Picked to Pieces


The coating underneath

Eats away at surface cracks

You peel layers of me

As if I'm scabby flesh 


We work on me

Like we're dissecting the abnormal

Pushing and pulling 

Vulnerability grows


Haunting trails of voices

Linger in the open world

Soon growing hands

Upon my neck to grasp


Eyes too tired to be vibrant 

You've given me a sorrowful glow

Dark truths, a halo for my head

Misery flaunts an awful tone


If I could write a letter to my past,
There are so many things I would say


If I could write a letter to my future,
There are so many things I would ask


I would say “it'll get better, stay strong!”

And that would be a lie


I would ask, “does it ever get better?”
And I would hope that it does


I would say “you're strong, you can hold the world on your shoulders!”
And that would be a lie


I would ask, “did you make it through this?”
And I would hope the answer's yes


If I could write a letter to my past,
I would only be able to lie


If I could write a letter to my future,
I don't think I'd want a reply


We endured so much in the past,
Scraping by, clawing through the dust and into what we thought was sunlight


We'll have endured so much in the future,
And hopefully we'll have emerged in the moonlight


We suffered so much pain in the past,
But it feels like nothing but a sliver under our skin compared to now


We'll have suffered so much in the future,
That if we're still around I will truly be shocked


If I could write a letter to my past,
I wouldn't warn them


If I could write a letter to my future,
I wouldn't ask for help


Because this pain is what makes us who we are,
This pain defines us,
It binds us and shackles us to our broken version of reality.


If I could write a letter to my past,
I wouldn't give help
I wouldn't warn them of the dangers to come,
Because that pain, the pain that defines my very reality
Is all I have left.


And if I could write a letter to my future, I wouldn't ask for help,
I wouldn't ask for a heads-up or a warning of everything to come,
Because that pain, the pain that defines my very life,
Will continue to antagonize my every breath,

Leading me to become someone beyond our imaginations.


If I could write a letter across time,
There wouldn't be much in it,
Because if there was,

Those letters wouldn't be addressed to me,
They'd be addressed to someone completely different,
Someone who hasn't suffered the pain that defines me.


I need that pain.
Without that pain, me wouldn't be me.

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Salt Laden Drops

Je Na Sais Quoi

Why do I miss you so much?

What's this strange feeling that surge?

Salt laden drops

I collapse on the floor

With my hands crossed

Over my tissue cocooned ribs

In a bid to

Protect my heart!

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Do you -- do you know the reason they moan? 

Like abled creatures and beings, 
or the pullings tides, 
our watchful trees with too to move. 

They wish to enjoy the harvest, to dance in their fallen leaves. 
They long to sway and sing with the times of change, 
and to see the miracles of seed. 

But their roots are buried deep, 
and to be removed is defeat. 

So they sing their lonely songs 
with weathered bark and 
branches that reach for more. 

These are the reasons they moan.  

Author's Notes/Comments: 

There was actually more to the poem, but I opted only to share the second half. Just a little something. At the time I was a rather interested in trees. Smile

Morning Touch

Your touch in the mornings is what I miss the most

The warmth of your body lying in my arms

The smell of your hair before I open my eyes

Waking to my side becoming one sixteenth of the bed

Because you had seized control of the rest throughout the night

Your snooze and snooze, and snooze and snooze and snooze

I’d give anything to be awakened by one more time

Your voice was softest in the morning

Before you were fully awake

Still half dreaming

You were everything I could possibly dream for

The one thing I need

I still reach for you in the moment I wake

Expecting there to be something besides the emptiness you left

When you would wake first and whisper sweet nothings into my ear

Thinking I was still asleep, I heard every word

I still, hear every word

Your touch in the morning is what I miss the most

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Lonely Bones

My bones lay cold under the rock where the water runs brisk. Preserved for years to be found a day when last I know to be at risk. No sound to be found, so quiet, so dark. Trapped before, trapped now, never at peace, let me die please. Forget my sorrows, let there be no tomorrow, I thought god at least in death, would have given me no unsweet sorrow.     By Rob Casteel

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Deep With-in !

deep with in 2011


i was crying so deep in tears

no one could see my pain or fears

burying my burdens was better than talking

so depressed was i from deep with in

deep with in deep with in

no way out no need to shout

deep with in deep with in

my burdens were mine no one would find

sinking fast from the weight of sorrow

i couldnt continue to put on or borrow

taking those pills i thought i was clear

but lost sight of those whom i find dear

under i was no need to bost

till i was reminded what mattered most

the love of my children came shining in

sank down inside deep with in!




Author's Notes/Comments: 

This particular Poem was my very first one, I wrote it while i was in the Psych ward at St. Mary's hospital, i went there after i tried to kill myself and it means a lot to me because it is exsactialy how i felt right up till i desided to end it all i didnt think there was no way out, but i know now there is always a way out one just has to want it badly enough, this Poem i dedicate to all who are in a volitile relationship and dont think there is any way out, there is always a way out, i got out of a 24 year very abusive Marriage and if i can get out after all those years then so can you!  And never forget to always Stay Strong!!!!!!

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Prisoner of Lore

Foretold once was a place begotten in
the Legendary War of Mankinde.....
faire in wealth and luxourie but void
of love and charitee..
But blind are not who root in povertee
fancy by foe, for foe forgot 
once a war
raged on in these lands 
but now led to become who 
once was won by ways of war
and the villainee they abhorr. 
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When souls are dark as the night

When solace lies not in the stars

But in the dream kept by others

And in those tears not shed

For solace is forgotten

In all but the darkest of nightmares

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