My pens were quick to slaughter
words you soullessly declared.
That I wasn't your daughter,
and that you no longer cared.
But I feel safest in this printed tomb
of tea stained thoughts and rhymes,
and I have sixty something readers
that wouldn't bury me alive.
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ReplyDeleteCount me in on those who will stand next to you, fearlessly facing soulless beings who dare to try to minimize your importance in this world.
ReplyDeletewow. i've been following your blog for some time now and what is most surprising about your recent entries is how your talent has become festered with narrow-mindedness, naïveté, and ugliness. you seem to thrive on the rambling comments of those who have no true insight to what you have experienced in 19 short years. i watch from afar as loving parents did the best they could with what they had to deal with. you paint pictures with words, most often beautiful and eloquent. however, your words about your father, whom has given everything he has for your benefit, show the world that you are blind with anger and fear. diaries or journals are the tools for these tender feelings...they can be documented and then used for reflection. but you choose the cowards way of publically displaying your innermost thoughts in blog. how disappointing and sad. i post anon because, i too - like another follower of yours - do not want to become fodder for your "creative abuse." i believe you would be heartbroken if i were to reveal my true identity, but it fear it would not matter as you are too consumed to see anything else.
ReplyDeleteI don't think that a public display of true pain is in any way cowardly. What is narrow-minded is this obsession with keeping sensitivity and honesty hidden away in clandestine journals. I may not know exactly what it is that you are going through, but neither does this observer who acknowledges that they have watched from afar. There are just some feelings that are universal, and awful. If we don't share, insane introspection is our only companion.
ReplyDeleteDear Anonymous,
ReplyDeleteFew have insight into my nineteen years, as the abuse I witnessed was, as often is, kept silent. Denied by those who should have stopped it, and denied even now by whom it was inflicted. If you have been following my penmanship for an extended time, you must know that I write what I feel. I'm not about to hide my thoughts in a journal to reflect on at a later time. This blog IS my journal.
The mask you hide behind as my "friend" or "loved one" is no different than the anonymity you hide behind on this page. It is not honest. If it is powered by fear of truth or threat of being discovered, my response would be that of regret for having believed you to be someone other than who you represented yourself to be...heartbreak for your place in the Universe, not for myself, as I have no fear of truth.
Most importantly, this page is mine to write my inner most thoughts: they are mine to display. So please, Anonymous, take your accusations to a happier blog where lies are bottled up and healing never happens, because you won't find that here.
Anon., You and your kind are the true cowards. You stand behind a mask to pick and poke and cause as much pain as possible. Leave this sweet soul alone.
ReplyDeleteMadison is a person who has a heart that is still able to love, in spite of the damage by those whose joy comes from causing pain. Your negativity and cruelness are indicators of lack of a moral compass. Madison created this blog to deal with the pain and not hide from her past. She is a hero to many of us too scared to ever voice our own pain.
You are taking on me, when you slash at her. Be prepared, for I have fought many filthy, fire-breathing dragons and I am stronger after each battle. Your hatred for the truth is all that I need to know about you--you envy the dark, lies and denial of personal history.
Madison, turn from this type of being, as they feed off the attention, while inflating their importance in the world. You're able to write all that you feel, hope and dream, for this is YOUR blog. Your life's history may be created by others, but today is yours, along with tomorrow.