For my three submissions, I chose the poems that best showed the progression of my healing journey.  My first selection, "The Symptoms", was one of my first works.  I was only in grade seven, and yet as a result of my abuse, I had a distorted view of love and felt my value was a direct result of  whether or not a member of the opposite sex loved and valued me.  Rejection is devastating to a co-dependant.  My second selection, "The Victim", came as a result of the conflict and confusion that comes with effective councelling.  This poem arose from my learning to define my feelings and views of the world around me, and the changes I was making to those views of the world and my feelings so that I might learn to stop coping and start living.  My final submission, "It's My Turn", came as a result of my learning how to move out of fear, and to set and enforce personal boundaries.  I have since moved into a gentler, happier, more balanced way of being, but as my poetry seems to only be inspired by intense emotions, I have no poem to reflect this.  I hope you enjoy them. 
Sincerely, Denise Wright.
The Symptoms


I sit here all alone
In the darkness of the night
Loneliness slowly closing in
Like some giant fatal plight

My efforts gone unnoticed
My feelings worth nothing
While from the man I love
The romance slowly dying

One last fight to win him back
A betrayal from a friend
And before the fight is over
I know I've reached my end

There's no hope left for me
And so the battle's lost
In worthlessness and despair
I finally face the cost

He was my life and all I had
I've now no reason to live
And walking to the bathroom
I can feel my spirit give

Frantically searching for pills
I open up the door
Then in grim satisfaction
I slump down to the floor

My skin as cold as ice
My body-weight like lead
A doctor sadly saying
"I'm sorry, your daughter''s dead

"You say the drugs they killed her
But they only played a part.
For this is a classic case of death
Caused by a broken heart
The Victim

I live in a world of confusion
My savior is my nemesis
My abuser:  my friend
A land where there is strength in numbers
A land where numbers don't make you safe

I live in a world of conficts
I scream out in anger yet am strangely silenced
I cry out in anguish yet feel no pain
I shed tears but my well is dry
I comfort others but am not comforted

I live in a world of crisis
I am a dreamer, but I fear my dreams
I am ambitious yet I have no motivation
I live for tomorrow but am dominated by yesterday
I am the dominating adult, yet I'm the terrified child.

I live in the world of the abused.
It's My Turn

You've used me
And abused me,
Manipulated and debased me.

You took me for granted.
You raved and you ranted,
Disgusted with the way you raised me.

Well guess what baby,
I'm coming after you.
Yah, it's my turn,
And it's time you learn something new.

So you thought you'd always be bigger.
So you loved to sneer and snicker.
Well, now you're the one who's small,
And you're learning that after all,
That I'm the one with the last laugh.

It's time to look over your shoulder.
Yah, it's time for you to quake.
'Cause I'm here, and I'm pissed,
And I'm gonna make you ache.

'Cause I'm the strong one now;
It's your turn to live in fear.
Now remember to be a man...
And don't you shed a tear.
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