Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Just get over it
That's what they all say
You have a good life
You aren't depressed, you're just whiny

Oh, that's right
It's in the past
Because the gleaming eyes of a too-old man
Dark rooms out of the family's sight
The way you can't live without those sick memories
It's all in the past, right?

You were a young saint
A little boy with nothing to lose
But his too-big hands and his too-wide smile
Ripped your white angel wings from your back
And pressed your fragile body
Ever harder to the mattress

It's been almost a decade but you don't forget
Like the way America has not forgotten
September 11th
They remember 2500 lost lives
But you're not allowed to mourn your own?

"They" is just another pronoun
But you know exactly who I mean
The bitter faces that turned away from you
Accusations of lies on their tongue
When all you needed was someone to be there

Forget them
You've grown and changed and you are not one of them
They need to get the **** over it
Not you
You're strong
You're unique

You're alive
You like the pain
It keeps you alive, doesn't it
But you've always wondered why

Maybe it all started when you were a little girl
Beaten and whipped by the man you wished your mother never married
You thought he loved you and was just scolding you for your mistakes
It wasn't until your mother filed papers for child abuse against him when you realized what happened

Back then you were scared and confused
Still a little girl

Maybe it started when you were forced against that wall
Taken against your will and losing your innocence
Although your mental innocence had been lost long before
But then you realized what that man did was bad, although you kept quiet about it

Back then you less scared but more confused
Not a little girl anymore

Maybe it was when you had your heart broken for the first time
The pain in your chest was so tight it felt like someone reached inside you and grabbed your organs and just squeezed
You cried so much until your tear ducts ran dry
But then you realized that you were scared of the pain, so you did everything to please someone just so they wouldn't hurt you

Back then you were terrified but no longer confused
Slowly growing up

Maybe it was when you first put the blade to your wrists
Watched the blood drip down your pale skin and just smiled through it
You didn't cry, you were silent about it
But then you realized you enjoyed this pain, and continued to do it until your wrists were covered in ugly scars

Now you're feeling emotionless, a stone statue on the outside
But you're still a scared little ******* the inside

And it's true
I'm ******* terrified
little slug
lived his life
thinking he was a snail
until a man came along
ripped off his shell
and covered him in salt
more about ****! sorry folks, i wrote a lot this year and just never posted it, so yeah. sorry that things are as grim as they are. i don't have so many love poems from this year.
Today I have a question to ask
From the coward thieves and murderers
Who attack their prey in the dark.

Today I have a question to ask
From those who consider her as a toy to play
As she fights to keep her virginity safe.

Today I have a question to ask
From all the soul killers who take pleasure
In hearing her screams and cries while they laugh.

Today I have a question to ask
From the dark demons who enjoy 'the game'
While she hopes to die at the end of it.

Today I have a question to ask
From these monsters who fulfill their needs
As they steal away her identity.

Today I have a question to ask
From those who make her hate herself
For they leave inside her some of their part.

Today I have a question to ask
From those who feel mighty and powerful
As they curse her forever with the scars.

Today I have a question to ask
From every ****** ****** in the world
How will you pay for those innocent lives
Who were a victim of your fun and lost the fight?
Lying beside the safety blanket of an open fire
You ask me why I am scared of the CD player.
A question no one dared to ask,
As if asking was like the warmth that
Would unravel me bare skinned
Limbs against floor boards
Revealing the things I hoard under
The loose fabric of a summer dress.

I confess to you them parts of me
You would never see unless you
Asked that single question.

I bite my lip, the tip of my tongue
Hoping it can charade its way out
Of these words, these words
I have been trying to drown,
to sink with sips of sauvignon blanc
Till I had dried the glass of myself clean, empty.

I bite my lip.

His eyes were like silver discs,
Scratched on the surface
Playing nothing but broken records
So no one could hear the fear inside my chest.
The melody of his muse would ring through my veins
so I shut my eyes,
Opened my thighs and I bit my lip
Drawing blood to my tastehah buds
To forget the thuds of his open palm
So no harm would come to me
If I forget to see, forget to breathe
Each night I would cry to the wake of the morning,
hoping tomorrow would never come.
For some, darkness is safer than light.

