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Mary Huxley Oct 16
I'm scared to look in the mirror,
My reflection saddens me,
I don't feel pretty anymore,
The more I grow, the more I realize my insecurities.
I hide myself from the world,
It pains, it hurts.
What can I do?
My scars are internal,
But they show on my face.
Every day is a battle of comparison
Between myself and the pretty folks.
Maybe one day I'll sing the beauty melody...
Mary Huxley Oct 12
He doesn’t look at me the way he used to,
Like the stars have dimmed in his eyes.
His hands once held me like I was the moon,
But now they hang cold, untied.
His laughter used to fill the room with warmth,
Now silence lingers, heavy as stone,
And in that quiet, I feel him slipping,
Drifting away, leaving me alone.

I see the way he talks, so distant now,
His words once sweet, now just routine.
He’s here, but not really, and it hurts somehow,
Like we’ve turned into what we’ve never been.
I try to find us in the spaces between,
In the pauses where love used to hide.
But each time I reach, I fall empty again,
Lost in the hollow where love once thrived.

I ask him what changed, but he never replies,
Just shrugs, like love is something that fades.
And though I’m here, still holding on tight,
I can feel myself slowly unbraid.
For love isn’t something you force to remain,
It breathes, it grows, or it dies.
And in his silence, I hear our goodbye,
In his fading touch, I feel love’s demise.
Mary Huxley Aug 26
They hate us,  
Yes, they despise us,  
They copy us,  
They want to be like us,  
They can’t stand when we breathe.  

I know you are wondering who “they” might be,  
But I’ll tell you what “they” do to us:  
They have stolen and are still stealing our identity.  
They **** us, oppress us, and take our hard-earned positions.  

To them, we are just objects,  
Goods of no value.  
When they bark, they expect us to respond.  
They have caged us, taken the very little freedom we had.  
They don’t care about us.  

When will they leave us alone?
This poem is inspired by what women endure, on day to day basis,.
Its sickening and sad.
"Why do they hate us"
Mary Huxley Aug 26
In shadows deep, where whispers fade,  
Behind the walls, the women pray.  
Their dreams are bound in chains of fear,  
In lands where hope can't find its way.

A world that stifles every voice,  
Their cries of pain, without a choice.  
Beneath the veils, their stories hide,  
Silent tears they cannot show with pride.

For freedom's price is far too steep,  
A life where courage dares not speak.  
Each step they take, with cautious tread,  
In lands where even thoughts are bled.

Their wings are clipped by heavy laws,  
Yet still, they rise—despite the scars.  
With hearts of fire, unbroken will,  
Though pain runs deep, they're standing still.

In every glance, in every tear,  
Resilience grows where hate draws near.  
In the silence, strength is found—  
Women rise without a sound.

For even in the darkest night,  
They hold within a spark of light.  
No chain can hold what’s meant to soar,  
A flame that fights forevermore.
Mary Huxley Aug 26
They walk in shadows cloaked in pride,  
With fists clenched tight and eyes turned wide,  
Their words like chains, so hard, so cold,  
Bending wills, as stories unfold.  

They claim dominion over our grace,  
Silencing voices, erasing a face.  
What power feeds this hunger deep,  
That in our tears, their demons sleep?  

To them, we’re vessels, tools, and means,  
Yet fragile hearts wear warrior’s sheen.  
They crush with deeds, they carve with hate,  
Unleashing darkness at heaven’s gate.  

How cruel the hand that wounds and maims,  
That calls love power, masked in shame.  
How can a world still turn its eye,  
When every scream’s a whispered cry?  

They fear our strength, our rise, our fire,  
So they chain our souls to quench desire.  
But we are oceans, wild and deep—  
Rising tides they cannot keep.  

In silent wars, we fight to breathe,  
With every bruise, our spirits seethe.  
Yet even when they draw their line,  
They’ll never steal what’s truly mine.  

For in these scars, our voices rise—  
No more the prey, no more disguise.  
Though fear may reign, though shadows fall,  
We stand together—unbreakable, all.
This poem expresses the pain and struggle many women face but also highlights the resilience and strength within them.
Mary Huxley Aug 25
Even in sadness I still think about you,
In the midst of the storm I still find warmth in you,
I can't fathom how much broken you left me,
I remember when you said I was your peace,
And now I can't find myself in this chaos,
Who do I run to,
Who do I cry to,
When you the only one my heart beat for.
Mary Huxley Aug 25
In love with every version of me,
Every character that grew within me,
They call it trauma, the scars we bear,
Each chapter a story, each burden we share.

Eyes seek solace in the depths of the soul,
A journey of healing, making broken parts whole.
Words like whispers, echoes of the past,
In the tapestry of life, memories amassed.

So here's a tale of strength and grace,
In loving our whole, finding our place.
In the symphony of selves, scars turned to art,
Embracing every fragment, a journey of the heart.
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