I got addicted
to your strong
jaw
drowned in the
deepness of your voice
drunk on your lips
and now you're
distant...

And
distant is the
worst way
to be

Everything's
all ****** and
I just need your
arms.

But I feel like
during the
time we talked
and saw each
other
was just the
tide coming in
for the last
time.
And as the
moon pulls you
away from
me I have
nothing to do
but think of
what I did
wrong and sip
on some
captain Jerry
hoping she'll
pull my drunk
*** a favor
and bring
you back.

I floated in you as
we ran and you held me
against the wall
and I was very inside
your arms, I was
in you.

He came down as we got
high. You had me on
lock down because I
ran through the basement
and you couldn't keep up
very well. As they questioned
my ability to keep running
as my lips stuck to my teeth.

Staring at you across the room
your eyes raked my body
and your knees shaked.
I'm pretty sure you bit your
lip and stared at me
for awhile.

I was tripping in the hallway when
you came out.
The wall was liquid
and I was painting
with it.
I'm friends with your kind
of ex girlfriend
and I want to feel her
skin against mine.
I want her bones to
grind with me.
And I know I'm very ******
up right now.
But I'm floating in a crowd
and somehow I'm holding
my bladder down.
I am air
and nothing can touch me.

I have to be the image of
perfection soon.
So help me god,
I am no where near
having a halo.

Darling
You didn't put out my flame
it's still here
licking down to my hands
to burn the people
who maim

But that's not the point of my
words today

Today
I'm trying to tell you
that I'm still burning bright
Only because of you
Because that's what you told
Me to do.

I told you
I'm standing in dried concrete
and I swore
I won't move

You replied with "Nice anatomy"
And we laughed our ***** off
because the word 'analogy' failed to
come out of your mouth.

We sat on the back
of your moms car and
stared at the stars

We danced outside
to some stupid song
as the sun slowly came up

Sam
My hurricane
You twirl dangerously
and you spin carelessly
You move out of other peoples way
straight into
destruction.
Because you'd rather
hurt yourself
than mistakenly harm another.

And Sam
My darling.
you deserve much more,
than you've set yourself up for.

Your life is reckless
and dangerous
And honestly,
some of the decisions are pretty stupid.

I'm not one to talk,
But we can be pretty **** sure,
that the good die young.
So long live the reckless and the brave.

'Cause I'm still burning bright.
And some day
I'll write a book
Titled 'My Hurricane'
Talking about those nights.
The ones that kept us both alive.

Well you see,
my skin melted
into a lot of things
last summer. Even my
bones mixed with a
few.

The fact that everything
became a liquid river
passing around my ankles
didn't help.
Time became a
cloud that a giant
walks through on his
way to get food.

My stomach and head
got a little sea-sick on
this voyage. Their ears
never really popped from
this altitude.
My body shivered from
the OD.
My skin burned and
melted with him.
Trees grabbed my
hair, leaves stained my
cheeks.

I had rotten skin
for bones and cracked
ribcages for flesh.
The rivers were
fire and the fish
rocks of ice.
A beast by my side
through hellfire.
Her eyes were marbles.
Her flesh cracked glass.
Her hands were iseicles.
Ripped tendons looking like
dreads hanging from her
head.

But this is only how she
looked in Neverland.
In my geometry class
you never would of guessed
she bent time around her
fingers, squished it into liquid,
painted her nails with it.

Everything is liquid with
her.
She could turn you into
fine wine or a **** stain
on the pants of a scared
kindergartner.

Walking into her house
the walls are mallible
black fur.
They'll nick your change
out of your pockets.
One time it ******
her dad into it.
She said he hasn't
emerged in 5 days.
"He's changed." She says.
"He said it's a way
to Neverland but, mom
says he comes home smelling
like Narnia." She whispered.

They had eyes. The walls.
I could hear them
churning. Black liquid that
gurgled and popped like
an exploding guinea pig
in the microwave.
The fur moved like legs
on a centipede.

Everything got mixed
up and colors stopped looking
the same.

I stayed over at her
house one night,
and I swear to
God faries came.

They called my
beast a pirate.
Said she's been
off duty too
long.
They thought I
was asleep.
In the morning
we walked out
her door and we
fell into the sky.
We fell through
time.
The world became
white and black.

We landed in the
ocean, emerging
through the sand.
She became a
new kind of being.
Her eyes were 8-*****.
Hair, blue fire,
and her skin was
moving black smoke.

She said I looked like
something she could
get addicted to.

