(CONTENT WARNING!!!- BLOOD, VIOLENCE, DEATH, SENSITIVE TOPICS- ONLY FOR MATURE AUDIENCES)

MY BATTLEGROUND
A Poem, By Olivia Williams
Nights draw long.
The clock ticks slow.
So slow, the seconds snap thin like rubber bands.
Each snap feels like a weight of remembrance; eventually, it has started to take a toll.
While each minute drags like forever eternity,
As if eternity is even bothered by the pain.
My heart beats fast,
As visions grow.
The pain inclines.
Then the shadow man comes, and will never seem to go,
Drenched in blood,
Hollow eyes staring everywhere.
The tint of vengeance,
Of revenge,
Of horror.
The night,
His shadow,
Long and stretched,
Like a long blood-filled river,
This fate
That led me
ALMOST TO DEATH.
That night,
The man,
His cold presence
Turning me away,
Metallic smell
And taste
Filling my body,
Making me gag
In fear.
His eyes,
Still blood red,
That chase with a ****** knife,
Coated in others' mess,
Of others, he's ruined.
I think he’s…
Looking for me next,
As he pierces the knife
One by one.
The silence
Envelopes me,
The guilt,
Of chains,
Cold metal against bruised skin,
Clinking, against a solid white-concrete wall,
Locked in all white, nothing left for me to have.
Smell of must and smoke.
Chains of shame,
For trying to speak out but failed.
When I should have kept quiet,
So I'm not a burden,
Even though
I could have survived if I spoke.
I still want to scream,
But I'm caught in a web of…
“I should have spoken.”
“I should have stopped it.”
“I could have fixed this.”
“I could have protected myself.”
“Now I'm hurting the people I love….”
Yet I'm being pulled down by
Each outspoken recommendation,
Like I'm stuck in quicksand
With no escape.
Yet again,
He mocks,
Shames,
Yells,
Blames,
And buckles
Restraints.
I'm stuck
In these chains.
They hold me down…
Too well.
And they rattle and shake,
Bringing not only pain
But a reminder
Of the freedom
Never felt.
The rocks
He heaves
Onto my shoulders.
Never free.
The struggle
Of guilt.
I didn't fight back
When I should have.
Maybe I wouldn't
Have to deal with the
Internal pain now.
The weight,
I fall
As I'm tripped.
I call
In fear,
Thinking I'm about to be hit.
I yell,
Trying to get revenge.
The pain
Had taken control with guilt
Of sharing these thoughts.
“Am I… to blame?”
My friends,
They help
And sometimes
Distract,
But never for long,
As they disappear
On their path.
It's not fair,
I swear,
I fight,
But cry.
I punch,
I will try.
“NO!” he yells
And kicks me away.
I guess I'll never grow my wings and fly away.
I can only dream
Of a gorgeous escape.
The man,
His blood,
That taint
And taste
Will pull me back
To this loop of pain,
From this ****** nightmare.
I'm drowning
In my thoughts,
The whirl
Of a storm brewing,
Out of control.
Pain is like waves
Stabbing into the rocky shore
Where boats of hope crash
And are pummeled apart.
Wooden remains, on a decaying beach
Sand no longer there, trees laying face-down
Past repair.
The voices of survivors echo,
Asking for help,
But the wounds are so deep,
Gashes gaping and flowing,
A deep crimson and rose-red
Fill the once vibrant water.
The blood—
That's so thick,
I never hear their cries,
As their boats sink too,
And their lifeless bodies take the last dive into the waves before smashing into the rocky shore.
And the empty silence fills my mind of memories that I don't want to re-live.
But the blood covering this sea of people—and me,
Is taking control.
My breath feels heavy,
As if water and blood were pulling me down.
The flashbacks,
The fear that wraps and claws further and further to my throat,
Tightening with every vision that comes to light.
Will I ever get out?
I yell,
But all he does is laugh and say,
“NO!!!”
This blood,
The stain,
Both in life,
Forever
Engrained
In my memory,
Like a cracked mirror, broken pieces.
Glass in my feet,
Each shard, each bit
Representing broken hopes and thousands of mistakes I wish I could undo.
Of that fate
I was left
When no one has listened.
I tried to tell them,
But they all denied
The evidence,
Right there.
Especially those bruises.
The pain of laying there,
My own blood
Passing out,
Waking up,
No one caring that I was there,
No one noticing, that I needed help,
And that this has become my life because of this all.
With constant
24/7 battle
Of that knife,
That chase,
My blood,
The screams
Of others he chases.
A mix between THAT day and dream.
My battleground,
My life,
Has become a gruesome fight.
I don't know when the knife man will take me,
But on the battleground,
Trying to protect,
That is where I'll fall.
On the battleground,
For sure,
Is where
If anything,
I've lived through it all.
No matter what,
I will always fall,
But through it all,
I will always breathe.
Even if it's a struggle,
NEVER a relief.
I wish I could defy,
But for now, I will…
Try to fight
For my life
On this battleground,
With blood and mistakes,
That's just open
To take.
But even in the darkness,
That always holds when I'm suffocated
With rooms so dimly lit that just a flicker is left.
That flicker of hope is all that's left to hold everything back,
The darkness claws and grabs
At every chance to reach me, I hold on tight.
Even if so,
I will continue to breathe.
My breath will never stop,
EVER.
And at all.
When I return back,
My mind says “It's all a dream,”
But it happened, I have scars and damage for proof… and I know I'm just getting flashbacks
Because of THAT day, I hope one day I won't have to look the man in his eyes,
But for now… all I can do is… FIGHT.

