Faces of a Diamond

Poetry is like a diamond,
beautiful and mysterious.
Everytime you look,
you see something different.
Each new face
reflects something of yourself.

and it is beautiful.

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The House

There is a darkness
In my soul.
It cannot be healed.

There is in my heart
A hole
That cannot be filled.

There is a man
Not under control
A man who cannot be killed.


Is he a man or a boy?
Perhaps a man in a boy’s body.
Or a boy in a man’s body.
Just because he’s discovered
the age old secret
Does not make him a man.
It does not make him innocent either.
He has done wrong.
By himself.
By his family.
By me.
But I cannot retaliate
Lest the family come after me.

The family is broken.
Not to be healed.
There is no communion
Or sharing of thoughts.
There is no group.
Only fragments and shards.
What once reflected a whole image,
Now shows only a spiderweb,
Like those found in an abandoned building

The family, too, is an abandoned building.
A structure that stands
only on the outside,
But has caved and rotted away
from within.
And yet they cannot remove him,
Because he is a pillar of the house.
Perhaps not the biggest pillar,
But a pillar nonetheless.
And to turn on him
Would be to collapse
the brittle structure.
He is a strong pillar.
Perhaps one day
he will raise up
a new house.
To cut him down now
Would be the end of him.

But he is infected with termites,
and it is through him that the house
Came to crumble.
It is through him
That the third pillar fell.
Yet the house will not see him cut,
For the termites can be smoked out
And the integrity restored.
It is too late
For the third pillar though.

And the house will never be the same.

Tagged: The HouseFaces of a Diamondtorn familiesabuseinability to turn someone in



I am afraid of driving.
So much so that I learned to fly
before I learned to drive.
I always thought that everyone would,
given the chance.

In order to drive,
you must trust
that the people around you,
know and will respect,
the rules of the road.
You must trust that the person in front
and behind you
will not go too fast,
or too slow.
And that they will look
before crossing into your lane.
You have to understand
that a car
is a monster
that only you can control.

But there are those who don’t.
They let their monster loose
and people get hurt.
People die.
Sometimes even the driver gets killed.
Is that justice for their wrong?
Is that some last attempt
to punish them for hurting others?
And even that does not deter them.
The ones who get drunk:
on alcohol,
on drugs,
on rage,
on lust.
Or those who simply do not care enough
to protect you.
They throw their weight around
or play mind games with you
and all you can do
is try to stay on the road.
But even then
they give you dings
and scratches
and scars that will never heal.

I prefer to fly.
There are few people in the sky.
And everyone knows
that if they screw up,
there is no turning back.
They are more careful.
More courteous.

There is freedom in the sky.
No one blocking your way
or skulking behind you
or holding you from below
or pinning you from above.
You can move about without being bothered.
And nobody will hurt you in the sky.

But society forces us to drive.
It keeps us grounded
and does not give us
the freedom to choose
on a daily basis.
You cannot get from one point to another
in a plane
as you can in a car.
In order to get around,
you have to drive.
And thus,

You have to trust.

Tagged: TrustFaces of a DiamondPTSDrapesexual assaultrecoverydissociation



I got in the shower,
the lights on and the fan running.
Maybe I’m running too.
I can’t bear to be in the dark anymore,
and I needed sound to drown out my tears.
The water was hot,
scalding even.
I turned it on just past the point
where I couldn’t take it anymore.
I wanted it to burn.
To burn away the memories
of his hands on me
of his body against mine.
I felt that if I scrubbed hard enough,
I could be clean.
But nothing can remove the filth
that has gathered within my soul.

I gathered up my headphones,
and turned the music as loud as it would go,
playing the darkest, hardest songs I had.
I thought that if I could drown out
the sound of his voice,
of his breathing,
of the soft noises he made,
I could be free.
But my silent screams had always been
only within my head,
and no one could hear them but me.
No matter how loud the music,
nothing could drown out that awful sound.

I curled under my sweater,
the one I had gotten,
because it was the same as my protector.
He had always been there for me,
and to have that sweater,
was to have him with me.
I had even found a way
to match his scent,
because that scent had always
felt like home to me.
It was a scent that spoke
of cleanliness,
of warmth,
of protection.
But even that could not help me,
because I could never tell him
what had happened.
And he could never have saved me
from the one who did this.

I buried myself,
under the blankets in my bed.
Curled into a tight fetal position.
I had felt that being in a ball
would keep me safe.
That if I had presented
a smaller target,
I would not be seen,
and would not be hurt.
But I had been wrong,
and my exposed back
had been all the weakness he’d needed.

I fell into the TV,
and to books,
hoping that if I lived life
through others
or at least watched
something better,
that I could un-see
what had been seen.
But the memories would not leave me,
and no matter what I saw
or read,
I could not get the images
from my mind.

