A/N: This poem probably makes no sense but after listening to a few Blythe Baird poems I felt inspired to write something like this.
The life of a woman can be challenging
The life of a woman can be an uphill battle that sometimes we just do not want to fight
Women can be born in hospitals
They can also be born trapped in masculine jail cells
Some people say that sexism is dead
But then they remind us to always carry pepper spray in the same breath
And I begin to wonder if being a woman is a curse or a blessing
Surely things had to improve by now
We are not in the twenties after all
But dread settles in the pit of my stomach like stones at the bottom of a river
When I remember reading that we had to invent nail polish that changed color in drugged drinks
Lipstick shaped mace
Develop apps to walk us home
And underwear designed to prevent assault
I wish I could go back
Back to a time before womanhood hit me like a truck
Back to a time before *******
And periods
Before I knew about all the sharp corners of the world
I often think of if I want to change the world
I do
And I do not
Somedays I want to write acceptance into existence
Some days I just want to hide from the weight of responsibility
Crushing me like a ton of bricks
I shudder as I remember the nights a man twisted my will by calling me, baby
Talking me out of conversations I knew I should have brought up sooner
I want people to see women as people
Most importantly men
We are not your playthings
We are not objects you can twist and mold to your desires
We are not a piece of candy for your eyes
I want everyone to realize these things
But I will try and coat my words in sugar
I will try to make these words easy to hear
Easy to read
I will try and soften the impact of reality
I will try and make these words
This poem easy to swallow
Like a microscopic pill
I will try and make reading this easier than it is for us women to live
Dec 10, 2019
Dec 10, 2019 at 8:19 PM UTC
When I was a girl
Around eight years old
My parents used to take me to ice cream
Every weekend
That bell above the store door would chime
Happy to see another paying customer
Even when the snow outside howled like ghosts
That bell above the store door would chime.
And every weekend I would limp into the store
With all the excitement I could muster
And I always felt like I was being
carried away
Into a mythical world made of frozen sugar
The perfume of waffle cones, chocolate, coffee, and vanilla
Mixed and melted into a tornado of deliciousness
That swirled around my tiny body.
But my joy would shatter like a mirror
When my mom would demand that I choose
Between chocolate and vanilla
And I couldn't for the life of me
Understand why
How could I choose?
Why did I have to choose?
Could I not have both?
Could I not have the rich deep taste of chocolate and brownie chunks
Alongside the calming smell and gentle flavor of vanilla?
Ultimately I couldn't
I was eight
Had no authority
And my mom was paying
So I always chose chocolate
Different but still safe
Still normal.
This dilemma of choice always seemed to follow me as I aged growing into a bigger beast
With each year
With each decision
It clung to my shadow
Always reared it's ugly head when I just needed it to go away for a second and let me think
Let me breathe.
Throughout elementary school
I struggled to choose between
Transformers
Or princesses
I again couldn't fathom why I couldn't choose both
Why I couldn't be both.
Why couldn't I enjoy explosive white noise
And women with pretty dresses who sang songs and had animal sidekicks?
I didn't want to choose
I again wanted both
But of course, I couldn't
Because of the fact I was destined to grow ******* in the future
I chose princesses
Pink
Pretty
Normal
Safe.
In my freshman year of high school, I yet again had to choose
Boys?
Or girls?
I felt the weight of each choice weigh on me like bricks
The pressure of the gossip and venomous whispers I could encounter
Crushing me like I was at the bottom of the sea
Could I not have the
Strength
of a man
And the soft comfort of a fellow female
I couldn't choose
I just couldn't
So I forced myself to be straight as a pole
Steady and unwavering
I wouldn't accept that I was a pole that swayed in the wind
Going back and forth like a pendulum
I wanted both
Her soft touch
His strong chest
Her honey-sweet voice
His rough kiss
Her perfume
His cologne
Her
Him
Her
Him
My mind kept swinging back and forth endlessly
I couldn't handle it
I couldn't stand the fact that I swayed back and forth so easily
I always decided
I always was as normal as I could manage
Why now?
Why this?
Why was this the thing that shattered me like glass?
I ran
I'm ashamed of myself for it
But I ran from this problem
This choice
The beast had grown too large for me to handle.
I quarantined my emotions like they were each a deadly disease
And I became numb
Empty
Cold
A blank canvas that I refused to label
So the beasts prowling in my head did it for me.