God- a poem
P2
(NOTE: TOPIC BASED OFF RELIGION)
——————
I’m sick of people telling me that god “Exists”
He’s an idiot for thinking I’d love him
He didn’t save me then
He never gave me a sign
He never ONCE
Said anything
I don’t want to die
That’s not what I’m getting too
I’m getting to the point
That when I was in danger
When I needed god
You weren’t there
You never saw what I did
Nobody understands
I don’t like god
He comes up with all this crap
Just to make people believe
He’s the “Worthy” one
He’s stupid
He’s dumb
He’s an idiot
For thinking
I’ll ever love him enough
People need to wrap there minds around the fact I’ll never accept
Him as any religion
Especially when Ive grilled that Im an atheist
Always
I’ll think this
It’s not just that he didn’t save me
He never came when I was healing
He came up with the stupid “bible”
Just to spread his words
It seems dumb
And it’s all fake
Just to make people love him
I'M AN ATHEIST
AND
I DON'T WANT TO DIE
Someone please understand
The reason why!

GOD-
A POEM

(NOTE: TOPIC BASED OFF RELIGION)

——————
You ruined my life
I called you my savior
You didn’t help me when I needed it
You could’ve saved me but you didn’t
I was hurt
You ignored me
I was crying
You never saved me
You didn’t give me a sign you were there
You never helped me
You left me in despair
I hate you god
You left me on this path to die
You ignored my screams and cries
You left me in the dust
Smoke filling my eyes
Now Im blind to kindness
I almost didn’t survive
I’m not going to heaven
And I don’t care about hell
You are an idiot for thinking you are better than them all
You ruined my life
Yeah
That’s for sure
You ruined my life
You left me for dead
You didn’t save me when I needed you
You hurt me in strife
You never gave me a sign
It’s all your fault
You didn’t give them consequences  
You never gave me revenge
I can’t believe
You left me for dead
It’s all your fault god
Thanks for nothing
You ruined my life
Thanks..
For leaving
Me in strife
Because
I've found myself
Ive build myself back up
When you let them break me down
Now I hate you
So
I don’t thank you
God

The Irony of My Savior
by Olivia

(NOTE: TOPIC BASED OFF RELIGION)

