My Story To Tell: a Poem

There’s this girl you haven’t met before, and I’d like to tell her tale,

This girl, you may have seen her, but you do not know her story. 

So listen now, and listen close, to hear this tale told. 

 

Once a time ago, she was the princess of her world.

Once a time ago, she had the perfect pristine life. 

Once a time ago, she knew naive happiness.

Once, a time ago, before she lost everything. 

 

Then one night, (it was stormy of course), it was all ripped away. 

Her family destroyed, her friends lost, her life ruined. 

With that her mind plummeted, falling easy prey to the monsters lurking in the shadows. 

As she fell, they clawed at her psyche, leaving irreparable scars. 

 

The terrors she thought and the horrors she committed, 

left scars on her that mirrored the monsters’. 

They have many names, but she labeled them: 

The Red Siren, the Demon, a nasty Flame, and the Jabberwocky. 

 

Those are the names she curses under her breath, but never speaks. 

Those are the creatures she hides far from the light.

Those are the monsters she hates for their mutilations, 

But, she would dutifully hide them, never letting anyone in.

 

Covering up the disfigurement, she never forgot it,

Hiding them from all, she would never be free. 

Those scars chained her to earth,

And her shame fed the monsters preying.

 

The stronger the monsters, the stronger the chains, 

And as they grew, she lost her mind to madness. 

But she hid them easily, never letting you in. 

For all you see is the Red Siren’s facade. 

 

As she covered the chains, the lies abounded. 

“I’m fine” became a cry to relief, and a smile code for save me-

The pain became joy, and well, her life became pain. 

Her Strength fought for survival while her brain accepted the monsters’ rule. 

 

Her lies amassed and Truth collected dust. 

She believed the lies told, and in turn, spread her own,

From, “you’ll never be whole,” to “my day has been great.”

The monsters started to deceive her. 

 

The things she knew were true: 

The Jabberwocky would never give her peace,

The Demon would yell to hurry up and do nothing,

The nasty Flame would convince her she was ruined,

And The Red Siren would sing her to sleep. 

 

Her mask became her fortress, her solitude;

Her scars were tattoos of a liar. 

Strength grew to fight the Jabberwocky, 

as the others took advantage. 

But deep in the shadows, another, voiceless, faceless, lingered. 

And when her back was turned, it struck. 

 

At this, she became a victim,

Of the lies, of the monsters, and, she thought, of the truth. 

So she learned the lies: what to speak, how to laugh, when to smile,

And each repetition solidified the shackles…

 

But this was the hardest battle, for

how do you fight something you never knew is there? 

It lurked in her shadows, in her lies,

While Strength battled for survival, 

It crept into her heart, whispering voiceless. 

 

And how do you hear a shadow or see something that doesn’t exist?

How do you survive when every echo claims you a victim?

How do you win when every day you lose a little?

But with everything on the line, how do you afford to lose?

 

The girl never knew to ask those questions,

So It chipped away at her unguarded sanity,

as she hid behind the lies. 

‘Till one day, she noticed an absence of

something— a spark perhaps—

 

She realized that she was missing, shattered on the floor. 

But this was not the work of familiar monsters.

Unseen, unheard, she had not recognized it. 

But now she saw a fifth horror, titled “Unnamed”.

 

Unnamed convinced her she was a victim of truth and lies would save her. 

Unnamed convinced her that words would fail her and she would be alone. 

Unnamed convinced her there was no salvation coming. 

Unable to define it, she chose to believe it. 

 

And with 5 against 1, how would you win?

With 5 against 1, how could she hope?

With 5 against 1, she became a victim. 

But 5 against 1 was a deception. 

 

In all her struggles, she had lost much. 

As all her monsters demolished and destroyed, 

There was one thing they could never annihilate. 

She had a forgotten gift, buried under the wreckage. 

 

As she fought a losing battle and her Strength wavered,

She remembered her gift of Hope, kept in Pandora’s box, 

The jar was shattered, but her Hope remained. 

 

She stepped carefully over the remnants,

searching for her gift, pulling it out,

And when she touched it, she knew.

 

She was a survivor, not a victim, of her monsters. 

 

The gifter of her Hope would be back, 

but Hope would pull her through. 

She knew she was brave to fight every day, 

And eventually the monsters would lose. 

 

This was the day, you see, when she knew her name. 

It was not Fear or Lies or even Victim. No. 

It was Brave Hope, Survivor and Saved. 

It was a title she could wear with pride, till the battle was won. 

 

Now perhaps, you understand why her smiles changed. 

Now perhaps, you can battle your own monsters to find your name.

Now perhaps, you know the one thing they can not take—

For we are survivors, not victims of our pain. 

 

If you have felt hopeless or lost, please reach out to get help. There is hope, and from experience, things do improve. Reach out, talk to people and ask for help. You can do this. 

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255