Misha777 - Hello Poetry

The water started soft and warm, like nothing bad could grow. Just yellow lights and bedtime sounds, the kind all children know. Bare feet against the bathroom tile, small fingers wrinkling white, a little girl too young to know that monsters came at night. Then suddenly his heavy hand pressed hard upon my head, and all the air inside my chest filled up with fear instead. The world became a violent blur, all bubbles, noise, and pain, my tiny body kicking wild against the porcelain. I fought so hard. My lungs began to burn. I clawed against the waterline, desperate for one turn. But grown men feel like giants when you’re little, weak, and small. His hand felt like a concrete wall, too heavy to outcrawl. And somewhere in that drowning dark, beneath the bathtub waves, a child learned awful, ugly truths about the ones who save. Because the monsters were not hiding underneath my bed. They stood above me breathing hard with one hand on my head. Then came the strangest, darkest part— my body growing still, the panic fading quietly against my tiny will. The world turned dim around the edges, my thoughts grew slow and deep, like maybe if I stopped my fight my fear would go to sleep. And afterward the water drained, the house stayed warm and bright, the towels folded neatly up, the world still felt alright. Nobody screamed. Nobody saw. Nobody pulled me near. No one wrapped me in their arms and said, “You’re safe, my dear.” So I carried death inside my chest and silence in my bones, a little girl who learned too young survival feels alone. And even now, some nights, I swear that child still lives below, beneath dark water, reaching up through light that bends and glows. Still holding one last breath inside. Still praying to be found. Still wondering why no one came before she started down.

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7d ago

May 27, 2026 at 5:39 PM UTC

The Drowning

The water started soft and warm, like nothing bad could grow. Just yellow lights and bedtime sounds, the kind all children know. Bare feet against the bathroom tile, small fingers wrinkling white, a little girl too young to know that monsters came at night. Then suddenly his heavy hand pressed hard upon my head, and all the air inside my chest filled up with fear instead. The world became a violent blur, all bubbles, noise, and pain, my tiny body kicking wild against the porcelain. I fought so hard. My lungs began to burn. I clawed against the waterline, desperate for one turn. But grown men feel like giants when you’re little, weak, and small. His hand felt like a concrete wall, too heavy to outcrawl. And somewhere in that drowning dark, beneath the bathtub waves, a child learned awful, ugly truths about the ones who save. Because the monsters were not hiding underneath my bed. They stood above me breathing hard with one hand on my head. Then came the strangest, darkest part— my body growing still, the panic fading quietly against my tiny will. The world turned dim around the edges, my thoughts grew slow and deep, like maybe if I stopped my fight my fear would go to sleep. And afterward the water drained, the house stayed warm and bright, the towels folded neatly up, the world still felt alright. Nobody screamed. Nobody saw. Nobody pulled me near. No one wrapped me in their arms and said, “You’re safe, my dear.” So I carried death inside my chest and silence in my bones, a little girl who learned too young survival feels alone. And even now, some nights, I swear that child still lives below, beneath dark water, reaching up through light that bends and glows. Still holding one last breath inside. Still praying to be found. Still wondering why no one came before she started down.

61

Grey blue eyes and soft curly cues Pockets with starlight in her diamond tipped shoes She skipped through her world spun of peppermint air, With moons made of honey and ribbons in her hair She wore the clouds like little lace gowns as they floated along Humming the fairies a sleepy eyed song Fireflies flickered like tiny gold bells Guiding her farther and farther from the wave crashing swells She gathered up wonder in thimble sized jars And counted the freckles that lived on the stars Built her little boats out of lavender leaves And sailed them through pink rivers that slept in the trees Her rabbits wore waistcoats and the birds knew rhyme The roses swayed softly to tell her the time Even the wind with its warm sugared sigh Would tuck her small dreams in the crook of the sky There were castles in closets and seas made of glass, Hours she prayed the nightmares would pass. Each curl on her forehead, each wish whispered through, Was the armor she fashioned when her tiny world grew. And far, far away where the dark things would creep The monsters grew lost in the forests asleep For none of them knew how to follow her there Past castles of bubblegum built in the air So into her kingdom softly she'd run Through puddles of chocolate and cinnamon sun Where baby blue eyes could stay wondrous and free Forever a child in her bright reverie.