————
They told me
there was a man
who once helped those who were hurt,
who “loved me” more
than anyone on the globe,
who changed life for the “better.”
But those nights spent in bed,
thinking about those nights spent
with others of the faith telling me,
“He heard your cries.”
“He listens to your prayers…”
“…He cleans your mind…”
“…Holds your hands…”
“…And loves you more than the world!”
My lifeline, that was supposed to
“Keep me alive,”
WENT DEAD.
My bruised and battered body
on a hard-tile floor,
blood covering me like how
“Jesus died for us on the cross.”
Going home all covered,
saying everything “was fine,”
going to church over the next month,
showing my pain
in a room full of promises and bandages
that fixed a LITTLE,
but through it all,
He never came.
If I was “chosen,”
if this was my “path,”
my “road,” my “story,”
that I had suffered for a reason,
that everything was on a blueprinted paper
like a plan for my life,
then where was HE to make corrections
when HE SAW HE took it too far
and didn’t do something right?
They all decorate the church with the “holy face”
and Bible verses,
pray that things will turn right,
because it’s easier than admitting
that what He SUPPOSEDLY DID wasn’t right.
They don’t know how to help me.
The doctors can’t either.
I’M NOT doing this for attention.
I used to, because that’s how I got noticed when I was hurt.
YES, I might have taken it too far,
but THAT day will never end.
IT ISN’T A DREAM.
PEOPLE CAN BE THAT CRUEL.
DON’T YOU DARE CALL ME “INSANE.”
They watch me bleed out
while handing empty and broken promises and prayers.
When ALL I NEEDED was someone to notice
when I had DIED that day on that hard tile floor.
I never saw Him, not then, not now.
That’s why I don’t believe HE exists.
I prayed so hard,
in my darkest times,
but He ceased to exist.
I built my own life up
from what was left of my battered, ****** body,
crimson-red blood.
The metallic taste and smell I’ll NEVER forget,
it’s still with me.
But I’ve found my home, found my place.
The irony of my “savior”
was the fact He came for His supposed “people” and “world,”
but He didn’t come for me.
I can cradle my hurt,
but He will never help.
He lost His chance,
and now I’m finding MY OWN
path,
MY OWN
LIFE,
MY OWN
story.
I’M CLAIMING THIS.
IT’S MY LIFE.

