There’s A Rumor – MLMM, Wordle 251

There’s a rumor among the critics and saboteurs in my head
Petrifying my scarred heart
Running icy tendrils down my neck
Designed to make the little girl inside all verklempt

Because the paralysing nightshade poison of the rumor has been proven true
This girl has never been like the neurotypical you

Ostracization and isolation leaves wounds in our energetic bodies
Removing peel by peel of everything you thought true
Providing constant suction on the life force
Until it’s so low, you start thinking death is a viable option

But don’t jump off that bridge just yet
No life’s fate is in stone set
Hidden among the neurodiversity are your secret weapons
An armory full to keep you safe whatever happens


Written for Wordle #251 at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

Verklempt- overly emotional and unable to speak.

I’ve touched upon this before. Both with hints and straight out like in, Another Piece of the Puzzle – A Puente Poem. I apparently have Adhd/Add and ASD/AST.

Some days it makes me furiously angry to be diagnosed this late in life, due to the fact that I’m female and do not fit typically into either diagnosis. Other days I feel immensely sad for the little girl who never understood at all why she couldn’t fit in however much she tried.

Some days it feels like a brand forever excluding me from friendship and love. Other days I realize a lot of my strengths stem from my neurodiversity. My very quick witted mind which others both adore and dislike. My propensity for thinking very deeply about things, which has enabled me to write insightful business reports and papers and allows me to write poetry that touches the hearts of others.

Wrote this to allow myself and others the knowledge that the struggle is real. But that each of us have value and worth. And all of us are deserving to be loved for those we are!

If you yourself are struggling, or know someone who is. Encourage them to get help. To talk to someone. Or drop a line to me either in the comment section or to the mail address you’ll find in the about page.

Message of Hope- After A While- Veronica A. Shoffstall — Go Dog Go Café

Hello Everyone– In these times of uncertainty and fear, I wanted to share a poem with you that I cut out of a newspaper 26 years ago. To give you a little background on my mental state back then, I had recently lost my husband of over 7 years to suicide and my life was […]

Message of Hope- After A While- Veronica A. Shoffstall — Go Dog Go Café

Is Survivor Strength Taboo?

Photo by Andy Vu on

Poor, pill addicted mother
Warped crazy by grief
Unable to competently care
For herself and her offspring
Offer mentality coating us all
She was incapable
So her daughter must be weak
Not the adults around who didn’t interfere

Broken adolescent boy
Unsure of his standing in the hierarchy
Crazy with imagined flirts
Said he loved her
Plied her with moonshine
Then pried her hands and knees apart
Ignoring all please NO
Soon after she left
Shame attached
Clearly she’s been the weaker one

Traumatized, manipulative, violent alcoholic
Warped reality into nightmare
Manifested his demons
Black and blue on her skin
His nightmares in lumps and aches
His hell in ever increasing sadism
Her body no longer hers
Sexdoll for his gratification

She managed to flee
Before being beat to death
Now she’s weak
Didn’t leave at the first punch
Close friends and family
Who heard, saw, knew
Kept their strength
As they didn’t know what to do

Slogging along, keeping afloat
She was too well together
For doctors to note
Her friends called her brittle like old porselin

Ran head first into a brick wall
Total burn-out
Leading to a long night of the soul
Finally got some morsels of support
A man trapped in uncured psychosis
Wounded healer, enlightened teacher
With vast tracts of unknown darkness
Experience taught why patient-doctor relationships are forbidden

Rising from the ashes for a new go at life
He says she’s weak
Not willing to live a life drowned in
I’ll give you this
But never that
She thought she learned a thing or two

Oh, all the things she didn’t know
How healthy boundaries are set
How transformational relationships are fed
How from uncared child to whole independent adult get

He brought her high
So he could push her down
He promised truth
Then filled the atmosphere with lies and deception
Weaved her into a web of unending male ego needs disguised as family needs
She nearly lost hold of reality
Just that ass stubborn spark
Will to live and explore
Kept her from blowing her brains at the bottom of the rabbit hole

Now she’s left with all the burden of failure
The task of rewriting young lifes
Back to innocence and carefree joy
She rejects the grown boy
His – with this lie I never have to care – toys
Family says she’d failed to be properly meek
Life is not for lust, love, creativity to seek
Again she’s weak
Due to leaving a dung heap

What is strength?
How is it defined?
Confusion swirling in her mind.
Why do folk keep telling her they see her as weak?