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May 26

May 26, 2026 at 10:40 AM UTC

The Reverie

Grey blue eyes and soft curly cues Pockets with starlight in her diamond tipped shoes She skipped through her world spun of peppermint air, With moons made of honey and ribbons in her hair She wore the clouds like little lace gowns as they floated along Humming the fairies a sleepy eyed song Fireflies flickered like tiny gold bells Guiding her farther and farther from the wave crashing swells She gathered up wonder in thimble sized jars And counted the freckles that lived on the stars Built her little boats out of lavender leaves And sailed them through pink rivers that slept in the trees Her rabbits wore waistcoats and the birds knew rhyme The roses swayed softly to tell her the time Even the wind with its warm sugared sigh Would tuck her small dreams in the crook of the sky There were castles in closets and seas made of glass, Hours she prayed the nightmares would pass. Each curl on her forehead, each wish whispered through, Was the armor she fashioned when her tiny world grew. And far, far away where the dark things would creep The monsters grew lost in the forests asleep For none of them knew how to follow her there Past castles of bubblegum built in the air So into her kingdom softly she'd run Through puddles of chocolate and cinnamon sun Where baby blue eyes could stay wondrous and free Forever a child in her bright reverie.

28

Little girl laid to rest Drowned the soul she prayed was blessed Tiny hands so cold and still Broken beneath another’s will She learned too young how silence screams How monsters crawl inside your dreams How love can wear a gentle face While leaving bruises no one can trace Now graveyards bloom beneath her chest Where all her frightened parts they rest All their voices scratch and cry Like buried things that never die The monsters may have left her bed But they still whisper in her head And every night the shadows creep To rock her wounds instead of sleep She became a ghost in skin and bone A child surviving all alone Apologizing when she bled Begging for scraps of love instead She learned to freeze, to not resist To disappear when darkness kissed For tenderness would always cost Another piece of self she lost What cruel and bitter art To teach such terror to a heart To make a little child believe That pain was all that she’d receive Little girl laid down to sleep Buried somewhere far too deep For somewhere past the ruin’s swell Beyond the teeth, beyond the hell Now I lay her down to sleep, With shattered secrets buried deep. If she should die before she wakes God please save the child they tried to break. And if He finds her soul below Curled where the darkest flowers grow Tell her at last the night has passed That little girls can rest at last.

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May 25

May 25, 2026 at 11:09 PM UTC

Little Girl Laid to Rest

Little girl laid to rest Drowned the soul she prayed was blessed Tiny hands so cold and still Broken beneath another’s will She learned too young how silence screams How monsters crawl inside your dreams How love can wear a gentle face While leaving bruises no one can trace Now graveyards bloom beneath her chest Where all her frightened parts they rest All their voices scratch and cry Like buried things that never die The monsters may have left her bed But they still whisper in her head And every night the shadows creep To rock her wounds instead of sleep She became a ghost in skin and bone A child surviving all alone Apologizing when she bled Begging for scraps of love instead She learned to freeze, to not resist To disappear when darkness kissed For tenderness would always cost Another piece of self she lost What cruel and bitter art To teach such terror to a heart To make a little child believe That pain was all that she’d receive Little girl laid down to sleep Buried somewhere far too deep For somewhere past the ruin’s swell Beyond the teeth, beyond the hell Now I lay her down to sleep, With shattered secrets buried deep. If she should die before she wakes God please save the child they tried to break. And if He finds her soul below Curled where the darkest flowers grow Tell her at last the night has passed That little girls can rest at last.

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