The Beauty of my story: Poetry Edition, I'm Tired by Matasha Lee

I’m Tired by Matasha Lee

 

My title speaks for itself,

I’m tired.

I hardly speak of where I’ve come from, but when I do,

It is only to help someone else understand why I want to lay my head down,

Why tears out of nowhere begins to run down my face,

Why, I constantly feel like giving up,

Or, just want to lie in the bed until I feel like smiling again.

I put years into my dream and I push until my dreams are accomplished, but

The wear and tear from it, gets to me, so much so that I just want to be left alone until I feel better,

But two kids, boy and girl, Amelia and Sean, mama binky and noony, there is no way that I can slow down,

So, I secretly cry, hoping that someone would wipe away my tear and the pain would somehow,

Pass away,

But I find my own hand doing the wiping.

My arms hug me tight.

I pass the words along that I am tired, but do the passing ears, hear me?

Can they spare their space of time, so we can dine on the words of inspiration that fuels my fire to keep going?

I know under a small rock, God has hidden just enough courage, along the way, to help me keep pushing till I reach my destiny,

Until I hear, well done, again,

And I cry and sing the song, “How I got over,”

And I’m back in bed saying, I’m tired.

 

The Beauty of my story through poetry: "Tear stained pillow"-Matasha Lee

Tear Stained Pillow by Matasha Lee

 

Curious child became a wayward teen,

A wanderer in the wilderness of life,

I said my prayers then I received a phone call

To lay next to him tonight,

I let my body roam free as he made his way inside of me.

He traveled to places that made me scream.

When he finished before I felt complete,

He left me there in Room 6B as he left to do what he needed to do.

He wasn’t ready to show me off to the world.

We crept when not even the road screeched with cars.

After a while of sitting on unclean sheets regret suck in,

What am I doing to me?

Why would I treat my heart this way for a room key and one night of pain

Knowing that he is my number 6,

And there is another one I will sleep with when the pain goes away.

I lay upon the pillow, with nothing but time passing by,

I realize my potential and all the dreams I’m leaving behind for one night stands,

And tears fall like rain,

Drowning my face until I began to cough,

It chokes my pride away,

And humility hits my stomach like a knife,

Slowly pressing its way through,

Sadness erupts my mind,

Heartache after heartache,

I promise myself it will not happen again,

But yet again,

I am introduced back to my tear stain pillow,

Let the rollercoaster begin,

Round and round it goes,

Where it stops,

No one knows.

The Beauty of my story through poetry: "Puppet Master"-Matasha Lee

 

Puppet Master by Matasha Lee

 

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Step right up,

See the girl connected to strings,

Tell her to dance and she will do it,

Sing and she will sing,

What do you desire her to wear, she will change,

You don’t like the way she speaks,

She will speak differently,

She has no life of her own; her sense of direction is shot.

 

“Help me,” cries the voice of the girl,

While the crowd lets go of a huge roar,

She stares at their laughter,

Hahahahaha,

It swarms around her mind,

She knows they have no interest in seeing her for who she really is.

You can’t see me, please see me, I need your help. I’ve been performing on a string for too long. (Puppet Master yanks the string, she flips and the crowd lets go of a cheer.)

Why can’t you see me? I don’t want to dance for you. I want to see the outdoors and run in the fields, pick up a flower and smell its fragrance. Please see me.”

 

What do you want to do to her, little girl?

“Can you hold the string?”

Sure you can

Her hands move up and down as the girl pulls on it.

Speak, the little girl requests.

“Hello,” she cries tears that fall to the dirt pavement not an ear catch the sound.

The little girl pulls the string and she flops to the ground.

What is your name?

“My puppet master calls me, Hopeless.”

Hopeless that is a weird name.

Why do you desire to be on a string?

“The string is all I know. I’ve lost myself; can you help me find me?

Where did you lose yourself?

“I don’t know.”

The puppet begins to cry some more.

The crowd, now, witnesses her tears.

The arena is quiet and the puppet master isn’t happy.

What are you doing?

Pull on her, make her dance, make her sing, she obeys,

She doesn’t speak.

She want defend herself, no need to be afraid.

