In the name of

The belief of being dead, was persuasion in the end, no different from a derogatory voice, madness did set in. Thunder in my life, strikes this heart of mine. My truth a smell of old, without a heart, waiting low to strike, that voice a hidden other time, not me, just a bitter symphony.

I became implored to write, this short sonnet not as well as some might stand. The stars above unseen in day, the sonnet from above, without a word and play, without a voice, praying silently, return me home, i with voice they hear, am heard through her shrill.

where the heart is, in faith the ghosts inside myself reside, longing to speak of her and heaven witnessed, they hear mum of bloods crimes. what should be told, where the story began, a scorn of old, never a secret has been so bold, untold till acceptance of my ill unfold, what was in my mind was always just right, misled all the while astray from that light .

In the daylight, god did humble one mind lurking, unknown till now, heaven herself, most real yet realistic escapes her, to bring me back to time. I did tell in memory, crazy lady she was, a hideous soul, with and without, light and dark, night and day, all just a play, so cruel, to keep a child's mind regressed through the whole hour at one.

The counsel of god revealed a memory not so divine, the truth of my ill, a mother of blood, that stalk and dictate unto, this day, all of those voice's, until I find, everything sick upon my mind, was but another's cruel act and mind.

The cruelty of my blood invading my life, never have I met, Such a ruthless unkind. she do everything but strike accord, with every word, she fails in love, failing the law. The heavens above, know it so, the opposite way this woman of past low, abuse on her mind, the ghost that haunt, a trauma my poor sanctioned mum, whom crossed over, desperate to say the truth of this persuasion, that all without love, drives only self in the equation. This maybe survival but more about her mental self, disregarding everyone bar herself.

The love that's meant, the way I know, has never revealed Such a horrible know. All of the nigh is now just her, with anger I simmer at the ocean of her. That regressing voice, that pathetic play, no story divine, upon this god forsaken day.

knowing him so cruel, seeing him with grace, magnificence implore god this very day; without awe, the real wise not so ill, like the dichotomy of night and day; why is my flaw, her vainly say, stalk me to this very day?

My very cruel mean god, even he does find her odd, says she's smutty, says she's wrong, knows she's disharmony to my soul yet cannot be undone.

My rock and shield throughout it all, kept this secret, while I shout like her instead of ball. All the while, laughing on and on, her knowing deep down, my heartache the truth. To think she could be so fake a person, all are blind to see, there at my back, consistently at the call of mum, words not of a soul, a false abusive little girl yet no girl at all, 62 years proud and strong she brainwashed her own child, her blood. An evil story untold.

The light already inside, forward through we aim, the sum is to much for this equation, as that sum stuck me in awe, until dumbstruck mute. all within the temple, cherished like they've passed, I know god wouldn't share like I unwillingly shared his image to her envious reactive in French eye. Truth each and every time.

A jealousy In question, for I do not share my god, my best memory of the hour, truly him not her. with his son, in his grace, a beauty could never be replaced, yet she make sure I loose him too, god my love unfailing true.

On that day, in clarity like the puzzle that can be solved, at long last, god so cruel was kind, I can no longer hear my own mind, the god whom was seen, can't be understood, just like heavens, he has divided me into two.

A body and another, the dictator to and through, is downright rude, without a grace, so I stopped GOD filling with his grace.

Still at root, issues we all have, aired to merely reiterate her own plot, holding me captive but a woman whom knows French, lies to my mind and rebels against divine, I have found myself stuck; between a rock and a hard place. The river not so calm, as I beneath the surface brew, talking till I'm blue in the face, no way to keep you away from my way.

I feel disgraced, with herself, all my life stalked until my mother die, then brainwashed by the famous person a dictator to my heart and mind. waiting for the day my mum would pass; she hatched a plot, her own fall from grace.

now seems like a waste, really, she think's I was hers, but to toss aside at birth in the end, she made her choice, then with a smell into life. My life in upheaval she stops me in my tracks but would rather commit the crime treason than take me back.

she couldn't be bothered mothering in strife, she ended me, with knowledge hidden, my own, when all the while, over and over, her life I did save, threatened by that ghost knowing my name, all wanted was to cause my insane. As she that separate mind, with memory of the other, decided he the perfect play, to end and torture my mother.

Shared through counsel, I did see the real mother, although I do resent, I'm also grateful another that I wasn't raised by that famous mother. To know and have had, that other mum, now she can rest. As I know the others crimes. Truly wish I had never rescued her sad ass, what I say unto this day, I won't receive that shrew another day, the coward between the two, you tortured us both, famous tube.

I despised her way, when I was one, now I know, even more so. I think for myself but she forbid love, so she survive, as long as I die. she survive, she pulls me back when crossing that divide, called life after death, she stops me in my tracks, every blinking time. Thinking omg I'm going to suffocate and die.

I cry and she denies me, my emotions; taken as her own, afraid that sane will leave, that sane balance was me. why would she? I hear you say, because that is a decade hence my death, she did play.

plotting until I was no longer heard, no longer perceived as the person I really were, waiting until out of the system, mental illness in her plan, making sure I was diagnosed, as I couldn't prove she was mum.

Waiting for the moment to execute her plot, coupled with brainy plan, she executed the lot. what was said at one to my mother, is crazy sociopathy deadly to another. Her I'm not, even though she would make out I'm insane, the plot all came from somewhere just her ingrained, wrongly on my brain.

She uses and abuses, my nieave trait at heart, questions all in my sleep asked to my heart and soul, I receive subconsciously her she doesn't care to see, all that power and gain, would never have been useful unless hiding her own insane.

All my honesty taken away, anything that likes, is threatened her way, but in trust of empathy, she know she's not me. knows what she's done, how all begun, its secret, yet time will tell, for now it remains a past. A regression of my mind and a woe upon my heart. moving forward, she can't bear this thought of truth, that it will come out, I'm like her at hand, and well is the future in the acceptance of her, yet now she the denial, not at peace, a workaholic bored because of me.

why she sacrificed for money, a precious gift of life or plot only she can tell. Really because I didn't know? she assumed she was that foe, another stalker, gained at eight, freaked me out, saying my name. No one knew before that day, my name, not one ghost nor since. My little freak, her wicked way, she made a plot, she knew her own way, things up ahead she could only assume, the death of my mother the only way to get back at her "mum there's a crazy lady standing beside you." was all that I said.

My bright future stolen from my grip, sane became a question, as a teen because the boy was given a grip by her whom called him a voice, that ghost unseen, that knew my name, only one that fell from grace, left ingrained in my mind, how do I tell my family your crimes, straight from the heart ac-cross that divide.

A real nigh as god warned, everything of my life, my mother and her lies, nothing but she, trouble and strife. As wrong as the rest, the industry that degrades, bitter sour plum, in the end; that's what you have become, for truly my mum can rest in peace within heaven now, I know the truth will allow. She will never be replaced, so I say thanks to her extending her hand and heart and introducing gods grace. If I hadn't had her, I may never have met a simple life, had I have been stuck with the other, I'd be nothing but a mothers submissive, without a life.

SMALL QUOTE: "thou art the grandest design, in love thine own."

Jennifer orr