A State of Death and Invisibility
Poem by Dana Young
(C) Dana Young 2020
I don't want to be here
Cant take this kinda pain
But yet the sun sets and rises again
With me still alive
Still trying to hide
from my feelings.
Still wishing for the healing
Of my fractured family.
My mom who doesnt care
That her addiction kills me...daily
Who doesnt see the real me...
Because I am not here.
I am invisible.
I dont need a cloak of invisibility to
Disappear.
I just open my eyes and vanish
Hidden from the view.
My money remains behind.
Only that is visible and she isnt
Blind to that
She Cant see how two decades of this
Have chipped away at my heart and soul
How I feel lifeless, breathless and cold.
Lost in the memories of better days
Pre addiction.
Despite my brothers evil there were better days.
Days when my mother made life great.
The trips and occasions and family fun
Before her brain was overrun
With thoughts of the next "hit"
And from where it'll come.
The next puff, the next escape from reality
The next escape it seems from me.
A drug isnt needed for that.
I am invisible, remember?
Was i ever seen? In 1990? September?
The day of my birth I died.
The day of my 10th year I was reborn
As a shell of my former self
Another chunk taken from the thinning
Armor of my heart.
Another piece blown away from my soul.
Draw me nearer lord.
Each day I feel my breath slip away.
It isnt the mask that make it hard to breathe.
Its a life that seems good but bad lies directly beneath.
Clawing its way to the surface.
I cant heal a wound that keeps forming.
Cant prepare for pain that comes with no warning
Even with a pattern my trusting heart fails to see.
I too am blind.
Blinded by the idea that change can come
And that is what hurts the most.
Believing in God but waiting forever
For good to happen.
I feel like my mom is laughing
At my pain or desire to fix her
She wants only drugs to be her elixir.
And when drugs are gone she is a sadder version of herself.
When drugs are there she is a hurtful person
A selfish and cruel version
Of who she is without the drugs.
I am tired of her "sorrys."
Each one is a link in a never ending chain.
Then she guilts me into making her feel better for hurting me
By giving her forgiveness and friendship again.
Something I will always give willingly
But it hurts.
Because of her mental health she says things like "I know I am evil and dont deserve to live" or cries
She knows my reaction will be to bury my pain deeper than 6 feet
Deeper than a grave.
Deeper than the coronavirus distance
Deeper than I stuffed my first pain at my brothers hands.
Deeper because I love her more than him
So its a deeper hurt.
To see her sink deeper into an endless pit
Of drugs and despair.
In an effort to disappear.
What she doesn't see is that she was never invisible but the heart of this family
That fell apart due to the devil cutting off the circulation by injecting evil people and then drugs into her veins.
Now she is lost to me.
To a girl that was always invisible
It feels strange but good to be seen.
To be appreciated and heard.
And loved unconditionally.
Like I love her.
I feel that life has me on merry go round
That is high above the ground.
Like the wheel of Ezekiel.
But I Cant see it.
Only feel the spinning and pain.
I have more inner sighs than cries
But that doesnt diminish how I feel inside.
Its another way of expressing pain.
To show how my heart is slain.
And my life flushed down the drain.
I have no desire to live or exist.
I am a shell of a shell.
Living in another form of hell.
Called earth.
No matter what I always put aside myself for my mom.
To try to pull her into recovery and sanity
To try to set her mind and heart free
From the bonds that others created.
The shackles that they tightened with each evil deed upon her.
I try, unsuccessfully to reach within the depths
Of her pain to try to knock away the demons that eat away at her mind.
But I cant and it kills me daily.
Each dollar spent on a twisted "want" and not her needs
Each puff is one step closer to OD.
One wrong move, one bad batch and I
Come home to a carcass.
Of my own mother.
Who doesnt seem to care because death is her "make a wish" in a cancerous life
That she yearns to shed like the clothes
She has to repeat due to the cruel and thieving drugs
The drugs and dealers that I hate more
Than coronavirus, cancer, heartbreak...
More than I hate being invisible.
When you are invisible it gives you an
Inside view into heartache and suffering.
It makes you a helpless bystander
Like a living ghost.
Who cant help and that is what hurts most.
When will this end?
Why is life this way?
What test must I pass to pass on?
Or to live a better life while I am here?
And will i ever be alive or reappear?...
Poem by Dana Young
8/3/20 3:40 pm.
Mood? Crying and defeated
