Stand Still, Look Pretty

A poetic word-sketch about hidden rage from abuse and neglect.

Anger.

White hot.

I'm a conduit for lightning strikes.

They say lightning never strikes the same place twice,

But I feel it strike again and again.

When will it end?

The lightning is in me.

The lightning is me.

My thundering heart,

I want to rage at the sky.

Rage.

Ice cold.

60 below.

When there's nowhere to place it

Where does it go?

Implode.

I hold it all in --

Hold back my "evil" twin.

"Good girls play nice"

Good? Yep, that's me.

Becoming what they want me to be.

Never let them see you cry.

Never fight. Never yell.

Not even in this relentless hell.

"You're so pretty when you smile."

My throat is raw.

"Such a pretty child."

It's the final straw.

I want to scream.

I wish I'd bruise or break or bleed.

Anything to make them see.

I'm so good at hiding what they do to me.

Or so I think,

But those who would look,

Would see the break.

Look at me!

LOOK. AT. ME.

"I can't. It hurts too much to see."

So, they close their eyes,

And I do too.

Float away.

It's nothing new.

An age-old trick

I learned from you.

Anger, rage, fear, and shame --

Let's call them by another name.

Anything to ignore the pain,

Pass the buck, pass the blame.

"Hormones and Anxiety" --

We'll medicate it.

Watch and see.

"You'll feel better in about 6 weeks."

Numb. I feel numb.

It only dulls the ache.

My anger sleeps,

while I'm awake.

But when I sleep

It escapes.

Nightmares, nightmares,

Every night.

I wake again,

In utter fright.

I want to be held.

I want to kick and scream and YELL.

This lightning

How do I let it out?

Out, out, I want it OUT.

Where's the channel?

The duct?

The gutter?

Siphon it out.

Watch as I sputter,

And spit and cough,

And vomit it up.

Just when I think,

That's it, it's out.

I hear another part of me shout.

And I secretly fear,

It's a bottomless pit.

I'm out of breath.

Maybe I'll just sit.

Pretend it's not there --

Take their advice.

It's too hard to care,

I'd rather play nice.

So I smile and I fawn

…it's better than pity.

Don't let them see.

Just stand still, look pretty.