Poet Veins: Poems

Bad father

Poet Veins May 2020

Here's to the girls
Who are mirrors ,
Shattered and broken.
Reflections of abuse
Vulgur words.
Disrespect.
Here's to the girls
Who believe they are nothing
Because they were told they were nothing
By him.
Here's to girls who don't believe in love
Because of the bruises on their mothers face
Perfectly painted in shades of blue and black
By him.
Here's to you , in pieces , with hope as useful as a broken birds wing .
Here's to you ,still surviving.
Here's to you , undoubtedly ,
Strong.

Bee stings

Poet Veins May 2020

Bee stings

Sometimes I find myself
in our bitter sweet memories.
They sting with every smile.
Just like Bees ,
Sting for their defnse.
I am protected ,
From going back.
Back to you ,
Back to crying uncontrollably
Back to being unworthy.
Back to being nothing .

clouds of pain

Poet Veins May 2020

clouds of pain

The sky ,my canvas of blue .
Clear ,not a single cloud of worry.
How awful it must feel,
To be covered by shades of grey
And loud thunder
Blocking out everything you love ,
Every word , every scream,
Supressed rage like knives of ice ,
Putting out the fire of everything you love ,
Hope
Wish
Dream.
Burning desires
Now, only flowing rivers of sorrow .
Nothing left but smoke
That condenses into tears.

love by sickness

Poet Veins May 2020

love by sickness

Like a plague ,
You slowly **** me ,
Weaken me .
Attacking my lungs, fragile.
Vulnerable, warm burning desires of love, love for you alone.
Like a plague you take over.
Killing every flame.
Taking my breath ,calling it yours.
You have the power over
my breath.
I am controlled by you.
By a sickness ,
We call love.

The painting of rape.

Poet Veins Jun 2020

The painting of ****.

All my childhood years, I wished
That I was barbie.
The prettiest doll you'd find in any store ,
If only I knew ,
I was a toy in your eyes ,
I would have wished for something different.

You think you're an artist ,
And my body your canvas
You think you paint me with dirt.
Shame.
A masterpiece that
will break me to pieces, eventually.

I am not just a blank canvas
Awaiting your ***** prints
I am my own masterpiece already.
I am women and my consent is the paintbrush.
Don't paint me until I ask.
Don't paint me until I ask.
Don't paint me until I ask.

I am an artwork ,different from anything you've seen before.
Smudges don't take away my beauty
It doesn't make me ***** or used
It increases my value.
You do not decrease my value when you touch me.

I was valuable
I am valuable
And I will forever remain valuable.

— The End —