One night I found
my hand melted in
her hair,
my hip bones
became Lego pieces stuck
to hers.
Fingers mashed in
places they couldn't
be seen.
Her eyes kept answering
my question of "should
I keep going" with
"**** yes". Her mouth
stretched smoke that
you could lose your mind
in.
Her body a maze
that I couldn't wait
to figure out.
We grew gills
and kept
breathing each other
in.

She said it was
a solstice one night
as we got lost in
seaweed.
I asked her what
that meant.
Before I knew
it, the ocean
****** us up
and the sky
spit us out and
we fell with the
rain. We were hail
being delivered with
drumrolling thunder
and lightning.

We didn't return
to "Earthly" beings.
We stayed in the
flooded streets, gills
still only needing
the other.

She said
she had to return
to Neverland,
but she wasn't sure
if I could go.

We'd find out soon
enough.
Just how,
do we get there?
She pointed to a sky
scraper.
Her see through
fingers found my skin.
She said my eyes looked
like black holes, my skin
had the milkyway trapped
beneath it.

Hopping from rain drop
to rain drop we got to
the top of that building.

We had to wait until
sunrise.
She told me the grass
is smooth like
the seaweed where
we're going.

That my blood would
look like northern
lights.
My mundane mind
wouldn't exist, I
wouldn't feel dead
anymore.
She said we'd be like
Bonnie and Clyde.

When the sun peeked
at our side of the earth
she told me
I might not pass through.
She said that might
be her case too.

She said we'd find Neverland
if we jumped off of that
building.
But all we found was our
bones infused in the concrete.

When I smell nicotine
I think of her,
and I think it's kind
of funny her nickname's
Nikki.

Men thought of her
as half smoked stogies
they can get a buzz from
and just flick away.
Her mind set was,
if they decided to abuse
her, hey, it's not her
that's gonna end up getting
lung cancer.

But really I shouldn't be comparing
this woman to cigarettes.
She's more exotic than any
American spirit or
no. 27 that you could find.
She's straight, she swears
but she ground her hips
against mine just as fine
as she grinds her ****.
My lips were attached to her neck
and when we switched spots
she laughed as my moans echoed out
the open window.

Now this woman. She has the highest
level of confidence
or self-esteem I have ever seen.
But she could shrink her
waist in a week
if someone commented
on how skinny I was.
She's had her body held in a cage,
but they couldn't tame her.
She's not afraid of anything.
Not with her chinked eyes,
or methed out shake,
I don't think you can intimidate
someone after they've had
a gun held to their face.

She deserves so much more
then she has been giving herself.
So when I smell nicotine I try to place
the memories of the flavor in my mouth
on us trying to cover up the **** smell.
Her memory shouldn't be brought up
by the smell of a cancer stick.
But then again,
She's just as deadly as one.

I am nothing new
just another small
girl with a big
mouth.
Just another blonde
with a loud music taste.
Just another **** that
you don't allow to shut
her legs.
Another shrinking woman
squeezing her waist
begging the number to
go down.

I am nothing new
chained to the floor
some force pushing
the toothbrush farther
down my throat.
Gagging, reeling.
Falling deeper.
Enslaved to an
eternal hunger.
Hating myself is
what I do best.
And I am nothing new.

Fall in love
with the way he touches you.
Because you know there
are centuries of love songs
and lonely nights
and soft kisses
in that touch.
You know there are months full
of pain
and hatred
and hot rage
in that touch.
And as his finger
tips burn you
fall in love with the
scars it'll leave
behind.

Fall in love with the
way his lips feel
like cracked pavement.
Fall in love with the
way his hands are
calloused.
Fall in love with the
scratches on his skin
from when he fell down
off the half
pipe.

He is like sleeping
on a rock hard floor
and you just get so
comfortable you don't
realize there are
rocks sticking into your
back.

He is an itchy sweater
you wear anyway
because it keeps you warm
and you forget it scratches your skin.

His ripped up jeans
******* video game
assassin's creed
tattoo.
Fall in love with the way his
eyes are empty
but his hands
are always near.

Fall in love with the
silence he leaves you
with. Fall in love
with the emptiness.
Fall in love with
how he calls you
babe.
    Fall in love with
his everything.
    Fall in love with the
way you finally feel
content and faithful.

Fall in love with the
weird way you love
each other.

I'm supposed to be an artist.
I'm supposed to be a writer.
Everything that has happened to
me I have taken
and made it kiss my *******
***.
But this I can not make into
art.

