Can you believe it's October already?! Surely, it was only Pancake Day last week, or something... Mind you, this is me we're talking about; every day is Pancake Day.
With the start of this month, comes two challenges that creative types often like to get involved with - Inktober and Blogtober. Now, I have no real talent when it comes to drawing or painting. If you don't believe me, you should check out Craftastrophe, the new drunk craft channel (yes, you read that right) that I share with my amazing friend Lesley, who has artistic talent in spades. In fact, you should just check that out anyway, because it's hilarious, even if I do say so myself...
Blogtober, you might think, would be much more me. And yet, each year, I studiously avoid taking part. It's not because I don't love writing. It's more that I'm notoriously picky about what I write on this blog. I enjoy going off on a big old rant, but if I found something to be angry about every day in October, I feel like I'd end the month with a massive coronary. I also enjoy baring my soul a bit and sharing experiences from my life, here. It helps me to untangle my thoughts and it stops me internalising everything if I've made myself write it down, instead. There's also a part of me that knows I've been helped by other people - total strangers - who've written about their experiences and, in doing so, have inadvertently made me feel less alone in whatever I'm going through. Why wouldn't I want to be the stranger who helps someone else?! So, I do like the whole "I wear my heart on my sleeve - or rather my blog," thing. But if I was to share personal thoughts every day for a month, I feel like I'd reach the point where I'd reveal something I really should keep secret.
With all that in mind, I figured this would be another year in which both challenges passed me by. That is, until the aforementioned Lesley - fabulously talented artist and generally awesome human, remember?! - suggested I use the Inktober prompts to inspire me to write something every day. It could be a short story, a poem, an essay, it doesn't matter, as long as it's linked to the prompts.
And that, my friends, is exactly what I'm going to do. Preamble over, let's get cracking...
You don't notice it at first.
A verbal cut delivered with a smile,
It leaves no scar on show.
But somewhere inside,
Those words are stored.
Drip, drip, drip.
It's just a joke, they insist.
Someone so close would never do you harm.
You tell yourself to laugh;
Aim your frustration
Squarely at yourself.
Drip, drip, drip.
You get things wrong too often;
Why don't you stop and think before you act?
Guilt gnaws at your stomach.
Why does anyone
Put up with you?
Drip, drip, drip.
You deserve the pain you feel.
Anger, a bullet with your own name on.
Poison flows through your veins,
Yet you barely
Felt the needle stab.
Drip, drip, drip.
Who were you before all this?
Why did they ever want you in their life?
What made you change so much?
The answer,
An antidote.
Drip... Drip...
The veil lifts and you see clear.
A ball of clay, you were moulded anew.
Smooth surface picked open,
And you crumbled
Into dust.
Drip... Drip...
And so the strings must be cut.
Now you must rise from flames you did not light.
Don't walk away; you run.
And search until
You find yourself.
Drip... Drip...
...Stop.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Drop me a line!
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.