The Fight

If you will not fight for right when you can easily win without blood shed; if you will not fight when your victory is sure and not too costly; you may come to the moment when you will have to fight with all the odds against you and only a precarious chance of survival. There may even be a worse case. You may have to fight when there is no hope of victory, because it is better to perish than to live as slaves.– Winston Churchill

I wish I could breathe these words into the hearts of every lost stranger that anorexia will taunt. I wish I could paint them over the walls of a bi-polared soul and plead them to come back together, sink my teeth into the fists of the depression and provoke the Fight from their souls.

I wish I wish I wish it wasn’t too late for me, and I was not fighting the cause while already grieving for the loss.

I wish we could all Fight. Today.

chains

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resentful

Life is hard.

                 really hard.

Made even harder by the fact that I feel terrible guilt for saying so , like i am not appreciating the gift of motherhood and complaining about the life lived with the children I love, Like some criminal mother who burns her babies with cigarette butts. 

 

Im not a bad mother. I know im not. But ….. there are times when I’m standing there in a overcrowded supermarket , in a line 15 odd trolleys long with a child that has grizzled since the car ride there, and inhabited my new handbag with crumbs and raisins ….. I feel Tired, Sticky and a little

a little

…. Resentful. 

 

and it makes me feel like a bad mother. 

 

and that makes me want starvation’s cold hand to shield me through the day. 

My Darling Noah …

Can I be alone yet be with you

I want it all and I crave,  yet I scream

Don’t be far but be Gone – not near me.

But hold me dearly

Shelter my soul

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I’ll look after you after I kill you

I’ll kiss you cheeks while suffocating your lungs

With you in mind I’ll pray for justice

With you in mind I’ll be criminal for thee.

Can I be alone yet be with you

Could it be that I long to be dead?

Be a memory, consume life, be nothing

But hold me dearly

Shelter my soul.

Sian Alexia.

I wrote this some time ago ….as I see looking down. Down, up, today, yesterday …  crazy how some things just keep re-applying themselves to my life. Maybe I never truly change. I am the same, still embracing sadness like mine own rock.

Once wrote for my mother , I could now scream to my son.

whoever it was who once told me grief  was a temporary state                      you lied.