This is just something else
echoing in my head,
for eternity.

The cuts you've bestowed
upon my soul left
an aching pain
that will last a
thousand life times.

Just another burden
I'll learn to bear,
another invisible scar
left by the love
of my life.

Yet still,
I'm amazed---
at the very essence of it --
I yearn for you.

In the midst of worldly tumult
Where troubles never cease,
I find my solace in the words
To attain a sense of inner peace.
Some seek refuge in a glass,
Or other fleeting thrills,
I wield my pen to extract my woes
And convert them into a quill.
For when my soul is torn apart,
And anguish grips my mind,
I turn to writing as my balm,
And solace I can find.
I wasn't born a poet,
But life has carved its way,
Into my heart, my mind, and my soul,
And left its marks to stay.
So I'll keep penning through the night,
My pain, my joy, my strife,
For every word that flows from me,
Is a celebration of life.

She wanted love so badly,
She let him treat her wrong,
Belittling her, hitting her,
She tried to be strong.

She thought she could change him,
That her love would make him see,
But his words cut like a knife,
Leaving her feeling empty.

She gave him chance after chance,
Hoping he'd see the light,
But he only took advantage,
Taking pleasure in her plight.

Her heart was shattered,
But she still held on,
Thinking love would conquer all,
Until the bitter end was drawn.

She finally found the strength,
To break free from his grasp,
Leaving behind the pain and hurt,
And starting anew at last.

She learned a valuable lesson,
That love shouldn't hurt this way,
And she vowed to never again,
Let someone treat her that way.

A daughter's love can be complex,
Especially when the past interjects.
A mother absent from her youth,
Leaves scars that run deep, and truth,
Can be hard to find amidst the pain,
That lingers on like an unwelcome stain.

But still, she loves her mother dear,
Despite the fights and tears each year.
For in her heart, a part remains,
That longs to ease her mother's pains.
To heal the wounds that still persist,
And build a bond that can't be missed.

It's not an easy road to take,
For trust and understanding are at stake.
But love can conquer all, they say,
And so this daughter hopes and prays,
That someday soon, they'll find a way,
To mend the past and start anew today.

For though the fights may come and go,
And though the scars may never show,
The love between a mother and daughter,
Is a bond that time cannot slaughter.
And so, she'll keep on loving, strong,
Hoping that their hearts will one day belong.

An evil heart, so full of hate, A mother blinded, with no escape, Her child but a pawn in her twisted game, A victim of her anger and shame.
She cared not for the life she bore, nor for the love, as she once swore; her only goal was to cause pain and strife, hurt her child's other parent even if it meant doing things that would mentally mess up her child for life.
She spoke lies and slander with no remorse, Her child caught in the middle, feeling the force, Of a mother's hate, so fierce and strong, Her actions causing harm all along.
Days turned into nights, and nights to years; as her child shed so many tears, Until one day, they could take no more and left feeling a relief like never before.
Regret and sorrow filled her soul, As she realized her hateful goal, Had caused her child so much pain, A loss she could never regain.
She vowed to change, make amends, and seek forgiveness from them, But it was too late; her child was gone, lost to a mother's hate, forever withdrawn.
Her evil deeds, now left to rot, her heart so dark, with a heavy knot, a lesson learned, too little too late, as she faced the truth of her fate.

It's not worth fighting with the fools,
Who lack the wisdom to understand,
Their minds closed off, like stubborn mules,
They won't comprehend, nor take a stand.

Their words are like poison, spreading hate,
Infecting the world with their small-minded views,
And in trying to reason, we only agitate,
Their stubborn hearts, and their ignorant fuse.

We could argue until the end of time,
But the stubbornness of fools won't be swayed,
Their blind ignorance a mountain to climb,
And our efforts, wasted, as we're dismayed.

It's not worth fighting with those who won't see,
The value of learning, of growth, and change,
For they'll forever be trapped in misery,
Their ignorance a shackle, their minds estranged.

So let us not waste our energy and breath,
On those who won't listen or comprehend,
Instead, let us move forward, and let's bequeath,
Our wisdom to those willing to transcend.

This is not how I thought I’d meet you, my son.
In your plastic bubble, I don’t feel like a mom.

Can’t hold you, or feed you, or rock you to sleep.
These are not the memories I expected to keep.

So quiet and fragile, “It’s my fault,” I weep.
Each night we go home with an empty car seat.

“Can I hold him?” I ask. She says, “You may soon, just not today.”
“Maybe tomorrow will be the day.”

Even though I only get to behold you for now,
It fills my life with bliss just to see you in sight.
Here, I patiently await to give you a kiss.

I cradle my pump until my body is dry,
Filling the freezer with my supply.

