Shoes - A Painful Poem.

Not a happy one.

Fat. Ugly. Worthless. Freak.

These are the words that I hear every week,

They haven't been spoken, but they still have been said,

These are the voices that I hear in my head.

I once told a woman you should never make mad,

A woman wearing stilettos who could also be clad,

In a matching coat, dress, scarf, and bag,

Because even the nicest of women can be reduced to rags.

And my friend turned to me and said "What's the big catch?"

And I explained that this woman, whose shoes and coat matched,

That after days of the heels that dug into the soles of her feet,

The pain would travel up to the accelerating beat,

Of the heart that had grown bitter and twisted with age,

And if something went wrong, you could not being to gage,

When or where that foul temper would snap,

The pain from her heart beginning to rap,

On the doors to her head, begging permission to enter,

And once let in, would travel to the centre,

Of her very existence, and start to manifest,

The Brain the landlord, The Pain the foul guest,

And after a while her smile would fade,

And the shoes and scarves and bags that made,

This woman feel good would do nothing at all,

As her happiness and joy would start to fall,

Into the cavern of dread, pain and despair,

Her mind suddenly starting to gloat and glare,

At every mistake this woman had made,

Picking out insecurities, beginning to invade,

The free spirit of her mind, as she begins to cry,

Then picks up the blade and bleeds herself dry,

Because she felt helpless, insecure, defenceless and weak,

Trapped inside her own head for weeks,

And months and years, at least it fells like an age, 

The ultimate sadness that turns to rage,

As she slices and dices, and cries some more,

Three days later, the police find her body on the bathroom floor,

My friend is sat in silence, as I try to explain,

That sometimes it's not as simple as hiding the pain,

From that first thought of sadness, to carving "FREAK" into her leg,

That woman must've screamed, and cried and begged,

That her mind could have been major, instead of singing the blues,

And all that it took, was the wrong pair of shoes.

Fat. Ugly. Worthless. Freak.

These are the words that I hear every week,

They haven't been spoken, but they still have been said,

These are the voices that I hear in my head.

Author's Note

Please review, this one means a lot to me!

Reviews

[??????]

Wow I must say this was a true read I have seen this in many. You really nailed it with feelings and your rhyme was perfect:) You did awesome:)

[RibhyMay]

Thank you so much!

[??????]

Your very welcome:)

[tp340]

As a poem you need to separate it a little as it reads like a story, other wise good work

[RibhyMay]

Thank you for the feedback! Dually noted ;)

[Coyote Poetry]

A very sad ending to the story. You create a situation of abuse and struggle for the woman..
"Trapped inside her own head for weeks,
And months and years, at least it fells like an age,
The ultimate sadness that turns to rage,
As she slices and dices, and cries some more,"
Some people are pushed into a dead-end if see no hope or kindness. A strong ending to a excellent tale.
Coyote

[RibhyMay]

This is exactly what I was hoping to achieve! Much appreciated, thank you!