has recieved. It is one of the more popular poems. I know I have returned to read it over and over myself.

You had mentioned that you had split personality in your response. So I assumed that you were diagnosed with this condition. Since I am not a Psychologist I cannot dismiss the fact that you may suffer from this disorder.  This really facinates me since my mother suffers from this along with other things. You are trying to give words to something that describes your feelings. And for that my hats off.

It is kinda like a light switch. One moment this, and then her voice and facial expressions change.  The difference is that she cannot make any connection between the two. It is like she is two sometimes three different people. And when she does this she cannot recall for the life of her what she has said or done.  That is why it is so darn confusing for me to comprehend.  Because when she was a mom, she was one of the most loving cuddly creatures to be with. Then boom, she would have her claws and teeth out ready to shred anything within her vicinity.

Sure others may be able to write about the condition. That is not what interests me. I wish to know it from a person first hand.  It would be like me trying to talk about what it is like to have a happy joyous carefree past.  I've read about it, I could write those words that describe the story. But the words would be hollow. Lacking any raw emotion.  Which I found throughout this poem. Sometimes the best poets are the ones that live everyday life.  Who struggle to find the words to best describe what they are experiencing.  

I have read the classics. Some hold my interest, the rest are a good way to fall asleep.  They place so many darn rules within the literary community that it made me scream inside.

I perfer one who thinks outside the box...keep up the good work.

And if they don't like it...Tell them to "P!$$ off."


Safe Journey