This is a poem I wrote not too long after being attacked. I hadn’t understood that my urge to get away from life at that time was a very true response to deep trauma…that realisation would come MANY years later.

Dreaming

Don’t know where I’m going,
Don’t know where I’ve been,
Can’t remember what I’ve learnt,
or recall what I’ve seen;
Drifting through time,
no feet on the ground,
searching for something
-though nothing was found.
Got the imagination
-but no concentration,
Have inspiration
-no motivation.
Live in my world
ideal, full of dreams;
meanings are hidden,
not as it seems.
Locked away from society,
reality far away;
-I know that it’s there
to encounter one day.
Don’t want to face it,
it hurts, what I see.
All the pain and the killing
-why can’t things just ‘be’?
Countries ruled by maniacs,
Power-hungry robots
Principles mean nothing
Slaughter never stops.
No conscience, no empathy,
no help and no care
Money means everything
-money’s unfair.
It pulls the strings
it makes the rules,
the government follows,
robotic, blind, fools.
The pain goes unchallenged,
the suffering unseen,
no-one cares about the killing
in the money/power machine.
I see all these things
that I can not accept
I stay apart from it all
that life I reject.
You have no worth,
in your own eyes at all,
if you just sit and watch
all those slaughtered fall,
when you are a person
who can feel what they feel,
from the pain and the torment,
to the other man’s hell.
That is why I’m a dreamer,
-it’s self-preservation
I’ve seen enough death,
hate and starvation.
I’ll live in an ideal world,
inside my mind
and not associate again
with the hate of mankind

by Kathrin Atkinson

[date approx. i was about 17]


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