Today on PBS I found an hour long story of Ernest’s Hemingway’s life. I was reminded of his turbulences and many women, recognized writing, noble peace-prize and that he suffered some severe head injuries leading him to dealing with difficult emotions, estrangement and efforts to address mental health. It is painful to hear that his writing is unachievable for others due to the depth of suffering from which he was writing. It is awful that he committed suicide and it is sad that he wasn’t able to win the battle in his life with the demons that haunted him.
I haven’t written anything more than 17 syllables in a while so I decided to sit down and write a poem out of my own suffering to honour the pain of E. Hemingway. I believe after watching this program I will be treasuring myself as a woman more. I am glad I didn’t commit suicide and I am glad I have caring people who support me.
Martyrdom & why you need to love me It is frightening that you derive joy Knowing others are suffering it shocks my mind that you only want to see pain and laugh about it I do not see what you do or are thinking as funny, we aren't friends, it's not my goal i do not want you to misunderstand pain you gave to me as a joke. I hurt and struggle because of your thinking I cant stand another day of unloving uncaring way you want to be with me. Make a full effort to be kind and practice sanity towards your relatives, I am not into making you happy you feel like you want to vent allover my precious body. I don't need or have reasons or need reasons for your sense of humour and laughter at unjust pain of other people. you do not appreciate martyrdom. you don't know what to do with one in your life. Scars remain from knowing you.