Emo
Trash
Useless
Disgusting
Spaz
*******
Freak
Lazy
Fat
Unlovable
Stupid
And many more.
But today
I fight my beasts head on
And sure I may not have a blade
But I am fighting with all I can
I fight with my tongue and teeth
Because they're all I have left.
Today
I sculpt a new ice cream shop
I walk up to the door slowly
My heart pounding loudly in my ears like a drum
After a moment I enter
Leaving my beasts outside at the door
The bell above the door chimes
Happy to see me after all these years of emptiness
This is my ice cream shop
My safe space
And this time
I can
And will
Have it all
Chocolate swirled alongside vanilla
A princess driving a transformer.
And I shall love men and woman
Because my heart yearns for both
Life is too short for me to let beasts run my mind anyway.
Dec 10, 2019
Dec 10, 2019 at 3:48 AM UTC
this is a poem to my dad
if you are reading this
I'm sorry
but
in this poem
I will just be typing my feelings
and seeing what happens
seeing what monstrous words crawl out from the cracks of my crumbling
empty
heart
Fathers
Fathers protect you
Fathers raise you
Fathers make you a good person
they set a good example
and for the most part
you've done that
and I am extremely grateful
but...
the other half of our almost 18-year coexistence
you've made me feel things
bad things
dark dark
things
and thoughts
dad, I love you
but I can tell
that you do not feel the same
about me
sure you might have raised me
and dealt with the monsters under the bed
in the closet
in my head
but for the past 18 years
I have felt a burning bright red rage and hatred
cutting my heart in two
and I could never pinpoint why or how it started
maybe it is my mere existence that triggers this
maybe you're finally realizing I am a machine that you can't fix
so you yell at me for not fixing myself even though I don't know how or what's broken, to begin with
perhaps
it's my smile
my eyes
my heart
my mind
I do not know
maybe you hate me because I ruined your wife's life
with my existence
my personality
whatever it is
I don't know
but I just know you hate me
dad
you make me feel as though
I. am. nothing
and if you make ME feel that way
I can only imagine how my mother feels
having been married to you all this time
you make me feel ugly
I don't know why maybe
that's just me being me
broken
and damaged
you make me feel sad
when you say 'don't expect me too'
it makes me feel betrayed in a way
you make me feel angry
by the way, you treat my mother at times
my mom is a saint for dealing with you
she deals with your ice cold heart
your anger
your screaming that I can hear over my Hamilton blaring from my headphones
that I have blasting to block out the noises of the angry voices of the people that once put me to sleep
you make me feel inadequate
whenever I can't meet your increasingly high standards
whenever you ask about my math grades
and you focus on my math and nothing else
y'know dad I took a marine biology course
and passed it
just so I could
FINALLY
earn just the tiniest amount of respect from you
but
I didn't
my grade was too low
too low
they're always too low
and they're never good enough
for you
and your standards
I don't think I'll ever be able to meet those standards
imagine this
I am a world class gymnast
or in a p.e. class
without my physical limitations of course
and I have to do a pull up
I jump up to grab the shining pole
the praise
the admiration
the respect
but I miss and fall back to the ground
failure
but that doesn't stop me from trying again
I jump again this time the bar is etched with geometric equations and it's higher
my hands grasp it for a minute and then quickly
let go once again
another fail
I try
and try
and try
but no matter how high I jump up
I always fall
always fail
to others, I'm doing great
they're so proud
proud of me
but not you
no matter what I do
nothing is good enough for you
dad, I hope these words
finally, drill through your thick skull
but I know they won't
nothing ever will
I'm just being optimistic
dad
why am I writing this?
you ask
well I'll tell you why dad
I was talking to my boyfriend
as the sun laid down and rested it's tired head painting the sky orange and pink waiting for the night shift
and he was attempting to help me get my mic to not be quiet
and I felt rage bubbling over the surface like a hot soup
and I yelled
hung up
and sobbed
I called back a few seconds a few minutes later
apologizing profusely
I realized dad
that I started to sound like you
screaming
angry
frustrated and I also realized
I NEVER want to make someone feel the way you make me feel ever!
when I finally move out of the little nest of love
drama
family
and happiness you and mom built
I don't know if I will want to associate all that much
not with you anyway
sure
if MOM invites me
to a party
to a dinner
I will go and talk to you as little as possible
and I know one child has done that before
and I know it hurts
but you have made me feel this way for nearly 18 years
and you can't just recover instantly from that kind of ****
now YOU must try and grasp the high bar to try and regain my trust
goodbye dear readers
goodbye dad I hope you finally get it
love your daughter
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 10:28 AM UTC
Who could ever love a girl, who wears her sadness on her face like makeup?