This is one of several pieces that I’ve started a couple of times, but never finished. Afraid to overshare. So thanks go to Amaya for hosting Poetics: “Bartender, I’d like to close out my tab-oo” at dVerse. Because now my mind couldn’t find any more excuses.

It’s also one of, if not the, longest free verse poems I written so far.

Photo by Archie Binamira on

Open, Accept, Surrender

© RedCat

Breath deep – breathe slow
Open inner celestial gate
Immerse in moon glow

Reveal wretched, abysmal mental-state
Hunted, wounded, all trust broken
Never again pristine whole slate

Accept heartbreak, sorrow, disconnect
Bars of deepest depression
Acknowledge all hurts unspoken

Left no safe sacred bastion
Warlock razed every wall
Drenched soul-well in poison

Surrender at rock-bottom, reveal all
Breathe, be, trust
Hear inner wisdom call

She will guide you dearest
To that space where you begin
Renew energy, life, lust

Return to searching mystic discipline
From breath to heart to soul
Replenish all needs within


Another piece inspired by my meditation. It haven’t escaped my attention that several of my last pieces revolve around the same theme. (That’s why I’ve given them the same image.) I have no intentions in getting caught in a loop, but there is something that wants to be told, and apparently I’m not all the way there yet.

Posted as response to Weekend Writing Prompt #145 – Abysmal hosted by Sammi Cox. 93 words with a Terza rima scheme.

Peel by Peel

Ever felt the need to go deep
To soul-wisdom seek
Peel away personas, distractions, searching, fear
Find way to hear
Courage to all parts of yourself meet
What will you feel
Who will you be
After layers, peel by peel
True inner self reveal

Once again I’m sleepless in Stockholm. So I gave up on tossing and turning to see what I could do with peel. And ended up with a take on “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” Meaning a fair warning for those that consider going into deeper meditation. It can – temporarily – feel like hell, but there’s hope and love in the other end.

Posted as response to Quadrille #98 – Peelings, Nothing More…

To Be a Flower

I am the mother of all lost
Wind-blown Soul-seeds
Abandoned, abused
Yet, equipped with an unequalled inner will
Strength to survive, to live

A spirit who won’t be denied whatever you throw at it
Through me they thrive where no other greenery lives
On the narrow ledges of existence
Clinging with deep roots
Lion-claw strength

On each soul I cast a spell of fortification
Of free will
Of clear shining spirit
A prayer that they will find loving fertile soil to germinate in
Then I cry as they blow away
Dispersed by the wind
Knowing many of them will not grow
But, in time send their own soul-seeds for me to bless


Who wouldn’t want to be a beautiful Rose or Lilly.
Or a Lotus grown from fertile mud.
So many beautiful, fragrant, colourful, delicate flowers to identify with.

Yet, some of us will have to come to terms with being called a persistent weed. Fully edible, early season pollen giver, useful. Uniquely adapted to survive and thrive under adverse conditions.

Like the dandelion we grow and adapt. Nurturing those around us.
Spreading our inner light, sunshine in dreary environments.
Yet most of us fail to pollinate and evolve past our childhood trauma.
Doomed to repeat the cycle of abuse.

My struggle is that of all dandelion children. Yes, we seem to have thrived and risen above our broken childhood. But the scars run bone deep. Soul deep. And without proper treatment, without learning new ways to live. Many of us will have a lifelong struggle.

Posted in response to Poetics- To Be a Flower at dVerse.

Instamargitta / CC BY-SA 4.0

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