I can't sleep
become a battle cry, a cri de ceour
I must sleep...
tis insidious and nasty
The night comes again and you prepare
Tonight ye think, tonight will be great
But ye still worry about the horrors....
The horrors come when a'body ELSE is asleep
and only YOU can see them
They are YOUR creatures, your own mind's inventions
They are not evil, jist there
The worst are the 'funny ones' that ne'er quieten
Ye yell at them to go awa' and let ye sleep, but still they laugh and carry on.
Suddenly you'll be in a strange place, maybe totally new
You hae nae idea why, but ye hae this feeling ye will find out...
jist as ye begin to realise, the pain pulls ye out.
Ye think, was it a dream? Only minutes hae passed
None o' the refreshment o' sleep...
I ache a'where
This cycle continues throughout the night
I feel mair and mair tired...
I wish I could but sleep....dreamless unconsciousness
Sounds sae simple.....
Is THAT it? Ye want to ken a secret?
Och'd...jist ask....but let me sleep after
please...
What do I ken?
I ken nothing and I ken a'thing
Ye hae to ask me
LET ME SLEEP though...
Voices heard, ye reply in like fashion
Appears tis gibberish
but WE ken different dont we....
Talking in tongues is easy...
Nothing in the least religious about it
Jist dinna sleep for a few days....
Welcome to Hell.
David Clarkson (scotland)
I close my eyes and drift inside
of what is me.
I drift down
into a dark sea.
A place I need to be.
To the left and the right
are doors dark as night.
All are locked
holding back the light.
I feel no pain,
only emptiness.
No beauty is here
just the echo
of a familiar refrain,
an echo from the shadow of me.
I try each door
I cannot enter
there are no keys
All memories are locked away.
No words for me to say
to get them to open.
My tears will not persuade;
not a sliver of light
to brighten my way.
I float deeper
seeking I know not what.
Meeting the one
I see as the keeper
of my dark soul.
My secrets never to be told.
I let my self go
just a little farther
to find a mirror
a reflection
that sears my soul,
the picture of me
shriveled and old.
Will I never be free?
Can I never be me?
Is this all I am?
will I ever dance
in simple joy?
Can I never feel
whole and real?
I don't want to stay here
in the well of fear.
I need a light
to guide me
back to the stars
in the night.
I need to be free.
I need to end this journey
into my soul.
Sherrie 9/3/99
A child Looks in the window
wanting that doll
she look at mom
all she hear is No
a swat on the bottom
you'rre too mmuch trouble
wanting it all.
A child comes home
report card in hand
proud that he got all B's
What is wrong with
you ? Father yells/
Your a dummie
your vey lazy
what more can I do?
The boy hangs his head in shame.
A teenager desperate for love
goes with the man
the one who remembered her name
you are so pretty
so sweet and young
nine months later
she gives bith to a son
Now what will I do
I never asked for you.
the cycle begins again
there is no end
It just hurts too muuch
Sherrie 10/14/99
children who have shed silent, lonley tears from abuse!
