Distress Call

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem of how life circumstances can get you down but to not give up b/c life is hard.

Submitted: December 12, 2011

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Submitted: December 12, 2011



I’m looking for hope via the internet. But I’m not sure where to turn. So many advertisements that say they can help; yet my problem tends to not be there concern. So what I don’t get along with my mother; the spaces they have service others in need. And yes, although I have kids, there’s no room for families. And even if space was available how would I get around. My children have school and finally I have a job and the public transportation does not travel the entire town.

My efforts seem meaningless. My tries are not counted. My ability to do more than I can, have been exhausted. My skills are limited and my confidence is lower than low. And a full-time job search is slow. No one wants to hire someone like me. Not much experience, knowledge and no degree. I attempt further education to enhance my presumed ability, but the work is overwhelming and my family duty depletes my energy.

Oh how I get so sad, when my mother has nothing positive to say about me. Even though I am grown she belittles me horribly. It hurts a lot and still I understand where she comes from. So I try to push myself but still follow a bad outcome.  She doesn’t notice my strength, my endurance, my effort.  All she sees is me as added pressure to her comfort.

So what do I do when I am where I am no longer wanted? Kill myself. No. I have kids I love and they love me. Run away. No. I’m to grown for that. Maybe, I’ll just pick myself up and try again. That’s all I have to give. No one cares or has to give to me but me. It’s very hard especially when you are living under another person’s sanctuary and all you are is a liability. I am nothing to any one and no one to everyone but my kids. I am me.

 I gave a lot of me to those who didn’t deserve and now I have to live with the regret that I gave myself to everyone but myself and God. Now God only can lift me up; give me back my confidence; reassure me that I am beautiful, worthy and meant for success. I am not a loser, a sloppy second, a secret, a no body, worthless, user. I am worthy to be cherished, love, first, appreciated. I want my feet washed the same way as I would wash yours. I want to be treated equal, even when I can’t give equally b/c the truth of the matter is; I am always thinking of ways I can show you that I am fair and considerate and I have you in my best intentions.

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