I can not take this memory
and deface it with my hate
and pain.
I did this to myself.
This was a decision I made,
sat in the shower,
and cried for so many
hours thinking about.
This was not forced upon me.
But with her expected
delivery date arriving,
I want to make this some
beautiful piece I can
look back on.

Not cold hands and instruments
put inside my body
pushing and pulling.
I can not make this art.
Staring at the clock and
watching the seconds tick
by to distract myself from
the pain.

I can not count seconds
to forget her now.
I can not count hours
To forget the suction sound.
I just...
I can not.
Make this art.

The reality of my abortion
it too cold and hard
and real
to make this into metaphors,
into some abstract
piece about how life
was taken out of me.

I didn't cry that day.
I didn't cry that week.
But when out of habit I went
to rub my stomach
I flinched. Pluto was gone.

I could feel her sweetness
and strength. I could feel
that I was not ready for
such a strong love,
I was not ready to look
my child in the eyes
and know that I could not
take care of her.

I want to honor her memory
for the strength that she has
passed on to me.
I named her Pluto for she was
such a small planet to me.
A sweet companion to guide
me through the pain that I was
enduring.

I don't think I was supposed
to have her.
I like to think that her
purpose was to make me
stronger. To make me a better
person.

I haven't dropped out of high
school yet because I want a good
life for any child I decide
to care for. I haven't ended my
life yet because
then her's would be a waste.

She grew inside of me for 3 months.
Caused me some intense nausea
and cramps.
She was strong, and bowed down for
no one, stretching my body apart.

I cry for her often.
And I don't believe in much.
But I know in whatever after life
or reincarnation that I may have,
I will see her again.
I will hold her someday.

But for now, getting a tattoo
of my little planet
in the palm of my hand will
have to do.
She had a beautiful soul,
a beautiful burning will.

Maybe I can make this art.
Maybe I can make her smile
knowing that I will always love her.

Boom!
White light,
you plummet,
feel the cold air
of a fresh start.
Limbs not in your control,
you think it's a critical
hit, not able to speak
barely any motor skills.

You think it starts to rain,
water on the battlefield
washing off your blood,
wrapping you in nature's embrace.
Warm like an incubator,
keeping you warm and safe,
your eyes sliding closed.

Boom!
White light,
you plummet,
leaving the warmness
of the explosion
you cry out in confusion.
Doctor taking you in his arms,
you think you fell asleep
somewhere between here and there,
feel limbo hanging in the air.

Boom!*
Another flash of light
in your new eyes
sounds ringing through
your new ears,
they're counting your toes
and fingers,
seeing how much you weigh.
Swaddled you are given to
mother nature once again,
3 explosions,
you're dead,
and born again.

We will leave you in the midst
of a poetic truce, as you spill
experiences into our open palms.

Writing to make sense of what
has happened, nestling your
deepest secrets in our fingertips.

Our roots so deep in our poetry,
if you tried to unearth us, we would
shriek louder than banshee's.

Unravel our words, enter the
labyrinth of our minds, there are
sunsets in our stomachs, and
December runs through our veins.

We are the stars to your blank skies,
the pause between each ragged breath,
the tragedy suffocating the air.

We are the pause before the applause.
We are rarity's like Haley's comet
making you scramble for a telescope.

Only crows writhing with broken
necks are more twisted than the life
stories resting under our tongues.

We are poets, engraved in history,
fluent in all that is artistic and worldly.

Poetry a warm blanket we remain
hidden in on a cold winter morning.
Reality is a cold floor that our
bare feet are too scared to touch.

*By JannaLee Perry and Rapunzel

Like worms in the pit of
apples there are maggots
in the pit of my veins.

I am fossil fuel and
I'll run out eventually.
You can't depend on me.
   My skin is a monument
   and I am slowly chipping
   away.

Every lake is Elaura's
but they're still puddles
grass as tall as trees.
   Vines digging through
my cochlea, swishing the
liquid and I swear I
hear god coming.

The nineteenth you kissed
me. She was in your mind
all night and you stayed with
the man who declared me
"Mine."

My skin is crawling of nightmares.
and my eyes have spiderwebs
in them. Cobwebs of dead love
growing on my eyelashes.
   Don't expect me to cry.
   My tears are just dew
   on the grass above my
   grave.
     My tears are just acid
     rain decaying my memory.

The sharpie we swear
will stay decays under
my nails.

"I didn't try to **** myself."
    I'm out in four days.
"I was just ******."
    And these burns mean nothing.
I lie so often I don't know
what honesty means.
    I read it backwards
    spell it with an "A"
and now honesty just means
    a complicated puzzle and
    a kindergarten mind.