Broken Promises — a poem by Olivia
They hand me empty promises and lies
like gauze for wounds that are only slightly recognizable.
“You're a fighter though!” they say,
not realizing how much they’ve hurt me
with their actions and their words.
I slowly decay,
yet they say, “I’ll pray.”
But praying won’t help,
because you put my “cure”
out there like fixing one thing
will heal all the blurred lines
and begs that are yet to be heard.
You can stitch all my scars,
you can place gauze over bullets,
but that doesn’t fix all the outside and inside hurt
that’s tortured me behind more than just caged bars.
You pretend some don’t exist,
thinking changing one thing
can fix the rest.
You mistake my frustrated silence
for invisibility —
as if I don’t exist.
Everyone believes a “cure” or a “small fix”
can relieve some pain.
But the days draw long,
and the pain lives on.
My body is hurting
in more ways than one.
No one is listening
to the full story.
Am I not important enough
to get the help I need —
to literally survive
and keep going?
I feel like a burden
when people truly listen.
They try to help,
they try to “heal,”
but I am too far gone.
I’m the storm
raging in my own body,
leaking small streams
to be “discovered.”
They patch me up,
thinking one change is enough,
until I boil over
and yell, “I'VE HAD ENOUGH.”
When I blow,
I'm told,
“It’s your period,”
or “If you work on your anxiety, it’ll all go away!”
Yet YOU are the one that betrayed me.
YOU make those comments.
YOU think I WANT this?
I want my life back.
I want to live.
I want to exist.
I want to do everything
Everyone else can.
I wish I could eat
the biggest bowl of pasta
with tomatoes right now —
but It hurts.
I wish I could have something carbonated…
BUT IT HURTS.
I WISH I COULD LIVE PAIN FREE,
BUT MY BODY IS BREAKING ME APART.
I FEEL LIKE I'M FALLING WAY TO FAR!!!
I don’t want this life.
Someone, please hear me.
Every time you pretend to listen,
to hear,
you miss the end.
I’ve written it out before.
Your broken promises —
“Everything’s going to get better”
and “You’re a fighter” —
aren’t enough.
I know you’re trying.
But I’m falling apart.
And your broken promises
will never be enough.
I’m a burden.
I understand.
But please listen anyway.
My wounds are deep crevasses
that aren’t fixable
by a band-aid
or some gauze.
Please look at the full picture,
and don’t look at it
like there’s just one cause.
My body is like shattered glass
piercing into my soul.
My mind is a tornado
I can’t hide from.
They hand me prayers
like shredded paper
that’s supposed to “shield the pain,”
but it’s all in vain.
They always admit it’s easier
to patch a crack with a band-aid or gauze
than to fix the gaping holes
that are spewing thoughts,
pain,
shouts,
pleas for help
when no one is listening
to the true pain.
They say words like “strong,” and “fight,”
“Brave,” “Bold,” “persistent,” or a “warrior”
like those are the things
that will make it right.
But they say that
so they don’t have to sit
in the blood, sweat, and tears
of my broken body,
my storm-tossed mind,
the wreck inside me.
Those times in those offices,
while they spew how I should change.
But when I try to put those in play,
It's a grave mistake.
The clock ticks slower,
my mind races fast,
thinking one change of a medication,
one simple diet change,
will help all of these facts.
I won’t stand for people like this.
I want to live like a normal kid.
I want to exist.
I don’t want prayers.
I don’t need sympathy.
I just need help.
Please don’t give me broken promises.
I need more help
than what’s been given.
I’m not a lesson to be taught
on how to appear “fine.”
I’m not your charity case
holding a briefcase of lies.
I am HERE —
bleeding,
breaking,
falling apart.
Are YOU finally listening?
Don’t act like you know how to fix me.
Don’t act “smart.”
Just support me.
Will you be my support buddy?
Can you help me?

MY EVERYTHING
A Poem for Toby.
—————————-
My Everything,
My ray of light,
My beam of sunshine,
My love at first sight.

My baby boy
lays here to rest.
His eyes—sunken—
pain taking him away
from being his best.

Golden fur, fluffy tail,
a smile that lights up the room.
No matter where,
a heart so big—
it ignores all the creatures,
except for bees, which he tries to devour.

My baby boy
used to chase us around.
Never interested in sticks,
but a ball—
is where he shows his favorite tricks.

You have all the cheer
in each little bark.
When we play tag,
you’re always near.
I know how much you’re hurting,
but I’m always here.

Sunlit trails, cloudy night skies,
rainy days, and a fall surprise.
You walk along these woodchip paths,
always loving walks—no matter the path.
A loyal friend,
always by my side.

You bark and guard our house
from “dangers” outside.

Footsteps come,
or a car pulls in.
Your voice yips
and barks—
so proud,
so loud.
So spunky once—so full of life,
a burst of joy, of sunshine, of light—
no hint of strife.

Then cancer came... the tumor too.
It hurt your mind,
and body too.

Your eyes hold gentle rain—sadness—fear,
as you don’t know what’s coming,
and we don’t either.
Your heart beats brave and strong.

My love will last forever,
even when you move on.
I hold your paw,
I hold your head,
to try to take the weight off
from your shoulders.
When you so tired,
And ready for bed.

Each day is a gift,
a chance to love, laugh, and lift.
I thank you for every smile—
you’ve made my life better, so worthwhile.
So rest now, my dear baby boy.
In every breath,
Love is what we give.