I turned to God,
praying that he would release me
from what had happened.
But release did not come,
and I felt more alone
with each passing day.
I felt betrayed,
and angry,
and hurt.
And my faith dwindled
and died.
Perhaps He ignores me
because I am a sinner.
Perhaps it was my fault,
and I deserve nothing better.
Perhaps I dug
My own grave.

I cannot be clean.
In mind,
in sight,
in body,
or in spirit.
I cannot be free.
Yet all I want is to be free.

Tagged: CleansingpoetryFaces of a DiamondPTSDrapesexual assault

No More

To be, or not to be, that is the question—

Whether ‘tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die, to sleep—…

…To sleep, perchance to Dream

Nay, nothing is sweeter

than the kiss of steel

against the furrowed brow of pain and horror.

or against the blackened muscle

which beats out terror and flight.

Would that there could have been flight.

Yet there he stands,

amidst nightmares and memories,

always winning out against the feeble struggle.

And there lies the center of the thing.

To die,

to sleep,

the dreamless sleep of long sought freedom.

The open door that once stepped through,

cannot again be opened.

That is the fork in the road that has opened before me.

If only there was some wind

to whisper the words of encouragement

towards one,

or the other.

But upon that wind would ride also

the shadows of night,

the harbingers of misery and sorrow

for what can never be regained.


that fleeting bird that sits upon the shoulder

of every child,

has long since flown from mine.

I am but an empty shell.

And so I crumple inward

and am blown along the darker path.

To be,

or be no more.

Tagged: No Morerapesexual assaultpoetryShakespeareFaces of a Diamond



I am a slave. 
Shackled to a choice 
I must make every day. 

I live under the stupor of one
Or in the shadow of the other:
a darkness that banishes life itself. 

I can be as a tree. 
Dull. Emotionless.
But alive. 

Or I can be free,
blissfully alive for a few sweet moments,
then collapse under my own weight
and be no more. 

Is it better to feel
and to be a part of creation
for only the briefest time?

Or to merely exist,
trudging through each day,
heedless of the world.

I want to experience happiness:
that beautiful glimmer 
of hope
and love. 

Even the pain is gratifying 
in its own right.
It reminds me that I am alive,
if only for a short time. 

But as always on that path,
Death comes calling. 

Then the paths get forced together,
And for a time I walk 
with one foot in each.

Eventually I am made to take
the lesser road. 
And I struggle to see the point 
in continuing
when all is gray 
and lifeless. 
It is difficult to see the light,
more still to fight the dark. 

How can I live
like this?
This is not life. 
This is existence. 
And a poor excuse for it. 

Would that I could be free.

Tagged: Faces of a DiamondslaverymedicationPTSDsuicidedepressiondissociation



The walls are closing in.
The gate is coming down.
He dark is inching towards me
And creeping in my mind.

I cannot find my way.
The path is long since lost.
I’m clawing at the shadows,
Cannot see the road.

Where do I go from here?
I struggle to be free.
The loneliness is crushing,
The fear of people, worse.

Am I to be trapped here
For forever and a day?
Or will I find the courage
To escape the teeth of terror.

For now I curl under the blankets,
Too afraid to leave.
For now I stay indoors
Unable to face the world.

Tagged: ptsdfearpoetryFaces of a Diamondpersonal



when i see a brand new baby…
i look at them
and can no longer trust my voice
because i get filled with
such happiness
upon seeing them
that all i can do is laugh.
all i can do is smile.
it feels as though there is a balloon
welling up under my ribcage,
forcing my lungs to expand,
forcing me to let go,
to laugh…

all i can do is laugh
babies, infants, children and toddlers…
they make me so happy, so excited, so overjoyed.
their innocence makes up for all the wrongs in the world
they make my day
i love children

Tagged: ChildrenFaces of a Diamondfamilyhappiness

Winter’s Come Back for an Encore

Winter’s come back for an encore
It decided that spring is a bore
And now it’s decided to snow on us
And sleet and rain just because…

Tagged: Winter's Come Back for an EncoreFaces of a Diamondwinterseasons



The moonlight reaches out,
brushing against different surfaces,
with long, tentative fingers,
with pale , searching fingers,
bathing the night with a pallid glow.

The light touches upon the ground,
trailing a cool finger in the dust,
with bright, illuminating rays,
with cold, defined rays,
filling the night with stark luminescence.

The face of the moon smiles on us,
shining icy rays to guide our path,
with gentle, guiding hands,
with open, helping hands,
giving purpose to our strides.

Tagged: MoonlitFaces of a Diamond

I wrote a book!

you should buy one! 

Tagged: bookpersonalWindow to the Soul