Oh, come on, pull the string

The puppet remains in an helpless position as the puppet master encourages the little girl to pull her strings to entertain the crowd.

The little girl looks at the crowd and then, looks back at her.

She, too, begins to cry.

She walks away and the puppet falls completely.

The puppet master attempts to make the puppet entertain but the show is no longer appealing, many exit the arena.

 

The puppet master is angry.

Silly girl, can’t you see, you’re no one,

You’re make believe,

They can’t see you,

Please believe,

You will never escape my strings,

I care for you,

Don’t you see,

I’m the one who provides all you needs.

They walk away because you don’t entertain,

And if you don’t dance,

We don’t eat.

Don’t you understand?

 

Measly puppet,

What are you good for,

The crowd is now gone.

Stay here, you’re no good to me.

I will go home.

 

The puppet obeys,

What else is she to do,

Than to lay down without a say,

She feels her eyes fill again with salty tears upon her face.

She tries to stand, but only falls, until,

The little girl returns.

I have found you.

Don’t worry,

You will be back to you in no time.

The little girl cuts the strings.

She helps the puppet to stand.

The puppet learns to walk

She begins to smile,

She sees the light upon her face.

I can feel again, thank you.

The little girl replies, “You’ve been there all along.

Now, lift your head and carry on.

Do not be afraid.”

The puppet walks to leave the arena,

She stops to turn to say,

What shall my name be called,

She replies,

I name you, Hope, today.

The Beauty of my story through poetry: "Broken Shell"-Matasha Lee

Broken Shell by Matasha Lee

 

Though I’m visibly shattered

There is a part of me that is worth keeping, looking into,

I was birthed in the deepness of the ocean and live by its shores.

I listen to the waves of life as their ripple effect graces my body.

At night I look at the billions of stars and wonder where each one can take me.

Some days I tuck away in the sand while the storms of life passes by, but I am not afraid.

I like to listen to the thunder howl,

Watch the lightning strikes,

And feel the rain upon my shell.

I use to fear the unknown of the days when the air seemed quiet.

 I wasn’t use to it not speaking to me.

In its silence, I sleep, resting my head upon God’s blanket of earth,

Wondering when the earth will speak with me again.

It is lonely sometimes because I know that others don’t always view my shell as

Unique and many days I desire to run away and gather a new one,

But it is the child that comes and admires my beauty that lets me know there is no need to escape.

I remain strong in my faith,

And learn to embrace my differences and still enjoy the life that surrounds me and its wonders that are offered to me.

The Beauty of my story through poetry: "Mama don't cry"- Matasha Lee

Mama don’t cry by Matasha Lee

I hear you weep and you have told me plenty of times that you just want to run away from it all, but you stand strong.

You endure the pain of a broken man just to see your family stay together,

While you allow the tears to drip in the car where you hide away to have a moment to yourself.

You still try to smile without a cracked face.

You still desire to help others even when no one is there to wipe your face.

And through the bitterness you try to remain,

Accepting the apologies because your children beg you to stay,

All awhile, inside, you’re hoping that the pain would just go away,

And hoping that one day the man you loved would come back and stay.

I’ve seen you driven to the point of insanity,

But even then, they couldn’t keep you down.

They tried to write you off,

But look at you now,

From the ashes of your tormented days

You’ve chosen to rise up and say,

No, I will not be defeated today.

Your bravery is worth admiring.

Your strength is worth showing to generations to come

That no matter what the world puts on you,

You can overcome.

Don’t be defeated by yesterday,

Move on into your today,

And

Mama don’t cry,

You are one of the bless ones that made it through.

You overcame your dark days,

And now, are released into the new.

 

Die Young by Matasha Lee

 

I want to die young while living free,

So many can remember my name,

Bury me in the ocean,

Let my ashes float at sea as I drift into the unknown.

Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay;

I’m here to just dance the night away,

Night after night a different man,

In the bed I will lay,

Waking up to alcohol,

Sleeping till no roosters crow,

Only waking to the shine of the stars;

“Let’s do it all over again,” my motto for life,

Free spirited, unchained, and untamed.

I run like wild horses escaping problems I have to face,

Never bothered by the world,

My brother or sister,

My fellow man or foe,

I’m here to live for me and me alone, so, let me

Oh, let me, die young.

