Pray

I pray for a miracle today

Give me strength, give me power

Though still I feel I will betray

The one who makes me cry and cower

The morning is like any other

Wake up, get up, and the work begins

But when he comes to me, I discover

His anger beneath his wily grin

The first punch leaves me on the floor

I pray again, screams in my mind

But find I still cannot ignore

The guilt of leaving him behind

I pray for a miracle each morning

Before the bruises start to form

And every time, he gives me warning:

For me, this life should be the norm

The sneers, the shouting, bitter words

That hurt far greater than his fists

No change, this is all I deserve

Until my heart can be dismissed

Empty Lament

You can feel the loneliness and grief deep within this poem.

Step Into The Nightmare

I take myself off in an empty lament,

a solace I sing through the unanswered pain,

the words may be tired but they’re sung with intent,

there’s no-one to hear so my song is in vain.

I sing for lost youth and for love unfulfilled,

I sing for the sweetness I held but let go,

I sing for the castles my hands couldn’t build,

I sing for the peace that my mind couldn’t know.

My song is a thread through the story of me,

I splice a new length when there’s pain in my heart,

it helps me recall how it all came to be,

a bundle of yarn I trace back to the start.

When hearts once so gullible harden and break,

when lacklustre lullabies don’t hit their mark,

you sing your lament for your sanity’s sake,

a map to help find your way out of the dark.

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Miss Understood by Mudiwa

I’m Miss Understood
You know me so well

Because you see happiness in my smile
You hear the music in my voice
You feel the warmth of my spirit
You admire the confidence in my stride

I’m Miss Understood
You know me so well
But here’s the thing

I don’t smile for me, its for you
When I speak, I speak for you
I give you all the warmth my spirit can muster
I carry myself as best I can, one step at a time

I’m Miss Understood
You know me so well
But heres the thing
You really don’t know me

But I don’t want you to feel responsible
It’s not your fault
You’re so good figuring me out
Or at least thats what I let you believe

I’m Miss Understood
You know me so well
But here’s the thing
You really don’t know me
And I don’t get it

Why can’t you see the pain in my eyes
Why can’t you hear the tremble in my voice
Why don’t you feel my broken spirit
Why haven’t you noticed the hesitance in my walk

I’m Miss Understood
You know me so well
But here’s the thing
You really don’t know me
And i still don’t get

How you can’t see I’m putting on a mask
How you dismiss me when i take it off
How you pretend you can’t see the real me
How you so casually overlook my suffering

I’m Miss Understood
You know me so well
But here’s the thing
You really don’t know me
And I don’t get it
How you make me feel so deeply misunderstood


About Mudiwa

My name is Mudiwa. I’m a Zimbabwean woman in my early 20s and the founder of MentalityZim, a project that aims to raise mental health awareness particularly in Zimbabwe but also in the world at large.

Visit Mudiwa’s blog where she blogs about mental health, depression, and how to help people who are suffering from mental health issues: https://mentalityzim.wordpress.com/


A huge thank you to Mudiwa for being the first person to submit to Let it Come from the Heart! If you would like to see your own writing featured on this blog, please visit the Submit page.

Writing Prompt #152 ~ The Chariot

A really powerful story on a dark subject that goes on behind closed doors. Very well done.

Word Adventures

She couldn’t breathe. She suffocated really. Everything was tainted red, or black. It oscillated between the two. Her lungs didn’t pump enough oxygen. Her heart kept missing beats. Terrified. She was terrified. She was going to be trampled by the feelings.

There was only one way. She trembled… And pierced the skin. As blood pearled against the edge of the blade, some of the pain became physical. That she could deal with: that was more comfortable. She looked at her scarred arm. As blood flowed free, it purged her of the fear, the aggression, the anger, all feelings that terrified her. She had no idea how she could handle them. They were overwhelming, overpowering and only the process of hurting herself took the edge off.

She watched her blood leave her body washing away the emotional whirlwind. When it stopped, she cleaned it with fresh water. She wrapped the mark…

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Obliterated

I once knew the words
To tell the world of my sorrow
But now I live for nothing
More than to see another tomorrow
Drifting over me, I am menaced
By grey clouds and icy rain;
Where I once had words,
Now only tears describe my pain.

There is nothing I desire
More than an excuse to go;
Nobody else would understand me –
Nobody else can feel this low.
Though someone once tried to tempt
Me to see that good remains,
Even they left unaware
That my happiness was feigned.

I like to stare at your grave
And think about the place below
Where the blackest souls are found
Burning in the fiery glow;
For not a moment do I imagine
Myself without a heavy chain
Bound in sadness just like this life
In the pits of that domain.