“Liquid gold,” they say, to help fix you.
Drink up, my sweet boy, it’s all I can do.

Amongst the fear, the hell, and the anguish,
There is light, a magic, and hope that all will be well.

Late at night, amidst tubes, the beeps, and the wires,
We form a bond that could start fires.

After seven days of life is the day I finally get to hold you—
So little and fragile, my emotions running wild,
I dare not take a breath, just in case it might hurt you.

Nurses whisper and sing you a sweet lullaby,
They hold my hand, “It’ll be okay, mama,” as I cry.

They touch you tenderly, you’re theirs on loan,
Filling you with love until you’re ready to come home.

When we finally leave, it’s bittersweet.
We’ll never forget those we meet.

I’ll never forget those sterile walls, hands washed raw,
I’ll hear the beeps long after leaving those halls.

Joy and nerves as we drive towards home,
We’ll be sure to tell you about your start in life, my sonshine.

One in seven need the help of the NICU—
I just didn’t think it would be you.

Don’t be fooled by the twinkle in her eyes;
Just like the stars, she is dying inside.

I needed you to stay, my heart needed a break from breaking.

Most days I’m okay because I know you aren’t suffering anymore, but it’s days like today when I need you the most that are the hardest for me.

I want to lay my head on your lap as you caress my hair and get lost in our conversations, one more time.

I miss you mom!

Storms in life don't break the strong they just chip away the superficial to reveal the true and better self in the end. Someone may have thought they were controlling you because it appeared you moved less but in the end it was just the cocoon until you broke out into a better self :)


For a while now she's been wondering what she could have possibly done to karmically deserve this. She has been racking her brain for months now trying to find that one act of selfishness, that one wrong deed so perverse the divine universe decided to send you as her punishment. But now, the fog has lifted, and her once hazy vision has grown clear. And for the first time in a long time she can see the truth -- the truth about people like you. Furthermore, she would just like to thank you... Thank you for using her, for taking advantage of a forward-thinking young woman to advance your own male interests. Thank you for stifling her passions, for making her give up everything she loved outside of you. Thank you for frightening her with your temper, for screaming at her, hitting her, and constantly reminding her that she was not valuable - she was replaceable. Thank you for making her feel small, for being so threatened by her intelligence you chose to unleash your active misogyny every opportunity that allowed. Thank you for making her witness injustices, for treating all those below you unfairly and for trying to silence her voice. Thank you for giving her a glimpse into the male psyche of a sociopath, and for reassuring her that objectification is one of the first steps to oppression. Thank you for showing her that she needed something else - a change - something greater than herself and far greater than you. Thank you for showing her that she deserved better. Because now, because of you, she is better than ever. Because of the manipulation, the discrimination, and the way you crushed her, she found a strength she never knew she had. And for that, she would like to thank you.



Sincerely,
Your Previous Punching Bag

-he said.
And she fell in love with a man who couldn't decide between hello and goodbye.

... I’m okay.

I have become as
.....h o l l o w
.......as the bottles I drink,
...............n u m b
.......as my cold fingers,
..e m p t y
..................as the inbox in my phone,
.....d i s o r i e n t e d
.............as this poem is written.

How much more naiveté
do I have to go through,
in order to realize?
Because I know I'm hurting,
yet I don't know how to explain the pain.

......Over, under, back and through
......No matter which way you put it
......These thoughts are always about 
  you.
......Trying to get you out of my head,
......Yet over, under, back and through
.......Here we go again,
.......What’s new?
.......Another sleepless night thinking about 
  you.

Some drink away their sorrows; I write away mine, exploiting the pain and declaring it as art. I wasn’t born a poet; I was broken into one.

In a drop of you, I lost an ocean of me.

In her broken mind, there was still hope; in her broken heart, there were still desires; and in her broken soul, she was still there...

I feel shattered in multiple ways, yet I try to persevere every day. I've grown bitter and isolated, fatigued by humanity, yet bound to it. So, I seek solace in solitary activities like dancing, playing, and immersing myself in nature, hoping the healing waves will wash over me. I am harsh on myself but hope that one day everything will fall into place harmoniously. I push myself harder to bring about change and find peace, no matter where I am. However, I don't seek sympathy, as I'm tired of the constant coming and going of people. Instead, I'd rather chase butterflies, crawl with lizards, climb with monkeys, and fly like birds—free of the need to impress or create for anyone.

God forgive me, I've wished not to exist too many times, but I won't take my own life because I believe it's cowardly. So, I'll face the ebb and flow of pain and peace, love and fear, and everything else life throws at me. I'm not running away, but I'll find my own quiet spot on a mountaintop to feel every day until I have no more days.

