Creating a path to a sane new world.
Posted by ASaneNewWorld
25th Jan 2014

I recently began writing as a way to process my past pain.
I wrote this within 5 minutes and when I read it back it still doesn't quite hit home that it was my reality as a child of a parent suffering with bi-polar.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

What a difference a day makes.
She wasn't the kind to be baking cakes.
She wasn't the type to paint her nails.
She wasn't the type to silence her wails.
With no support she did her best.
It didn't stop me from fleeing the nest.
The need to escape the madness leaves me with guilt.
With a force that threatens to destroy the walls I had built.
Coming home from school was a time I would dread.
Would today be the day that I would find you dead?
Worry and strife were a daily occurrence.
Tablets, pain and fear were around me in abundance.
Some days were fine and dinner was on the table.
Others less so, your poor mind so unstable.
I recall the time when I was so scared.
You screamed and you shouted and secrets were blared.
I reached out for some help, but when it came, I needed to be the adult again.
Why couldn't anyone see? See the little girl I needed to be?
Sirens wailing, official people around.
Surely now I could fall to the ground?
But I know of no other way, to grin and bear the pain away.
People talking as if I wasn't there.
My worst fear realised, we were taken into care.
All alone in a strange home.
Where were my brothers and were they alone?
My eyes tired but too scared too sleep.
My heart broken but unable to weep.

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