Who could ever touch a girl, with scars all over her wrists
When you want to make love, you might be turned off at the unattractive scars that are scattered across her body.
Who could ever sleep with a girl, who has nightmares of her demons eating her alive?
Who could possibly ever love a girl who once every few week
Sits in a stuffy cage with a specialist trained to eat away at her brain piling her tired mind With questions?
Who could touch a girl who’s stomach rolls like two hills to the point where just looking at them makes her
And you
*****
Who could cuddle a girl who will just use your chest as a prison for her tears?
Soaking the fabric of your clothes in her sadness till you both drown?
Who could ever, run their fingers through a rats nest of blonde hair?
Who could ever bring themselves to love someone like this?
Who could anyone bring themselves to love me?
Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
A/n: a poem about the last day of my junior year
So... It happened on the last day of school
Me and my mom were going to Starbucks before school.
I was so excited to drink coffee and say my summer good-byes
Then my excitement came crashing down
And I was given a nice fat serving of sadness
My mom first lectured to me about not getting in the car when it was locked.
Then when I get in the car she continues to yell.
Yell
Yell
Yell
That's all she seems to do anymore
Then she yells about how I care for nothing not even myself and my appearance
she then said and I quote
"Well, it's about time someone told you, you look like a homeless person, and you smell even worse than one!"
We get our coffee in
Cold
Isolating
Crushing
Depressing silence.
When ILT rolled around I threw my lunch away went to the bathroom sat in the corner of a stall and cried...
I don't know why
, I cried it's just that having your mother... Basically, call you ugly...
Something you believed since you turned 13... It... It just broke my heart...
And shattered what little confidence I had left ...
And I desperately try to pick up the tiny fragments
Of my self-esteem
And each day that passes
Seems just a bit brighter as another shard fits into place
But then one venomous word or thought
Sends the pieces back to the floor
Poisoning my mind until I'm back where I belong
In the corner my eyes leaking tiny raindrops
Well..
I'm sorry mom
but It's so ******* hard to care
when you've had the confidence, and joy emotionally beaten out of you
by people you thought cared
people you talk to
people you thought were supposed to protect you, but no!
All they do is drag you down into the depths of your own self-loathing
I've lost all ability to care about **** like hygiene and personal appearanc
especially when the joy in looking my best has been ****** out of me like a juice box...
So I watch anime and game desperately hoping to feel happiness again
but all I feel is emptiness and self hatred...
I try
And try
And try
To care about myself
But my happy caring self
Is in heavy iron chains
Of self hatred
And a new chain is added
With each
Venomous
Angry
Statement that echoes in my hollow head
So I just want to say
I'm F.I.N.E
Fearful
Insecure
Nervous
Emotional
Someday I hope I can be truly fine
Not F.I.N.E
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
Cough syrup
Red
Leaves you dead
Cherry
Filled with kodine
I leave a note filled with
Tears & love
This is not your fault i reapeat
Over And over
like a catchphrase
After I have written my last words
I sneak off into the darkened bathroom
The shadows in the corners
Amplyfiying my anxiety and the darkness in my head
The emptiness of my bed
After a moment of hesitation
I bring the bleach bottle to my lips
the mint smelling liquid burning away
the skin on my soft lips
I hold the liquid on my tongue
Oh how it burned
Oh how that first drink burned
I sip two more times
Two more times
The flesh of my tongue
Lips
And throat
Raw
I cough and gag
I walk back to my room
Deafeated
I am not dead
Suddenly as I sit in my lime chair
A red gleam catches my eye
Cough syrup prescribed to me
Months ago
Three teaspoons gone from it
I unscrew the cap
Guzzling down the vile liquid
The smell, and taste enough to make me gag
I down half of the poison
Letting it purify my insides
I smile for the first time in days
Finally free from
Burdening all who care for me
I stand my body diminishing from the inside out
My once pink insides
Now dyed a ****** red and happy
Happy to be rotting
After a few agonizing hours of awaiting to become a rotting corpse i stumble to my kitchen and examine my mom's set of knifes
Each one has sharpened teeth designed
To cut me open like a tender cut of meat
