I write poetry and my hands shake a lot. I'm the product of a 15 year old drug addict and a 20 sum year old college drop out. I was born into a family who normalized ****. Now I'm an 18 year old coming to terms with childhood abuse and abandonment fear. Recently diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, something I'm not sure I'll ever over come.
So this is me. A high school drop out, unemployed, battling all forms of addiction, at war with too many demons.


Craving an up.

I can literally feel the sadness in my bones.
My heart ******* aches and I'm losing control.
This **** has been killing me so it's time to let go.
Sit back and listen because this story is mine,
Its utter madness but now you'll know why I never trust guys.
I don't think God is real, never have, never will.
They say he loves all his children but don't you see how he breaks them?
I'm not just some atheist because I know this for sure.
Not once has God answered, he's just sent the devil to my door.
You would think the devil isn't human,
But he's as real as me and you.
He doesn't have horns but his favorite colors are black and blue.
Monsters don't hide under beds,
They walk into your room and restrain you under covers.
He pulls back the blanket and I'm staring into the eyes of my own brother.
God smiles, not cries,
As the devil he created shoves the wrong
Definition of love between my thighs.
I can't even call him a fallen angel
Because he never even made it to heaven.
Although he probably felt like it while he ***** me when I was 11.
Naked and scared, I prayed to god but he wasn't there.
I asked God why he dammed me to hell
I never got an answer but maybe I'm the angel that fell.
God said **** it, so I did too.
Years later, Impulsive desicions made me look like a fool.
These demons play hard and knock me to the floor.
But every night I crawled back fiending for more.
I started locking my door because
His empty eyes were burning through my skin.
All "God" has taught me is good hearts never win.
He creates bad men because he's obsessed with sin.
He sends lost souls to my door because
I'm so empty and desperate I let them in.
God did teach me one lesson back when I was 11.
"Close your eyes and think of a song,
you have no reason to feel so wronged,
Stop fighting the devil, accept the ****.
When someone actually wants you,  learn to appreciate."
The words stuck in my head for 7 years
Now I've got a new demon who whispers in my ear.
Drink a bottle, pop a pill, smoke ****, make yourself bleed.
"As long as you have drugs it's all you'll ever need"
Day after day, fighting to get clean
But the devils always watching and never lets go
I've never met a fallen angel so mean and so cold.
We fear his grasp but no ones ever prayed for his soul.
Why not pray for the one who needs it the most?
Because God gives up on all lost souls.
He did it to me, everybody knows.
He'll put you in battle, you'll die for sure.
There's gun shots in my head, so gimme some pills to fight this war.
Make the pain numb, learn to **** like a *****.
It seems like an endless battle but that's what the drugs are for.
So my advice to you is to never open that door
It's not worth it, I'm sure.
So when you hear a knock, go hide in your room.
God only sends men to break and bruise.
It's all about power and dope,
A ****** ******* nose.
They only hit you where the marks don't show.
In 97' God stopped caring about others,
So if you open that door
you might be staring into the eyes of your own brother.

And take it from me,
You'll never recover.

My phone buzzes with a text
His eyes dart over, blood shot red.
The angers coming out, palms start to sweat.
I always begged him not to do ****.
"Who the ******* textin! Let me ****** read!"
This is how it starts, manipulating my heart,
And beating till I bleed.
I say "***** you don't even own me.
You barely even know me!
Your a ****** fiend and a ****** who claims to only smoke ****,
but I know youll never get clean.
Youre an unemployed mommy's boy at the age of 23.
Stop slapping me around and be the **** you claim to be.
If your so ******* then why don't you **** me?"
Suddenly I've got a rope around my neck being dragged across the floor.
His eyes go black as he dishes out more.
Now I'm in the middle of the street,
how the **** did I get here? 
I never moved my own feet.
He tackled me to the pavement and I started to scream.
There's a man on the sidewalk ignoring my pleas.
The cops showed up but I denied all these things.
He's sitting in jail but I'll never press charges.
He's got a couple felonies and they found needles in his apartment.
I know he's dangerous but deep down he's sweet.
He only hit me a little, and never put me towards death.
Everyone hates woman that stick up for their beating so I'll lay it to rest.
Maybe my minds just distorted from trying to save a monster on ****.

I called him daddy in bed,
but I didn't think he would leave me
the same way my father did.
Now I'm lying here
holding myself at 3 AM
because God knows
neither of them will do it.

6 months ago I ******* lost my mind
alone on my bathroom floor,
covered in blood.
Today I would be 9 months pregnant
and the man I made that baby with
is just as gone as my sanity.
Did everyone ******* forget?
Why do we avoid that topic?
Why can’t anyone look me in the ******* eyes anymore?
Why didn’t I ever hear “I’m sorry for your loss”?
Why THE **** didn’t i get condolences?
Because nobody gives a **** when you lose a wanted pregnancy,
that's why.
No one gives a **** when your alone on the bathroom floor covered in blood and in so much pain you *****.
It went from "congratulations, I'm so excited for you!"
to "Well, at least you lost it before it was, like, human??"
Would people still say that if I had had an abortion?
No, I would be called a monster.
But since I wanted to keep the baby,
I'm just being to emotional over the loss of something that
"was barely even there"
How ****** up is that?

Well that pool of blood was a part of me,
and just as human as my mind makes it to be.

..

Give him everything you are.
Strip yourself to bare skin with chills on your spine.
Wishbones and collar bones,
your ribs protruding through your shirt.
He doesn't like fat girls.
So love begins on your knees in a bathroom stall
10 minutes after lunch.
Stomach acid burns your esophagus.
"I wonder if his **** going down will hurt as bad as ***** coming up?"
Be skinny.
Be everything he dreams.
Quiet, soft, subtle, pretty and confused.
Be this, that, and everything in between.
Be willing.
Be recyclable.
Be trash.
Broken glass in your retinas,
don't look him in the eye.
Let him have every part of you,
but hold back the feelings.
Be emotionless.
Be empty.
Now hope to god its enough for him to stay.
Ignore every part of you screaming
"he doesn't love you".
Unbutton your pants, pull off your *******
and reply,
"But I can make him."