My veins are so twisted
I don't even know if they
pump blood right.

I don't really think I'm
alive.

He said he no longer knows
the person who wears my
mask of a face.
   The bones are ripping through,
   and I feel Jekyll coming out
   of Hyde.

I'll fall off cliffs and land
in lava before you work out
the knots of tree branches
in my joints.

   My tendons are worms
and my bones are cracked concrete
that you can't fix by pouring
more in me.

It tastes worse than brick
going into my lungs but I
stick it there
like a lock and moan
as it pierces my heart
and breaks a few ribs.
   Because it's smoke.
   I asked for the pain
   and enjoyed all three
   ****** of sharks puncturing
my arteries.
  
My heart is metal
but you still short
circuit
my mother board and
I swear this ship is
going down.

Let's make it the Titanic.
or maybe Romeo and Juliet.
Have people romanticize our
tragedy.

Then I'll smile through
my tears.
   Maybe we can bow during
   the standing ovation too.

If the eyes are the gateway
to the soul, then I have
seen hell fire, and the
lights of heaven.

He claims me to be an
angel but I don't think he
sees the murky water full
of my pollution in my entire
being.
Eyes looking like a sea during
a storm.
So how can he claim me to
be so calm.
I am a life raft being
crushed under my own chaotic
waves of temper.

My body feels as
if it lives on a slab. How
can you claim that I am
so alive.

I will not deny that I am
strong. To a degree.
I will not claim to be a
lamb asking for more people
to try and butcher me.
Only rabid beasts
feed because there is meat.

They say my sweet blood
attracts mosquitos.
My rotten flesh attracts
maggots.
My short dress attracts the
monster.
Feeding on flesh they
strip away from my bones
with their teeth.

The cobra of my nightmares
loved to toy with me. I was
not a meal. I was play time.
He loved to watch me squirm.

He locked me away in a box
of secrets, of bruises, and
stolen virginities.
You can't lie down with the
enemy without getting *****.
I am still drawn to the
smell of his poison. I once
mistook it for home.
I got choked up on his
fumes of arrogance.
The *******
intended to **** me.
But he only freed
who I was meant
to be, a bit too soon.

I crumbled. I
wasn't in ruins for
long though. Like a much
needed bridge, I was
rebuilt quickly. Only to
extend my usage time.
Though, unlike the engineers
I learned.
  I used stronger materials.
  Dark methods no one would
  attempt to undo to get a
  snip of my wool.
  I became a goat instead.
A symbol of the unholy.
I thought it was
fitting, seeing how you
injected me with that
exact same thing.

You didn't feed it to
me, make me drink it,
or force it upon me.
you only planted it.
I watered it.
I watered
the being I was
to the point of
drowning.

You injected it like
a serum to fix my
paralyzed state.
Like a ******
addict absorbs their
dope in hopes they
actually see god this
time.

Unlike his brother,
I don't need opiates
to feel at home.
In jesus's arms.
All I have to do is
look in his eyes.

They're still bright.
Still...
I had a friend, when my
eyes were lightning.
He told me to burn
bright.
But you see,
I'm not very good at
listening.

I've used up that flame
to build my body, ground-up
with day dreams I was a phoenix.
I am vibrations
lost on the
decibel scale.
Screams stuck in
ears of the dead.
The tortured only
enduring what they
fought for.
We all knew what was
at risk
choosing this life.
I'm always gambling
my freedom.
Funny how we throw away
things we only lusted
after.
Especially when they get
boring, decayed in place.
Now what's really
tedious is when lost
dreams rot in your
brain like inoperable
cavities.

She smelled like
regret and heart
break.
Cigarette smoke
drifting from
her breath
and I had to
get caught on
her everything
giving me a
nicotine addiction.

Now, I think my pale
skin and boney body
might be misleading.
When I say 'feel me'
I don't mean caress me
with the hairs on your
knuckles, afraid
your fist might break
my brittle bones.

Now, when I say feel me,
I mean leave imprints of
your nails and handprints
all over my body.
Mark me up like a little kid
tears up mud
trying to make art.
Get messy and tangle my hair.
Pick me up, and throw me on the bed.
Make me fear gravity and
laugh as I land hard, your
body lands harder on top of me.

