Poetaster (noun): A person who writes inferior poetry
Ignorance was the first to flee
Soon all else was stripped from me
Doctor says: It’s just bad luck
Ah, so you don’t give a f*ck?
No big deal
It happens a lot
One in four
How many more?
The leaves change colour
Other kids grow bigger
New dreams are spoken
Old terrors awoken
“Next time”
Was not fine
The pregnancy thief
Led to yet more grief
Families expanding
While we still wait
Everything keeps going
Newer bumps now growing
The fire burns bright
Rage overruling
Ugly thoughts creeping in
Seeping up through the skin
“At least”
Stole any semblance of my peace
“What if?” Did no good
Robbed me of my motherhood
“Silver linings”
Fooled us into trying
But “third time lucky” was not a cinch
Just another life, cruelly pinched
Completely disarmed
The thief leaves me pleading
Though no more concessions to make
Nor hope left to take
The thief, he has won
So little remains
Walls are worn thin
Barren within
Though they are long gone
Pilfered all I had to offer
It’s me that’s stranded here
The injustice ever near
Only the fear remains
Here we are again
It feels safer to sit still
To shut out the world
To stay where we are
To not dream too far
The thief is still prowling
And my heart? It’s still howling
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Anj, this is beautiful. You really ought to write a book, full of ponderings and poetry. You’ve a knack. It was a really touching way to portray your journey, and the thoughtless responses that people make xxx
It’s great! – a ‘light’ format that communicates something very profound and powerful. Definitely a poem! xx