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LN Jan 7
Weaving sorrows into poetry
so the words could stitch me up,
for the memories are broken
and wisdom is all ****** up,

Drenching inked papers
in the hues of anguish,
listening to the thunder of words
that makes me want to vanish,

My knuckles are ******
from punching the walls,
for I can't scream back without breaking
to their ignominious calls,

I sit here with tears,
writing poetry out of trauma,
waiting for justice to show up
in a force called karma.
the people we love the most, hurt us the most....they often make fun of our biggest insecurity, make us try to hate ourselves such that we can fit in moulds they want to see us in, say those unknown triggers that tick the self-hate bomb inside us, that push us back into the dark we try so desperately to come out of ....and yet we go on loving them for we are so much because of them..... broken, traumatized, wise, poets....all becasue of them
LN Jun 2020
See for yourself
As the beauty bleeds blue,
The spark long gone
From the gaze lingering on you.
Her smile doesn't touch
Her eyes that once twinkled
As she pastes it on to pretend
On a face bruised and wrinkled.
"I'm happy" She says,
Filling the world with her excuses
While she pulls on her sleeves
Enough to cover her bruises.
A low groan settles
In the depth of her throat
Recalling the horrors
Of being used and left to rot.
"Reminders" She calls them
The blank "I love yous" She gets to hear
Of the man that you are
And the pain she has to bear
Yet she keeps mum
For the small reminders in her head,
Smiling at the monster
That lives on her bed.
This is about domestic violence.
It really breaks my heart how even after so many fights and revolutions to empower women and humanity, we stand at square one where domestic violence is still very much prevalent in the society.
  Jan 2020 LN
Emily
I always thought we were the perfect match.
But matches are meant
                                   to ignite
                                         and burn out.
  Dec 2019 LN
Sophia
" Cut yourself"

Just a cut
Just a scratch
"What's that mark?"
"It was the cat."
Just an excuse
Just a lie
"What's with all the bracelets?"
" Just fashion, why?"
Just a tear
Just a scream
" Why were you crying?"
"Just a bad dream."
But it's not just a cut, or a tear, or a lie
It's 'just one more' until you die
this poem is about me
LN Sep 2019
Happy moments
And Crazy lives ,
Cheerful days
And never ending nights,
Glittery eyes
And painted skies.

I hold onto them as strong as I can
I hold onto the skies and the friends and the man
For I know when I'll no longer see the dark
This all will fade away
Nd there won't even be a mark.
Dreams and fantasies make me a different person...... And when they break...... I come back to my bruised self to cry.
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