My eyes gleam in childlike wonder as I try to pick which one will slice my veins
I choose one like a kid choosing candy
Selective and critical
Finally i pick one and slide it quickly d across my wrists
I am shocked at how much blood comes pouring
From my wounds
But i quickly become addicted
Addicted to my blood
Addicted to the pain
Addicted to the thought of my death
After several cuts
I walk to bed to see if I can become a corpse in my bed
When i awake
I am dissapointed and relieved all at once
Relieved to be alive
Disappointed to be alive
Over the day my sticky red insides
Reject any nourishment
Expelling any of it through my mouth
My thoughts run a mile a minute
I find myself unable to focus on anything
My muscles feel ghostly cold
Meanwhile my skin is boiling hot
Once my mom comes home
Rushed to the hospital
Ordered not to fall asleep
in the rumbling car
But all my tired brain
And sticky red insides want
Is a permenant
Eternal
Happy
Sleep
But i was never given that sleep
That oh so sweet release
Water was washed through me to get rid of
The toxic red in my system
Now my insides are pink and truly happy again
Happy to not be rotting and decaying
Happy to be alive
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 1:34 AM UTC
I want to become art.
When the pit at the bottom of my stomach seems to grow
and all possibility for human interaction is fleeting
I dream of becoming the girl
That other girls wish to be
If only they wait long enough to raise a peach to their quivering lips
Weeping because they know their DNA
Will never be as perfect as my own
I want to become art I want my skeleton
Buldging boldly from my skin
To become some ones master piece
Their magnum opus
I want to be the Mona Lisa of the modern age
The bold brash beauty
I want to be the girl that smiles without it being forced
I want to be a gamer
I want the mirror to stop being agony
I want to be taller
I want to be smaller
I want to laugh quieter
I want my legs to work normally
I want to become art
I want to be plus sized
And I know so **** well it takes more
Than 21 days to break a habit
Because its been 48 and I'm still thinking of how much I ate
Last night
I felt pretty when I was hungry
Today I feel freaking beautiful because I
Am full
I am alive
I am me
I want to show the world I'm here
I'm big
And beautiful
I want to show
My starving sisters
That they need not starve
Anymore
I want to become art
A new form of art
A piece of art
That shows that you don't have
To be like that girl
Or that one
Or that one over there
You just need to be the most important thing of all
You
And that is the most beautiful thing of all.
A masterpiece
Stay strong
My starving sisters
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 3:05 PM UTC
Authors note; a different interpretation by ”In Just” by ee Cummings
The balloon man
He brings rainbow colored rubber
Larger than the sun
He limps up and down the sidewalk all day
Waiting for children to come and play
He always goes home at night
Much to parents’ delight
He dresses up all in black robes
Covering him in a cloud of ash-colored mist
Children see him and run to him
Grasping the string of his balloons
The tiredness leave their eyes
Their skin once a glowing tan
Turns to milk their eyes lifeless
Their bodies collapse to the grass
The balloon man leans down closing
The eyes of children near and far
”may you sleep now in peace little one... Forever” he whispers solemnly
He disappears riding away on the dark rain clouds filled with gallons of
the tears of mourning parents.
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 9:48 AM UTC
I could never live
Without my sight
Sight is a beautiful thing
That more often than not is
Taken for granted
At least in my opinion
There is so much beauty
In the world that I couldn't
Bear to never see again
Like a valentines day rose
Sitting idly in a vase the fragrance of it bringing forth
Happy memories
Or the loving brown eyes
Of my boyfriend his gaze
Sets my heart ablaze
Or the silent snow slowly
Falling against your window
Back in the harsh cold north
As you curl up watching anime
Or the wide smile of your best friend
Her smile unbroken despite the fact
Her back most definitely is
Or the yellow yolks of eggs.
The sight of them lets me know
I shall not go hungry for another day
Or the gray of an angry rain cloud
Hanging above my head the anger angst anguish and sadness
In them
These are just a few of the seemingly endless reasons
I couldn't live without my sight
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 11:38 AM UTC
Cinderella dances
Sleeping beauty sleeps
Disney takes over the world
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 2:13 PM UTC