the art of mindbending

the life of zooey who happens to be Bipolar 2

for what it’s worth

Awhile ago, when my many-year bout of depression hit,  I struggled with self esteem constantly.  I wrote a poem about my negative-chanting IT and the images surrounding a rag doll’s journey. Not the most hopeful of poems on a Friday, but perhaps it will help others realize these sort of thoughts happen and they, too, will pass.  ~zooey

for what it’s worth

a rag doll, dropped and forgotten, under a rusted fender on an oil stained driveway
one muddy tire track decorated her back from right to left

“There you are,” the little monster said and grabbed the doll’s leg
“Hiding in plain sight I see,” as IT dragged the her behind it’s strides

the doll, face down, rubbed roughly against the concrete sidewalk
her dress above her head, her white underwear stained by a muddy puddle splash

“Gross, look at your underwear!” IT chided.
“You are never clean,” shaking ITs head in mock sadness

no one saw when a button eye, threads finally giving way,as it rolled to the grass
the doll’s one eye watched as her other slowly faded from sight

“Can’t you see what you have done to yourself?”
“Don’t you know how ugly you are? Gross!”

IT crossed a road, tangling the doll’s head with cigarette butts, bits of litter and sticky chewed gum
“I wish you would take better care of your hair,” flicking a glance of distaste in the her direction

IT cut across a lawn where the big dog lived and dragged her though a fresh pile
When IT climbed the chain link fence, the doll’s an arm caught at the top

“Hurry up, we are late!” yelled IT, tugging her leg roughly.
The doll’s arm ripped at the seam and dropped to the big dog’s lawn, a new chew toy for later

“Now look what you’ve done, well, it’s your own fault for flailing your arms that way.”
IT kept moving, grinding grass and mud into her tattered clothes as her stuffing guts trailed behind.

The monster stopped and looked at the beaten rag doll
With one motion, shot a great arc, deposited it in the dumpster

“Two points!” IT cheered and walked on, “See, loser, you really don’t care about yourself, freak”
The rag doll looked up at a cloud passing, as it waited on top of plastic bags of rotten food

wondering what stink would bury her soon
to cover her shame

rag doll

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2 comments on “for what it’s worth

  1. Rory
    February 21, 2014

    Beautiful, if heartbreaking. Hugs, my dear sweet Zooey.

    Like

  2. zooey
    February 21, 2014

    Thanks, Rory ❤ Hugs back.

    Like

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This entry was posted on February 21, 2014 by in Art, Bipolar Definition, depression, Poetry, Self Esteem and tagged , , , , , , .
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