Written in 1994, this poem shows me really having a hard time defining self.

I could shrivel up and
Disappear into
What is this
That we, and
Struggle for?
Vain hopes are
Illusions of…
Tomorrow will
Be fucked like
My god, I am so
Of caring, of
wanting to be



About ~Drew

I am a survivor of childhood torture. Each day, I put one foot in front of the other, moving forward. To do any less would spell my own destruction. My music/poetry/prose deal with the devastating effect of this kind of abuse on a human being: me. My experiences/thoughts/ideas/misconceptions are exposed here for all to see. Here. I am lain bare, naked, hidden only be the cloak of anonymity.
This entry was posted in anger, C-PTSD, depression, poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Human

  1. Molly says:

    Ditto – I feel this poem as if it were my own – just found your blog – its awesome – I have cptsd also – lost in a world of pain. Thanks for writing/sharing – **hugs from New Zealand**

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