Hi EmiJ
You speak from the heart, such an intensely soulful trait. I feel for you so deeply through your words. I can feel how beautiful you are and how much pain you're in. Poetry is definitely the language of the soul and I've found it can also be the language of other parts of us, some parts that we keep hidden and/or parts that are yet to come to life in obvious ways. You've inspired me and have managed to resurrect the poet in me, a part of me I'd long forgotten about, a part that I used to channel more so when I was younger. I'm a 53yo gal, btw. You've led me to think 'What parts of myself would I like to express through poetry?'. The first paragraph I offer comes from the people pleaser in me, a facet that can prove tormenting at times. The second comes from the intolerant cow in me. I love her, the cow in me. She's a ripper, a 'tell it how it is' facet. Developing this part of me over the past few years has been a godsend for my self-esteem. Thanks for the inspiration Emi. You're a godsend 🤗❤️
Be careful with your bridges, do not burn them out of rage.
Aim to please, do not upset, you need others at this stage.
With just a tiny bit of confidence and an ounce of self esteem,
You need these people in your life, who chastise while they demean.
For who’d you be without them, those who set your path,
Those Dr Jekyl/Mr Hyde types who are kind until they laugh,
The types that boost your self-esteem, unless they’re making fun
Of that which means the world to you. You must please them, every one.
To hell with eggshells, burn each bridge and thumb your nose at all.
When anger rises, don’t ignore your courage with that call.
When you answer, dear, stand up straight and let it run it’s course
from gut to throat, announce yourself, ‘I speak with no remorse…
You are brutal and degrading, you’re depressing and plain rude,
As you spout ‘advice’ and ‘guidance’ with your general platitudes.
‘Toughen up,’ you say ‘you’re too sensitive’ you laugh
As you belittle in degrading ways as I struggle on my path.
In the dark comes light, I’ll shed for you, the truth I offer thee
You speak of what imprisons me, not of what sets me free.
You speak of shame and weakness, when it comes to how I sense
Not of power nor of depth, what you say is an offence.
You should admire me, be jealous of the fact that I can feel
So deeply, so intensely, in ways that are so real.
When next you feel compelled to take be down a notch
I will show you how real feeling works, if you care to watch’.