 

Death is knocking at my door,

I scream I am ready,

It creeps in to take my soul,

But something stands in the way and blocks it,

Let me die, I scream, this is the end of my road.

Love steps in and tells me no, shows death the door.

I kick and scream for love just doesn’t understand.

I want to die, let me die.

I am ready to die, to pass away, to write my goodbyes upon my grave, to end it all,

But love ignores, wraps me up and tells me so,

There is something waiting for you out in the world,

For you must discover your purpose in life.

You are meant to be here to change many lives,

That girl that sits alone at night ready to die as young as you,

Your story will turn her around,

She will not be blue,

That young boy with no hope at all,

You will come to his rescue,

He will want to live and dance again because of you.

 

I want to live young all my days,

My dark days has changed me,

I, once, wanted to die with no sense of direction

And let my gifts be buried with me, but

Love said, no, swept through and changed me so,

I desire to write one of my last novels at 80 in a cottage

With a garden planted by my hands,

Still living wild and free

Until the heavens open up for me.

The Beauty of my story through poetry: "Mommy's Doll"-Matasha Lee

I have already posted, Mommy's Doll, on my blog, but I am reposting it for the series of poetry based on my life so far.

Mommy’s Doll by Matasha Lee

It is time to get my doll out to play:

to stroke her hair, dress her, and to play pretend.

 I comb her thick, gorgeous, charcoal black hair so she can look pretty.

 I put her hair into a ponytail,

 and apply her bows and ribbons.

 Oh, how adorable she will be for all my friends and family to see.

 Her hair is now done.

 I lay her on the bed as I pick out a dress for her to wear.

 I hang all her clothes in my closet.

 I pick out a pink floral dress with a white ribbon tied to the waistline.

 Yes, this is the one.

 I pick her up neatly.

 I do not want to mess up her hair.

 I gently put the dress upon her head and pull it down to fit.

 Fixing every part of her dress, so she can look presentable.

 I sat dolly up on the bed and look at how beautiful she is.

I pick her up, hold her, and say, "Awe, how I love you, dolly."

I place her down and walked away.

When I came back, dolly sat in the same place.

She was still perfect.

I went, looked in the mirror, and saw my perfections,

I had my hair tied in a ponytail with a ribbon streaming in my hair,

with my all pink dress on with a white bow tied in the back.

My dolly and I looked just alike.

Our clothes where neat and our hair was gently combed.

We are perfectly made.

But there is something different: my reflection is showing my scars.

Dolly is not abused like I.

I pick up a marker and draw scars upon her lifeless body.

Now, we can play pretend.

The Beauty of my story through poetry

I recently entered a poetry competition and I had to create ten pages of poetry to enter. I decided to stay on the road I am already developing with The Beauty of my story. I wrote poetry based off my life, so far, yes, you can read each poem leading up to my present day, now, how cool is that. I really put some time, effort, and consideration into it, and wanted it to be a collection of poetry that stood out, and continued to help tell my story. I hope you will enjoy it, and I will put my introduction, to it, on here.

Introduction

 

The Beauty of My Story: poetry edition

These series of poems are a reflection of my life, starting with Mommy’s Doll is an opportunity to see what I went through at a very young age. As a kid, I was abused, sent away and I wrote this poem to just show how I felt then. As you continue reading you will go into the next chapter of my life with Mama Don’t Cry. My mom went through domestic violence and other issues like a nervous breakdown, and became mentally ill. The poem speaks to the pain I saw my mom experience. Each poem will give you a chance to take a really good look inside my life, and what I had to overcome. It ends with Bookmark because my story isn’t ending but beginning. You get to see me go from a child, to a teen, a mom to having a partnership, and also to the place where I am now. Puppet Master gives you a glimpse into when I was about to give myself away. I had no sense of direction, and was just operating through life like a puppet. Dark roots are a poem I wrote to express that dark place that helped me to become rooted in life again.   I had to go through some valleys that you will hear in I’m Tired, but I will rise up in Beauty in Ashes. I am already promoting The Beauty of my Story. I desired to stay within the same theme, well, road I am already on.