Don't massage my back,
rather arch it and snap
my neck back
as you pull my hair harder
than any horse rein.
Shove my face into the pillows
trying to make me be quiet.
Smack me so hard you leave
fingerprints claiming me yours.
Put me on counters anywhere,
sinks in abandoned bathrooms.
Take me to concerts and have
me compete in the back with the
screaming fans.

Give me carpet burn in every place
possible, more bruises than I can count.
Rip my clothes, trust me, I didn't
spend much on them.
Worship each part of my body
and make it yours.
Have me do the same
and make
me
yours.

I may be small.
But there is a fire in my chest.
I don't think you've
tested the heat yet.
Just...
I hope you brought burn cream.

We stand on tonight
with adrenaline running
in our veins
   Taking pictures,
   videos
capturing every moment
   to make sure we don't
forget this.
   Because we take tabs of
acid outside McDonald's
and venture to some park.

The trees become the air
and my skin is liquid
vibrating through your
bones.
   Playgrounds and swing sets
become home.
   Truth or dare's muttered
from closed lips.

And then it's him.
With his nicknames for
everything. I am his
crazy little girl.
   That alone "I am his"
   has my stomach tumbling
   like tumble ****.
I find him at a gas
station.
Then I find myself
in his van and
we're on a road
trip to the edge of
the world.

We are as fluid as
the blood in my veins
   walking through the
   gate to sins. *****
   is in my hand.
"**** it" whispered in my
   ear
and trust me. I chugged the *****.
  Like water,
    But they said they
    had sympathy burns
    in their chest.

We lit the world on fire.
   Called it a challenge.
Begged the world to be
as stupid as us to light
our hands on fire.
  Trying to touch
     the end before
we're really there.

We stood on the night
opening cans with our
teeth.
  Whiskey on our taste
  buds.

She held my hand and I
could feel her insides shiver.
   My veins were on fire
   and I could feel them
   twist around each other
   like grapevines trying to
   help me grow into
   something better.

We stood on top of last
night.
Had it on the ground
in a choke hold.
Sat on it's back
  Pulling it's hair.
The ground was ours
to walk on and I
swear I was real.

I was in my skin
and saw through my eyes.
I felt my own flesh
burn.
    And I promise you
    I breathed air through
    my own lungs.
    I touched everyone
    with my own finger
    tips.

People were art
   and I was a
   deaf student
   with eyesight as
   a feast.
Your personalities are
   entrees and all I want
   is to have a taste.

   You are all books.
   And I have had
   thirst for your words
   since birth.

Tonight is the end
of my world.
And I will make
peace with loose ends.
  But I promise you
  there will be more
  threads than when
I started this quest.

But my insides run with
liquids I don't understand.
Bittersweet honey runs from
my eyes when I cry.
    My sweat is
    sickeningly salty
and my blood does not
run red. It is sugar
tore from a cinnamon
bun between your teeth.

Tonight I am inside my
head and I am
   real.
   Let me discover
what my brain whispers
in the dark when
I'm alone.

How do my knees quake
   when I'm scared?

You say you love
   me so well.

What do you love?
Because it's a road
trip to the edge of
the world.

I have grown into my skin
and I don't think you
know what I feel like full.
I have been empty and
gone.

But tonight I'm here.

I stand on tonight
   and I am here.
I am alive.
  and I am your crazy
   little girl.

Fall in love with the way
air encases you in this embrace
of "I'll keep you alive".
Fall in love with the way
nicotine stains your tongue
Fall in love with the way
alcohol makes you numb.
Fallin love with the way
that you have to risk
everything to be happy.
Because if you aren't
on the verge of death, you
don't fall in love.
If You aren't on the
verge of death, you
don't feel alive.
If you don't see
"the light" you feel
like you're blind.

Fall in love with
heart break.
Fall in love with
your rumbling stomach
fallin love with
thunder clouds.
Fall in love with
danger and heart
attacks, fall in love
with pain.

Fall in love with the
way you waster your
sanity for the sake
of living.
Fall in love with
the wind.
Fall in love
with the grass.
Fall in love with
the sun,
and the snow.
Fall in love with
a terrible artist
fall in love with
a terrible person
and fall in love
with the way
their love burns.
Fall in love with
the way everything
is awkward
and nothing makes
sense.
Fall in love with
stupidity fall in
love with intelligence.
Fall in love with
the things you
hate.
Fall in love with
really stupid sappy
poems that writes
block has written.
Fall in
love with this poem.

Come back already **** Face.

We organize our
lives into lines
when we are fluid.

We cry and cling
"accept me."

