Carnage
Again I sing my cheerful song
What can I control today
I’ll sort the books, I’ll file the files
Pretend that nothing’s wrong But then my bubble bursts
My illusion of contented control disappears
And I dissolve in tears
Confusion and helpless rage But still I sort, still I file
Cheeks wet and makeup streaming
My friends wondering why I act so oddly
Strangely knowing better than I do that it’s time for me to rest
Once in awhile I do I tell myself “it’s done, I’m better, I won’t be there again”
I know I’m stable now, I haven’t wanted to die
For at least a week—or was it yesterday?
And then a nightmare comes, a lonely scream.
If I wait to face the demon in my dreams, I face it alone.
My mother’s in my bed again, I throw her off repulsed
And scream until my voice is gone and run and then
Awake with my beloved—that is you, thank God!
I feel your face for whiskers—can I be sure it’s really you
And not that sickening monster who spawned me?
But where is my cheerful song now?
When do I get to control my life again?
When can I get back to life rather than being
the prisoner of my own racking sobs
When can I run away again?
-Moira Breen 1988*
