Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sky Feb 2019
You break me down like I am nothing
Nothing more than a piece of lent
Am I even that?  
I am undefined, habitually replaceable  
A mess of colors
Take me and bend me in two, I’ve always been used for others satisfaction
Use me up, swallow me whole
Knock me down, pin me, take what you wish
I am a set of tools to be used at your disposition
A heart ache so full it can reach the sun and does
The sun reaches out, those blazing arms engulf my being
And now
I am the sun
Hot- Rage
Passionate, volatile
The Sun; I-  
Casts shadows
And in those shadows hide fear, insecurities, unidentifiable trauma, anger, hostility, and the desire for definitive change

Perpetually displeased with the volcanic eruption of emotions, I turn to the orbiting moon and ask her:  
How do I learn to quiet the instinctive nature of burning rage of hurt held deep within my soul?

The moon takes her time to reply. I can only assume she is delving thoroughly into her thoughts, bringing the best answer possible to the surface. She says; fuel the rage with conviction, ideals and compassion. Learn to give freely of your love. Do not expect even gratitude in return. Invite change to come. Welcome pain, let it sit for a while and then politely ask it to leave. Do not shy away from fears, instead face them boldly. Ultimately realize that yes, you can cast shadows, but your light radiates above all. You are the center, so shine.
About me
Sky May 2018
I try to pay attention but words just disappear cause it’s always raining in my head
I’ll make myself so small that I’m no longer here
This thing that’s inside my skin is trying to claw her way out
She’s got vengeance in her soul
I hush her for the night
But she’ll only try again tomorrow  

And so I ask who am I? Why am I like this? All my thoughts rush through my head, scattered like a jigsaw puzzle not yet put together
But I cannot say them out loud
They scream and they fight because they just want to be heard, they want to be felt and understood
My mouth, it never opens
Clamped shut in a permanent smile
As all the people say, “isn’t her smile so beautiful?”
Don’t they see what’s hidden behind my eyes?
“SOS. Help. Save me!”
They don’t know that I’m ruining this beautiful set of teeth and plump lips with a cigarette in the crevice
Holding all of the terrifying thoughts packed inside my mind

I swear I’m a good girl, so why don’t you love me back?
It’s never me
I believe it’s my personality
No one could ever love me
I suppose I was lying all that time

I bleed my heart out on all these papers
Tears never stain my eyes but the lump in my throat won’t disappear
I crave affection that I won’t let myself feel
Because who can love me when I can’t even love myself?

I’m so full of lies and deceit
Don’t believe what they tell you. Don’t believe what I say
“She’s honest and full of loyalty, kind and oh so beautiful.” I’m honest and full of loyalty, kind and oh so beautiful.
I’ll swear to you that I’m good
That I deserve the right kind of love
I’ll tell you that I’ll never lie to you
I’ll let you believe I’ll bare my whole heart and soul
The secrets that begin at my toes and don’t stop until they reach the top of my head, I’ll never admit
For that, I apologize eternally

Sometimes somebody hurts you so bad it stops hurting at all
Who broke me?
Why can’t I be full?
Deep down there’s an ache so extreme it takes over my being
Each day it spreads a little further
One day my beating heart will stop
I’m waiting for that day

There are moments when I’m asked a question but I can’t answer because my mouth is clamped shut
It feels as if I’ll need pliers to force it open
My stomach burns and I think acid will spill from my mouth
The acid chokes me and my head is spinning
It’s okay I tell myself, you can answer the question
I speak, but I do not hear myself
I’m numb
I’m empty

Dear Lord, My Savior, Jesus Christ:
Each day brings more pain but I continue to pray for strength, courage, and guidance
You are the healer of all, so I’ve been told
I needed you today
I needed you yesterday
And I’ll need you tomorrow
I grasp on to the thought of you  
I am a sinner of many kinds
Do you forgive me? I am so sorry you had to die for my sins
I’m so sorry I’m not better for you have made me perfect in your eyes
I love you My God

