Small Deaths

i’ve never felt quite right

wrapped in confusion at the

perceived motivations around me

never really a direction

but displacement from the things

and the ways in which

i found myself incapable of

fitting into the mold

at times like a goldilocks

trying this and trying that

one thing to the next and

back again, nothing fit, no

comfort beyond the temporary

consumption of what they say

what i need, what i should do

and how i should be

again and again lumping myself

into the space they carved out

for me, cutting away the

frowned upon pieces, chunk

by pathetic chunk, but it was never

enough, for the space always

seemed to morph tighter and tighter

with each small death and

the constraining, choking of words

that no one seemed to understand

and it’s true, they’ve broken me

more than once, but it was never

enough, not for them, and not for me


  1. Wow, River, I could have written this. Except I couldn’t, of course, because I’m no poet, but you put what many of us feel into fabulously searing verse. There’s something very wrong with a world that makes people feel like that though, and that needed saying.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I felt all of this, yet when I look at you I don’t see brokenness. I see scaffolding over the masterpiece of your perfect, beautiful soul. Yet even though I believe that about you, and me, I still can’t help walking into the darkness to feel that familiar brokenness again. Maybe it’s an obsession, the way Dickinson was obsessed with Death. No answers, but I enjoy thinking about it. I hope you don’t mind the musing comment on your gorgeous poem, River. ♥.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Man oh man. Totally there. Some days, of course, are ‘worse’ than others. For me, the key is overcoming the lies. Those lies we tell ourselves when being abused and helpless and trying to make *logical sense* of WHY is this happening?? But those conclusions are hardly right. Those conclusions come through the lens of misuse and abuse, not reality. So, the ingrained overlays every new thought and emotion. ~sigh~ And now… to overcome the small deaths and LIVE in truth.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. Reblogged this on Citizen Tom and commented:
    Why did I reblog this poem? It is a poetic version of the last thing I posted,

    In that last post, we discussed how people build Utopian ideologies to mold the minds and hearts of entire societies. When we do that to other people, even on a small scale, we break them, and we mangle ourselves. We know it is prideful and wrong.

    When we allow others to manipulate us into beliefs and deeds we find wrong, we must sear our own consciences. In our cowardice and submission we tempt our tempters towards greater evil.

    What is the solution? Well, the Bible offers its wisdom.

    Romans 12:2 New American Standard Bible

    And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.

    If you are not Christian. Well, God put his moral law in each of our hearts. We know — at least we know until we have seared our consciences — something about what is right and what is wrong.

    If you are a Christian? Then we have the Bible. We can read and study it. We can do our best to go beyond that moral law that God instilled within each of our hearts. Instead of pleasing the world, we can strive to please our Lord God.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. I’m a misfit because I don’t even try to fit in. I don’t want fracture my wholeness in the process of fitting myself into the mold fashioned by the schizophrenic consumerist society. And it’s an honor to be able to resist the temptation to be a conformist. The originality comes under the disguise of “eccentricity”, the rare traits of geniuses that the parents and teachers will suppress bytheir programming.

    Liked by 4 people

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