Tag Archives: self-worth


~Esther Mitchell, 2015~

Did you ever truly believe in me?
I never saw a glimmer of belief,
Your pretty words hung hollow,
A shiny bauble between us, with no substance.
You were supposed to be my first supporter,
My cheerleader against the world,
My compass to understand honesty,
And you taught me only that I should accept your lies,
Because you told me they were true,
And you assumed I could not see the deception as it was.
I found my compass elsewhere,
In eyes that saw me as beautiful,
When all I saw was a discarded, ugly thing.
I learned what belief was,
In the actions of another,
A guardian angel who flew in on roaring engines,
To save me from my own hand,
When you couldn’t even be bothered to know I was gone.
I was too old for Fairy Tales,
When I found my first true supporter,
Who was awed by all the things you failed to see,
Who wrapped me up when I was cold,
and who loved me, for me.
Did you ever truly believe in me?
I’ve learned the answer to that question,
In bitter contrast between what you failed to give,
And the strength another gave me, to live,
And the answer is a resounding “No,”
Because had you believed in me then,
You would believe in me, still,
And I would not feel a stranger,
To the blood in my own veins,
Every time I hear you exclaim,
Another’s triumphs as your pride,
When you couldn’t even bother,
To see me, when I was right before your eyes.




~ Esther Mitchell, 2012~

 I’ve had enough,
Of hiding in shadows,
Of burying the truth,
And boarding over the windows.

I’m tired of living like this,
Always looking over my shoulder,
Always wondering,
Always waiting for the storm to erupt.

I can’t bear the weight any longer,
The burden of unreasonable expectation,
The blame of all that remains imperfect,
The pressure of it crushes what little remains of my spirit.

My throat weakens,
With every silent scream;
My heart rends,
With every unvoiced cry;
I come apart at the seams,
And want only to die.

My faith in love is my salvation,
For it guides me back to my home;
The warmth, the touch, the presence,
Of what most cannot understand.

No longer will I be silent,
When you’ve sheathed your daggers in my heart;
No longer will I hide the truth,
This is where I draw my line, this is where I start.


“I’m Sorry”

~Esther Mitchell, 2014~

I’m sorry I’m not shiny,

I’m sorry I’m not new,

I’m sorry I’m so worn down,

I’m sorry I’m not just like you.


Forgive me that my body,

Doesn’t do what you want it to,

Or that my heart is broken,

And what I like is so different,

From what you like to do.


I’m sorry I have pain,

I can’t just shed away,

I’m sorry that my past,

Is with me, here to stay.


I’m sorry if my existence,

Causes you so much grief,

I’m sorry I even speak,

And to prove it, I’ll be brief.


You see, I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know,

That you demand I be like you,

I’m sorry you can’t accept me as I am,

The way I’ve always accepted you.


~Esther Mitchell, 2014~

I am a machine,

A soulless thing meant to be used,

Given little thought,

Even less compassion,

And absolutely no respect.

I am a machine,

A thing without emotion,

Without independent thought,

A cog within a bigger work,

Discarded without thought,

When I’ve been ground away to a useless husk.

I am a machine,

No compromise need be made,

No compassion need be given,

No proof of life need be acknowledged,

Your conscience forever clear,

Because I can’t feel your abuse.

But what if I’m not a machine?

What if I have thoughts?

What if I feel, just like you?

What if your words, your actions,

Bleed out my heart and soul and leave me broken?

Would it change how you see me,

If you believed I was worth real concern?

Or would it not matter to you,

That your inability to see my humanity,

Is at the core of why I stagger and fall?

But I’m a machine…

Or is that just how you see me?