The Shine Journal

 

 

Shattered Glass

 

 

 

When I hurt, my feelings crumble into pieces, spread all out in thousands different shapes not one every the same my heart breaks with words that cut like a knife, band aids soak the blood others cause me to bleed, judging me on my wrong doings, forgetting I am not perfect.  I myself am only human as well as you.  You all claim to be my friend, so where are you when I need a hand, when I need to be checked and put in my place?  That’s what I mean.

 

Shattered glass everyone goes their separate ways afraid to be a bigger person and help a friend out.  We all shake our heads and talk mess about others, pin point who is phony, who is not when the real question is who is real? 

 

Real to me is shattered glass, what you see is what you get; you break me I cut, understand me, be patience with me, give me a chance to grow and learn from my mistakes.  I’m tired of shattering on the floor and bleeding for all the wrong reasons. 

 

I want to be a pretty shaped window with no cracks in it, no more fragments from a shattered glass.

 

 

 

Just Me

 

 

 

Surrounded so much hatred and envy... why? I don’t know - maybe because it’s just me.

 

Looking out the windows with no view or scenery on the other side, pictures on walls with no meaning, paint just splattered with signatures in the corner just to claim fame... why? I don’t know - maybe because it’s just me.

 

Magazines with styles that will never be rocked.  Newspapers with ads that will never get answered pen with no ink, pencils with broken lead that need to be sharpened... why? I don’t know - maybe because it’s just me.

 

Words that have no meanings, voices with no sounds, tears without salt, pain that has no hurt, breathing with no air, thunderstorms without the rain, basically a rainbow with no color... why? I don’t know - maybe because it’s just me.

 

Caramel complexion, 5’7, 184 pounds, a mother of four, used and abused, mentally, physically as well as emotionally.  Raised in the hood by a single parent who gave me motherhood, the best she could.  Never once did I question my mother, all I did was wonder and hope for the best.  Now I’m stuck with curiosity. 

 

Was life meant this way just for me?

 

 

 

 

Trapped Inside

 

 

 

Mind, Body, and Soul. I’ve been given a sentence, four walls, desk, chair and a small window is all I own.  My identification is 102637 also known as a successful scan.  Those who know me know me well and those who don’t can forget it.

 

Rec decks, used to communicate to others pods or even a dance - a - thon.  Hot 93.7 tell me why you’re mad.  Phone calls that are being recorded whenever they work.  Outside track yeah give me a break.  Are they really serious? They call these privileges.

 

Everyday the same old tiring outfits, walks that end up only at the same places like the chow hall, medical, school, programs. The only real excitement is movement to 1-B.  You go out with a bang; camera, handcuffs and shackles and all your peers calm.  They love you on your way out.

 

Visits with your loved ones twice a week: smiles, tears, stories about the outside world.  Reminiscing about old times, sharing secrets that have never been told enjoying the smell of Newports on your visitor's breath.  Times up. An hour has gone by so fast.

 

Mind, body and soul.  I gave them what I owe them, now I am here to say I am no longer trapped in.  Yeah it’s me Peggie no more, controlling me.  As far as badges go, successful scans and classification board I am no longer yours, I’m me. I’m free.  Trapped in and paid for all my sins.

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Bio: PEGGIE BRITTON is a survivor, learning to accept things for what they're worth.

 

Motivation:  Sharing, emotions released.