http://slow.writerscafe.org/ShannieMarie The original writings of author Shannie M Fowler en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776050701 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Every time I climb the ladder a little, I seem to fall down. Harder. How in the hell will get out of this rutt in my life I constantly seem to face over and over? Its got to stop. No matter how hard I try, fight, do, make happen or intend to start or finish, something happens to where I spir.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShannieMarie/1278408/ About two months after my mama passed away four years ago, we found out daddy had cancer. I was so occupied with his health at the time, I never grieved my mother until daddy passed two years ago. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShannieMarie/1278405/ Had another breakdown....how many more before I feel better? I am breaking over different things going on in my heart n mind. Different pains. I cry for my loved ones...hate seeing them in pain...I cry for me to get better....I cry for my children...my husband...My marriage...I cry because I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShannieMarie/1278400/ I look at my life...past and present...I've been alone along time. I search old photos...as well as new....I've been alone along time. I look around my surroundings...I am still alone. I hear you in my heart and mind....you too are alone....have been along time. I miss the laughter...smiles... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShannieMarie/1278390/ Where do you call to home? So many doors, so many driveways. So many porches and nightlights. So many welcomes and handshakes. So many warm smiles and inviting comforts. Open arms and a bed to rest. So many places to call home, are too many places to call home. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShannieMarie/1278386/ Outside of myself, I feel rigid and broken. My surface has been scratched, by what feels like sandpaper. Underneath, I endure open wounds. Many inflamed, relit and burned by gasoline. To cleanse with sodium would be less painful. My heart bruised like a punching bag, never eased. Many unhealed scars.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShannieMarie/1278383/ I am cringing....I am dieing inside....I am fighting demons....I am not caring...I am self destructive....I am shut down....I am sad....I am emotional....I am at fault...I am full of guilt....I am angry....I am mad....I am hurting...I am facing reality....I am regretful...I am seeing myself... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShannieMarie/1278377/ This is a poem about my childhood abuse and gives others an understanding of why I love butterflies so much. They saved alot of my emotional stability. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShannieMarie/1278368/ When I feel perplexed...I know I am fickle.When I feel concealed...I know I am perceptive.When I feel indifferent...I know I am attentive.When I feel numbness...I know I am sensitive.When I feel aimless...I know I am grounded.When I feel hesitant...I know I am devoted.When I feel shatter.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShannieMarie/1278366/ I sat one evening and this short story just flowed out of me. I had not actually read it until I was finished, and I realized it was about me and what I had seen myself as before healing me. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShannieMarie/1278356/