We exist backwards.
We are explosive beings.
Trying to contain our
essance into bottles
when we alone are
galaxies.
   Our mind's a
   universe of it's
   own.
We are like a song
  trying to tie itself
    into 3 minutes
      long.
When really
   we are the overflowing
   water in a bathtub
   you wish you really could of kept.
Because we
are the last few
minutes of the remix.

We are the best.

Its insane how many
memories can be held in
a park.
Or even the
library it's attached
to.
And the McDonalds down
the road.
A couple basements
in one apartment
complex. A couple
basements in another.
The hallway where
your friend used
to live. A concrete
platform.
A couple muddy short cuts.
The gas station across the
street you stole a
30 pack of beer from
and ran here to drink it.
Oh god.
All the times you've
gotten drunk here.
All the times
you ****** in cars here.
You rolled a joint here
once too.
The Walmart over
there where
you got arrested.
That roof top over there.
When you snuck onto elementary
school grounds. That forest
you got high in and couldn't
find your way back home. The
streets you prowled
and made yours
trying to feel alive.

I wish I had enough
time to tell you
why the world is
so cruel.
Or, hell, even enough
words.
Maybe even enough
experience with its
cruelty.

We were all born
innocent.
What turned us
into monsters?
What turned us
into wolves that
nip at lambs.
Their cotton
wool now stuck between
our teeth.

Is it because we
Don't floss enough
And there are
now dead memories
mashed in our
mandibles.
Were our canine
teeth not cut
down soon enough
when we were young.
Did they give me
glasses too soon?
Is that why
I'm still so
blind to the
traps I keep
walking in?

Maybe if they
had waited until
3rd grade instead
of 2nd I'd have
a sense of the
hairs
on the back of my
neck rising.

Maybe I'd have
a sense of danger
instead of giggling
as I fall off cliffs.

You get older not with
time but experience.
Or so I've heard.
I've heard that if
you have enough
memories people will
call you old.

Who the hell gave
memories so much
power.

Who allowed memories
from just a bottle
cap to break down my
walls like they were
fiber glass in winter.

I'm not a glass doll.
So why am I chipping.
Why are my insides
cracking and outsides
freezing in place.

Who gave him the
power to put life
inside of me, and
then decide that
I was too much.

Who let him
play God?

He is beer and
behind the library.
He is cut fingers
muddy knees
bruised knuckles.
Sore necks.
Sore muscles.
He is this ring
The hoodie at home.
The back ground
music to us
*******. He is that
**** van, taco bell
and his dad's wrecked
tourus.
The hand I held
as my knees knocked.

He's the one who's
always been there.

Nobody has ever
made me feel so
full and contempt.

I think of myself
as a scavenger. A
voulture, but I feed off
The living because I
fear I am already
dead.

He made me feel alive.

Now tell me who let
him play God.

Monsters in your diaphragm
you scream out your rhymes so loud
trying to find a spell
strong enough that will
expel these hiccups
putting spaces in your words.

Tying your tongue up in knots
writer's block has got you hooked
up to an IV flowing creativity.

Like a ****** addict
trying to forget the screams.
IV pumping fluid into his
veins repressing the memories.
Trying to dig them into the mud
but you see when you do that
they just harden over time
get stuck in your memory
like scars on the suicidal
mental patient trying to cut
her jugular.

See I've been to a mental hospital.
You share secrets of how the wet
towels give you friction burns and
leave scars deeper than
your nails can.
Like on the transgender girl,
Staff referring to her with her
former pronoun,
I swear I've never see a deeper
mental breakdown.

They all regret everything they've seen.
hid what happened to them deep inside.
But let me tell you.
I've been *****.
It wasn't in a dark alley,
I wasn't hog-tied and no gun
was held to my head.
But it was just as
traumatizing. I know that the way
he took my body and made it his
was wrong. But his abuse is mine.
What he did to me is mine.
I can hold the anger I have in my hand,
squish it like play dough. I can
shape it into a knife and stab him
deeper than he injected me with
his controllingness.

Moral of this ****** up poem
is to let it out. Understand that ****
happens and it ******* *****
and none of it was your fault.
But do not let it control you.
The situation held you in bounds for
as long as it could.
Do not stay with your hands behind
your back just because you're scared
the handcuffs are still there.
You can take the memories so deep in
your mind and make them cement
underneath your feet
as ground to stand on.
Grow bigger than you ever have.
And let your abuser know it's because
they broke you.
You just fixed your bones with
titanium, and now they can't touch you.

I just got in a wreck
and I am
so
*******
happy to be alive.

Ella Bella