I sit at my window with it wide open
I remember five years ago when I jumped out of one and nearly died
I think I want to try again
I don’t
Instead I lay back on my bed and breathe steadily counting every exhale
I tell myself tonight I’ll be all right
Tomorrow I’ll try for a better day
Sky Mar 2018
I think I need to explain myself a little better than I did the other day about my self hatred. You said I should fix it and you are completely right but what you don’t know is that I’ve been doing that for years. For five years now, actually.  
   You see, my self hatred isn’t something I picked up along the way. It isn’t an emotion or feeling I scooped up while being shoved down the path of teen hood that happened to stay a little past it’s welcome. It isn’t something that begins and ends on the surface. It ranges much deeper than that.  
Since I can remember I’ve been full of this ache like I’m homesick even though I’m home. Most of the time it’s dull, sometimes it’s crushing.
   My self hatred was given to me. More so, my self hatred was forced upon me. My legs were pried open until I was splayed wide like a fish and my self hatred was injected inside. When it took root, there was no stopping her. She filled my head with fright and gave me nightmares. She told me she would **** me with the metal air vent. Even worse, she told me if I spoke a word to anybody, she’d **** my family. She let me know I was a bad girl and that I didn’t deserve anything. She made sure I walked with my head hung low, nose to the ground. She used the same fingers that gave me my self hatred to wrap tightly around my throat while she holstered herself atop of my body. As soon as I woke, it was time for me to sleep again because I was bad and if I ever questioned her my tongue was close to ripped from my mouth.
   When they found out about my self hatred, the police were called and an investigation had begun. They placed me on top of a bed at the doctors and told me I was having “a different kind of checkup”. I was too young to understand. It didn’t matter, they shoved the scope inside anyways and found that my ***** was not totally intact any longer, confirming the affirmations as true. My mother broke.
   So you see, when I say I don’t think I’m pretty what I really mean is, when I look in the mirror I see a body stuffed full of cellulite that jiggles when I move and shakes the ground when I walk. I see beady eyes staring back at me except it's not me. its a clone stuck in the world where I'm supposed to be while the real me is trapped inside the mirror. I don't recognize who's in front of me.  I want to **** the clone because she thinks awful things about me. she lets me know that I'm meaningless, that no matter how many times I think I may burst through the glass it will never happen because I'm pathetic. I can't summon the courage to do what needs to be done. she lets me decide what I want to be then snatches it up from me with a snarling laugh and
   I guess my point is, thank you for being concerned in my well being and suggesting me to make a change. My final point, I am. I have been. I’m better today than I was yesterday and tomorrow I will be better than I am today.
Sky Mar 2018
I remember when I used to wish that I could be one of those people who didn’t care about anything. one of those people who had an on and off switch, and whenever they didn’t want to feel a certain way they just flipped the switch. I used to beg for it. it never came, day after day I was the same. I was so emotionally unstable that walking against the wind cracked my bones.

Eventually my day came, but followed, was weeks then months after months of an empty void. I know I should feel angry or upset when someone says a cruel joke or another someone ***** me over or a friend decides to leave  but I dont. I feel like I've been scratched on the surface. There’s no depth to the hurt. No real feeling, no raw pain. The scratch doesn’t even need a bandaid. sometimes I wish I could feel again, but most of me doesn’t care enough to even have a wish.

The majority of my conversations are with myself. At one point in my existence I couldn’t be away from someone for longer than an hour without the anxiety beginning to set in. Today, an old friend and I met up and he told me I’m too quiet, I don’t seem like myself. I think that’s when it hit me that I am quiet these days, because I only talk to the little man inside my head. He and I, we don’t need to speak out loud. My friend asked me who I hang around now, and again I had no answer to give because I hang around me. I talk to me. Me and I, we are friends, and we are the only friends we need. Who else could understand me the way I do?

This wondering has brought me and I to a conclusion that maybe we are turning into ghosts. We think we are becoming more invisible as the days pass. We think it is okay.
  Mar 2017 Sky
Breanna Stockham
We wake up and plan
to smile at strangers,
and hold the door open,
and say no to anger.

But then there's traffic,
and road rage and red lights,
and cut-offs and cuss-outs,
daydreaming of fights.

Our destination is reached,
and our hands are in fists,
we stomp down the halls,
and crash by accident.

Coffee spills, papers scatter,
faces red, eye contact made,
thoughts are racing, anger raising,
a small flame ignites great hate.

We watch the scene
play in our head,
like directing a movie
and take one is red.

It's yelling and screaming,
insulting and punching,
automatic desire,
but solving nothing.

Aren't we lucky
we aren't bound by our thoughts?
We might be tempted,
but slaves we are not.

Aren't we lucky
if take one leads to
mistakes or trouble
we can choose a take two?
Sky Oct 2016
In the midst of the commotion all I could see was you in every horrible aspect of your being
I was always the first to validate the repugnant acts you committed
You didn't care, neither did I
Sky Apr 2016
So high I can't feel my face
I'm so high I'm turning blue
But don't worry baby, this will all pass and I'll be miserable once again

When did drugs become my best friend?

You say you see me but you don't
You say you feel me but your touch is not near

Future me says this is a bad idea, but present me says this is the sweetest taste I've ever felt

So come to me ecstacy, acid, ***, shrooms
Be my guide until I find my way and make me feel when I feel nothing at all
Next page