I have been her

I have been her
Lost in a crowd
wide eyed, pupils dilated
Stumbling in the smoke
drifting in the heady air
And the thud, thud, thud
Of speakers, in the night

As bodies move
With chemical energy
not of their own skin
not of their own mind

Yes, I have been her

Lost in the small hours
pushing past shoulders
Bumping into arms
Tripping over feet

“Are yer alright love?”
“Why dunt yer sit darn wi me”
“Al look after yer’

Eyelids half closed, trying to focus
Staring at the sky, spinning in circles

A strange room, a strange bed
A stranger’s words, a voice unknown

“Al look after yer”
“Al look after yer”

“Nah she’s rubbish mate”

pushing, pushing, pushing
In a soulless chasm
Depraved human nature.

She is sickened by them.

She wakes alone
Unbrushed teeth
Unwashed hair
Dirty fingernails
Bare feet

Rolling a cigarette
Sitting on the back step
Of an unknown terraced house
It looks the same as all the others
But something is different today

With shaking fingers she pulls at her hair
Whose hands have been here?
Did she really agree to this?
Why care when whatever was precious
Was taken long ago.
She had no choice, did she.

And whatever makes the pain go away
Leads her back to this place
Wide eyed, pupils dilated,
Lost in a crowd
Anything to forget

The person who took that thing most precious
Has no idea of the magnitude
Of damage they caused
Do they?

A girl who loses herself, just to forget
A girl whose eyes are vacant and hollow
Drifting through a crowd, stumbling in the smoke.

A girl who wakes up and blames herself
Doesn’t know she deserves to be treated
With more respect.
13 years later.
She has a choice, doesn’t she?
She doesn’t have to get herself in these situations.

And it’s easier to say ‘her’
Isn’t it…
Than to say ‘me



      1. I worked in therapeutic residential care, staff, manager up to operations director, then independent consultant. Now I’m starting something new if I can, early stages but want to do more direct work and get out of management, strategic stuff etc. That’s where my heart is, working and helping those going through trauma of any kind. I think your writing is great, honest and raw. x

        Liked by 1 person

      1. See how today goes. Just had coffee to get things going. All cylinders firing now. Can only be grateful every day that my life was saved for reasons I may never understand. Can only give back in service. Bless you

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Your courage is unreal. The last two lines are in your face truth. I also liked:

    “And whatever makes the pain go away
    Leads her back to this place”

    You’ve said so damn much. My favorite by far. Write on!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. This is quite simply BRILLIANT.
    Okay so now I know why you and I click.
    I lived in England a lot of my life. I didn’t live in the North but I always ALWAYS liked Northerners so much it was a sympatico (or however you spell that word!).
    Second – also an introvert and empath (avoidance empath mind you!) and so … I get it.
    What a wordsmith you are girl. And in your tender thirties no less? I hope you NEVER stop writing.
    This is how I often felt when I was scared. I was afraid that I would ‘end my days’ living in a council house (not that I’m knocking them because they’re actually far roomier than the poxy private bed-sit hell holes I mostly holed up in) it’s more this pervading fear of being in a small enclosed space alone in a big estate full of people and noise the worst case scenario not the best, and so I totally get this. I read Brick Lane and that sort of drove it home a bit but this really does. It’s that picture in our heads we carry around with us.
    You’ve really brought that feeling to light so viserally I bow to you sister of the poem xo


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