Words of a Life Once Lived

This is hard.
I'm trying to write a poem of the pain of the past,
but alas, I strain my brain trying to explain,
the pain, like a broken glass window pane.
But the truth is, that time has passed and this poem
makes it sound like I owe them the right to a voice.
So I pretend on my end that I'm angry and try
to force some thoughts of what happened to me
like it's some astronomical catastrophe,
but really its those events and pain that gave me the
Self gain and respect that's made me this crazy
And I wouldn't trade it.

You see,
I can go on a tangent where I say "just let me
Vent," That these words were sent with the mission
To represent all those that suffered like in some
Convent, but my suffering is mine alone so I
Don't need a clone speaking with the same tone
like some recording on the phone. My past is
Unique, just like yours, so there's no need to
seek someone to speak what you think, for your
Voice is louder and prouder than you think and
You blink and breathe and know that your past
Doesn't define you, so your future isn't bleak.
Maybe in time you too will be unbent after
You circumvent that taunts you.

I tried,
To write about those that deceived me, but believe
me that even though allies became foes and how I
can't forgive the assholes and hoes, it just goes
to show that I can grow because of it. I couldn't
Find the words to splurge, and nothing gave me the
Urge to merge, these lines, putting me on the verge
of just tossing it out like the last bad poems I wrote.
Poetry can't be forced. Let it be a spontaneous
Overflow like Wordsworth wrote. Nothing needs
to be extraneous, just let it be simultaneous when
Your pen and cranium work together like the hands
and pendulum of a clock.

Tick tock. It's your time to rock.