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Why does everyone want to lose it?
Isn't it supposed to be somewhat sacred?
I've always thought so.
It's too bad that mine was stolen from me.
****
Bitter tears of pain,
this anguish of my broken soul.
Burning skin with scratches,
pride that will never be whole.
This unending nightmare
of being surrounded by wolves.
Devouring my flesh and innocence,
piece by piece, part by part.
Execrable faces changing like street lights,
lecherous with sarcastic grin, oozing with saliva.
That invidious stench of animalism,
penetrating every pore.
Noxious vandalism breaking every
fiber and destroying the very core.
Thrown on streets, like a soiled cloth,
smeared with ***** and blood.
Unconscious, unclothed, shattered
with unending seizures and spasms.
Wounds heals but scars remains,
And whenever I will touch them
I will relieve the pain.
This question of being woman,
I’ll ask again and again and again.
They say hang’em, but it will
Only be freedom from there hellish mind.
Why not let them be among thousand men
Who **** them, again and again.
Sometimes we have to speak
The language they understand.

bold(Poem dedicated to the victim of **** in Delhi.)**bold
Sometimes I wonder if you find yourself here
Scrolling through the words of my past
Wondering if you're still in my mind
Or even scrolling further back to see all my love poems to you
Well if you haven't noticed you haven't left my head

So if by chance you've stopped by this page today my darling
Hello.
I've never been one to take a punch without either dulling my senses or punching back
But this punch back feels wrong
Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing
I'm drifting through life
The corridors of my heart have been empty for years and I don't know how to fill them anymore
From my father to my first love to you I've been abused
I've been bruised, talked down to, manipulated, and confused
And you did nothing but confuse and dull my senses as if there was something I was supposed to see and you blocked it from my view
I've never hated you, I can't find the time to
But between when you left me barely functioning and now I've learned to love you without being next to you
And hearing you hurt and holding back the pain in your voice broke me and I didn't know how to respond.
So when you told me not to speak to you
Not to tell you that I loved you
Not to tell you that I missed you
I decided that because I do love you I was going to respect your wishes.

I check your Facebook now and again
I make sure you're still posting on your instagram to make sure you're still breathing
If I could ask you how you were doing I would
But you don't want to hear from me, it hurts to much
And I keep fighting the urge because baby
You learned how to control me
And now I cannot free myself.
You know that moment that most classify as your heart "dropping"?
When someone tells you something or you start thinking too hard
And suddenly you can feel your chest just stop?
Someone's holding your heartstrings so tight that they stop vibrating.
They stop making the music you've grown comfortable with
And make it start throbbing and makes your knees weak.
For me, and many people, it gets really bad sometimes.
Sometimes it gets so bad that you can't breathe quite right.

Like when your fiance tells you how worthless you are when you thought things were just looking up.
Like when your mother tells you the news that he left you with nothing but your anxiety attacks in the middle of the night.
sometimes you can't help but wonder why.
I know I wasn't perfect but I did everything I possibly could.
So when you hear the news he's going to be a father your world stopped and your heartstrings try to sing but
They can't
Because as he walked out he dragged them behind him
As if holding you there forever is such a possibility.

As if you'd follow him forever.
With your back breaking and knees clanking and palms sweating
You'd stay there just for him.
You'd deal with your anxiety attacks.
Youd try to no avail to silence the voices that have done nothing but break you down bit by bit.

You know that moment when your heart drops and you can feel your heartbeat in your toes?
As if that's where your heart has lived your whole life?
As if stepping on the veins that circulate every blood plaitlet in your body didn't hurt as everyone stepped on it.
As you stepped on
Because darling one of these days you're gonna take a wrong step and crush your own ******* heart.

So pick it up.
Pick your heart up from the soles of your feet.
Place it back inside that cage you call a chest and just keep trucking like you always
Because time does in fact heal all wounds but
God you wouldn't know that because you don't stop dwelling on the subject to let Father Time do his work.
Pick up your sharp edges and twisted senses.
Pick up the pieces of your broken mirrors and safety nets.
Baby it's time you learned how to fly and stop loving your life underneath the surface.

Pick it up.
Spread your wings.
Fly on the songs of your heartstrings
And never let
Your nightmares turn to reality
Day 1: I want to tear my skin off. My heart is beating so fast i can barley breathe. I feel so filthy.
Day 2: I can't believe this. I don't want to be here. Why did this happen? Why did I let this happen?
Day 5: I guess I drank too much and my friends were to drunk to stop me.
Day 10: I can't face my friends, I can't live my life.
Week 3: No one knows. He hasn't said a word.
Week 6: It happened again, I was sleeping and he did it again. Why did I stay the night? Why didn't I go straight home?
Week 7: He left and kissed me goodbye. I don't know how to feel.
Week 10: My life's out of control, I can't believe whats happening.
Month 5: My boyfriend knows. But not all details. Just thinking about it, makes me want to take a shower.
Month 8: I finally came clean to my friends. They're appalled. They hate him now. I still feel filthy. I can't get his smell off my body still.
Month 11: The anniversary is soon. What am I going to do?
Year 1: I haven't spoken to him in months. I haven't thought about it in days. I still feel as if hes on top of me, why can't I wash him away?

Its an uphill battle with myself and others. Some days I can't get out of bed or even feel like breathing.
But I try not to let him get to me. Because if he sees my weakness from what hes done,
He's won.
I'm a craftsman with words.
Each page I fill is another home I've built.
Every house is built differently to hold a variety of people.
I'm a craftsman with words.

A writing utensil is the only tool I will ever need.
It is a tool anybody can use but a true craftsman can do so much more with it.
My mind is a toolbox, filled with blueprints of houses just waiting to be built.
I'm a craftsman with words.

The page is the plot of land that I will build my house on.
The lines on the page is the foundation and the framework that I will build off of.
My pen is the hammer, each letter is a nail, and every word is a 2x4 holding the house together.
I'm a craftsman with words.

Every sentence a tile I lay to make the floor with.
Every paragraph is another wall that I put up.
Every "The end" is the roof I put to complete the house.
And every house I build, is a home people can move into.
I'm a craftsman with words.
I want you to be with me till the end of time.
I want you to never leave me even when you have to go.
I want you to hold me until my body becomes one with yours.
I want you to love me, unconditionally.

I want to hold your hands until my fingers ache.
I want to stare into your eyes until my eyes dry out.
I want to listen to your heart beat until it stops beating.
I want to love you, unconditionally.
Depression is flowers smelt like coffins,
She told me once,
I received her flowers and I knew why.
Coated with pains is her heart full of blues.
I planted poppies and
by dawn,
They already smelt
like her toxic cigarettes.
#addiction #sadness #depression #death
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