Words a Mother Never Heard (Wattys2016)

The Clock

I can not sleep,

And I am unsure why.

Have I been to honest,

Or to myself have I lied?

Minutes seem like days

Seconds even longer.

Each tick of the hand

Only encourages my ponder.

Why do I feel

As though there is something unsaid?

Why can I not sleep

When I lay in my bed?

Is there someone

Who knows how I feel?

To find out this information

With the devil I will deal.

Knots untied

Are like words not spoken.

Roads never taken,

Are as old as new things broken.

Am I making sense

To you, or you, or you?

Or do these words have meaning?

I truly believe they do.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

How the clock pounds in my mind.

How much I hate the sound,

And with my mind I combine.

The clock may be the problem

That I have been trying to find.

Or maybe it's the answer,

Obviousness is unkind.

So unsure I am,

And eager to blame all.

So what is my problem?

I guess it's all your call.

Knowing my daughter as I did, I feel like this poem is showing her frustration not only with herself, but her life in general. Nichole struggled with insecurities from her teen years, until about a year before her death. It broke my heart to watch her struggle so much. Myself and her loved ones constantly told her how beautiful she was and how smart she was, but she didn't believe us. I always encouraged her to do what she loved, and I would tell her there was nothing she couldn't do if she put her mind to it.

The constant negativity she received from her abusive boyfriend was so strong and so drilled into her head that she lost confidence in herself.

Please if you are in an abusive relationship, seek help. If someone truly loves you, they build you up not knock you down.

I hope you can talk to your parents, but if you can't perhaps you can turn to a friend or a different family member. I can tell you from a Mother's perspective, there is nothing a mother would not do for her child. If you think she isn't listening, or she doesn't understand, keep talking to her (or your Father) until you have their attention. Once you have their attention, explain to them what your going through and keep explaining it until they "get it".

 I am not a therapist, just a Mother that wishes her daughter would have talked to her about how she felt.

I would be interested in hearing what you think her poem is saying. If you found yourself relating to this poem, please take a moment to vote. I will post two more of her poems on Friday.