I've called myself insane, but I'm told that I'm loved through all the misery and shame. Break me a thousand times, God, if you need to, so that I may either be rebuilt into a glorious light or fade away like dust. Life is both a gift and a curse, as everything is temporary, and many of us are lost. We've collectively created this world of masks and shadows, false hope and deathly hallows, but there's more to it all.

I've glimpsed it in a dream, but it was just a passing scene. Now, these words I've typed will fade into history as a mystery, but they mean everything to me and nothing to you. At the end of it all, I don't know what I'm saying, as I'm using a language taught to me by other beings lost in this world of mystery. As a child, I couldn't speak, yet I felt everything. I long to return to where words don't exist, and the wind whispers calmness. I'll let go of the mental prison built over the years, allowing my imagination to soar, and always remember that I'm free to fly.

These tears on my ****** skin,
Tears from your ****** sins,
Tears from the words that won’t leave my mind.
Tears from what lies behind.

Deep cuts from within,
Deep cuts on my skin,
Deep cuts down my wrist.
Life is so brisk,
I like the risk.

They say, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones,'
But they're the ones who always had homes.
'Words will never hurt me,'
So why won’t those words stop replaying in my head and let me be?

Deep cuts on my thighs,
Deep cuts from your lies,
Cuts from what I've realized:
People are evil in my eyes.

Your words tore my heart, and I my skin.
It’s the only thing that alleviates the pain.
I felt it cut into my soul.
I reflect what you have said—your sins on my skin.

And baby you can pretend it doesn't bother you, go ahead and try to numb the pain intertwined with her. But you and I both know she'll never be enough for ya.

These words are combined in a line to express how I feel at this certain point in time. I'm in a realm of darkness where the sun doesn't shine, trying desperately to get out, but I feel like I'm leaving myself behind. I feel like I'm wasting time, but time is an illusion, and if that's true, then it took me no time to come up with that conclusion. I can't seem to grasp the concept of reality—if thoughts create my world, how in the world are they coming out of me? I guess I just live life to the beat of my own drum, 'cause I'd rather face the music than be fearful and run.

(gulp)

Couldn’t resist a minute more.

Relapse.

I again…

After six months sober...

Here.

In this pain I know all too well.

Ten years lost to this drug my veins ache for.

First breath in the morning and last thought at night, all consumed by it.

Every cell in me craves it.

That physical euphoria my body portraits.

Feels like someone has poured pure joy into every single muscle and fiber of my being.

It makes me feel so content

Every single bit of me is singing and buzzing with life and love.

It's like the ecstasy of *******— that first blissful, pleasurable pulsation of endorphins and serotonin.

This is what I feel when I first take LOVE.

And then...

And then, the honeymoon stage is over.

Fights erupt.

Never-ending debates.

Miscommunications.

Misperceptions.

No trust.

Accusations.

Lies.

“I’m done...”

…

Again, it feels like a part of my soul is leaving my body.

Again, sitting here numb.

A toxic love...

I’m addicted to,

And there’s no way around it.

It’s already deep intertwined with my veins.

Yet, no matter the toxic, tragic event that happened before, I sit here, and I want nothing more than to spend my life next to this soul.

To see his eyes unchanged as the skin around it wrinkles and grows old is what my heart will always desire— to stare at those eyes for the rest of eternity.

Dead air…


















So here I’ll wait, until you decided to come into my life again and repeat this déjà vu.

I found out two days ago that he's in a relationship with her. YES, HER! The one I poured my soul out to. The one I called a friend. The audacity.

I don't care that he's in a relationship at all; I don't. It's who he's with that bothers me. Not in the physical aspect of the whole thing, because she's inferior to me in that sense—lol, conceited much? But in the principle of the whole situation.

She has been in our relationship for the past year; she was there for me when things were falling apart, helping me pick up the pieces.

Honestly, I've spent so much energy on this over the past two days; I'm exhausted. I've tried to wrap my head around the whole situation. The end result is FISH.  (**** It **** Happens)

Can we just hop on a train and go somewhere where we don't know the end destination? Right now, this very moment. No thoughts, no second-guessing, no packing, no questions asked. Let's just go and go and go and go. Late nights, early mornings, and long afternoons with no plans—just the blissful taste of random, spontaneous life. Life without responsibilities and reliability. Without lifelong goals, dreams, and expectations. Life without bills and internships to get to that job, to get to that job, to get to that job. Life without insurance. Life without the question of life without.

Let's just hop on a train, right here, right now, this very moment. Don't question me, because if you do, I'll back out immediately—I know it.

Remember when you first fell in love? What colors did you see? An explosion of ecstasy in the form of chromotherapy?❤️

Such a deceiving embrace, like pine trees with white pine blister rust. Disguised as love, only to find out it was lust. Be careful, my dear; butterflies can sometimes be wasps.