Illness might dim the light behind your eyes.
You might be hurting,
not ready for the next surprise.
But you are forever—
My duty is to love.


Toby, I love you to infinity and beyond.
You, my everything.
May–when you go,
Fly pain-free like a dove.

The Sunshine Stingray
——————————-
A shimmer of glitter,
in the clawing waves of the sea.
A jewel of light,
a candle of hope,
stingray’s grace
letting me be me.
Birds take flight
above the deep, dark waves,
hiding secrets underneath —
betrayals and caves.
I used to get trapped.
Lungs burned,
feeling like fire colliding into my ribs.
Legs flailing,
giving up when I had nothing left.
Water up my nose, in my mouth —
choking, pleading for help.
I couldn’t swim.
I was tossed and toppled
into the bruised sea,
dragged underneath
like someone was pulling down on me.
The sky was so dark,
like a brewing storm.
I had prayed for light
that never came.
But now I’m leaving my mark
on the golden — in my stingray.
Beneath a new dawn, a glow lights above.
The bruised and battered sea— fights,
tossing me off course,
so far.
I felt like I was flying
out of a speeding car.
My wings spread wide —
golden glitter over pale skin,
covering fading gashes
like a tarp.
Trying to stitch light into the wound,
trying to patch up my past
with shimmer and silence.
Even though I know
I didn’t earn it —
because I didn’t fight back.
Still, the warmth of the cloudy sky
and the new sun
offer a kind of mercy.
Night meets day.
The fire is no longer ablaze.
The sky is a glass mirror
beneath a veil of shaded fog.
The clouds hide only a little of the sun.
I dive down deep.
I’m not afraid anymore.
I know I’m loved —
I’m strong.
I can fight through life,
evermore.
Corals play and dance
around the sea,
like lanterns swinging
in a breeze.
The sun finally opens
for all to see.
The fish come out —
not scared, they don’t flee.
The colors of the coral
light up and ripple
through the fading darkness
of the sea.
There’s peace at last.
Land ahead —
reefs open up,
ships rise to full mast.
The aftermath
is broken and ******,
but scars slowly heal,
one step at a time.
Day by day,
the stingray glows
brighter than the start
on our new starry night.
The sun leaves the softest ray.
A candle still burns.
I’m rebuilding my life,
hugging with the ocean —
a true embrace.
I’ve left most behind,
leaving hurt without a trace.
Day turns to night.
The world falls silent.
Waves lick the sandy shores.
Seagulls go hushed
as they fly back home.
The deep, battered, bruised
fades into space — and time.
Now meant to be left behind —
crevasses of empty holes
that never healed.
Empty words and prayers,
never answered,
now lay strewn… sealed.
My stingray glows
through its pain,
its shame
for not being who it is,
for not being brave.
“It’s okay to be afraid,”
people say —
but what they don’t realize
is the world is eating fear.
So I’ve learned to steer clear.
My light now shines.
So does my ray.
The storm and sea now fade
into what life is — into infinity.
A sunshine grows
as the cloudy sky subsides,
and I’m slowly becoming brave enough…
to be myself — and try.
My ray is new.
Glitter is what it holds.
And holding onto more,
underneath it all —
is hope.
“What is the sunshine stingray?”
you may ask?
Well… it’s me.
Starting life over,
day by day,
night by night.
Pain, bruises, storms —
I just wait for them to subside.
I try my best
when that’s what’s asked.
I put forth my effort,
to love myself during my worst,
and learn from my mistakes.
I’m human.
So when you see that shimmer,
when you see a sunset or sunrise,
or a stingray gliding below —
a survivor is moving free
from chains
that once held it taunt.
I will try to live,
in the life,
of the sunshine stingray —
and hold onto hope,
no matter the days.
I’m reborn,
alive,
glowing,
grounded,
Free,
My life.
My sunshine.
My stingray.