It wasn’t how they told me it would happen.
Slow, sober, a blur of moments
Woven together into a noose that would
Hang out my hope on the thread of a rope
And it wasn’t how they told me it would happen.
That I would go back to him when the darkness came.
That I would know it would always be the same
But I would never be the same again
He locked me in the closet for 6 hours,
Hands bound, mouth taped shut
And I never thought I would pray to stay locked away
I have never been so afraid
Waiting for the door to open to two discs
Reflecting the fear that was living in my heart.

I don’t know where to start.
Fear is an emotion that can scare you
to silence the secrets wrapped up in your lies
Beside the tears you keep in a jar for no one to see.
What is that bruise?
I fell in the shower.
Why are you bleeding?
Mother nature
Why are you not eating?
Im eating later
Why are you limping?
I am struggling to stand myself in the mirror
Can’t you see I am starving myself thinner and thinner
So please guess what is happening beneath this dress
My womb is ***** empty,
There is nothing left inside me to fill
Nothing left that is real
Can’t you see I am trying to **** myself before he does?

You ask me why I never told you.
I bite my lip-
This poem has been hidden beneath the
Smile I now wear, under my tongue
Within my lungs, inside my fingertips
That itch to write the truth
But I know if I say these words,
Unseal my lips, this story is real.
Tracing the lines he left on my body
I know he’s telling me to not pick up the pen
And that is exactly why I have picked up my pen.

I don’t want to condemn the people who ****,
Who try to escape the law
With threats to their victims
Hidden beneath words disguised as love
I don’t see myself as a victim anymore.
Him. He. That man. That boy.
He isn’t me.
I cannot blame myself for what happened.
You cannot blame yourself for what happened
Between closed doors, open alleys,
The bedroom in your own home
With your parents on the same floor.
People ask me why I am scarred
And I say these are not scars
These are my battle wounds
From a fight I thought I lost,
From a life I thought I tossed aside
From a time when I didn’t know if I was even alive anymore.
I didn’t survive, I am tired of being told
I am lucky to be alive to survive to be normal
The sad thing is, this is what is becoming normal
for too many women and men
and when are we going to make it stop?
Stop is a word so many know too well.

My ****** still lives in my bones.
He’s made it his home to roam,
To decorate and play the same song
Each night over and over and over.
I never invited him in.
I couldn’t escape my ****
But maybe it could have been prevented
If we teach our children what it means to have consented
That consent cannot be confused with silence
Why are children still not being taught
That ****** violence should never be silenced?
Instead of questioning what I was wearing
We need to start caring that 1 in 6 are sexually abused,
we have got used to a culture where we remove
a persons right to question whether this is normal.
This is not normal.
This is never normal.

When are we all going to stand up and say stop.
We need to stand up and say stop.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2q3IPH7SE0
little girl
your young
your skinny
you could have the world

little me
your shy
your sad
you don't know what you could be

dear myself
you were happy
you were beautifull
you should've never put that smile on the shelf
I still remember that night. I remember how I felt before it happened more vividly than how I felt after. I think I remember it so well because that was the last time I ever felt whole.
My shorts were short
my ******* were wet
my sweet little cherry had yet to be popped.

Your intentions filled the room as I admired the spit drool on the side of your lips. The uneasy smirk on your face. You wanted a lot more than to "just get laid." I was far too young to even begin to understand the parts of my body you knew not to touch.

As you kissed me down my neck and your manhood grew harder, my spine quivered and my fear shook. My mother always told me to follow my gut and when I did you grabbed me and you told me not to listen to it. You told me to ignore what I didn't want for the sake of your temporary pleasure. You disregarded my comfort and put your **** ahead of my feelings.

You yanked my legs open and your ripped me into two pieces, and till this day I have yet to find the other half you stolen from me, and I swear I almost see it everyday when I stand ahead of myself naked infront of my mirror but I can never stare at myself long enough to grab me in and make myself whole again.

Do you see what you have done to me? Was each stroke of stolen pleasure worth every jump I make when the man I love touches me with permission? Was your everlasting ******, sounds of moans and sighs escaping from your lips, echoing in my stomach and spilling out in my tears worth me cutting myself open every night since?

I guess it was because at least I'm giving myself permission opening myself up. At least the pain has consent. At least the blade dragging across my skin silenced the sound of your pleasure inside of me. At least the blood from my wrist dripping onto the bathroom floor isn't mixed with your ***.

At least I have the choice to put just a little more pressure in and I wont have to be reminded of you anymore.
Her mind is like a universe.
She's a soul,
but still a human first.
To be whole,
she must grow from birth.
Till her last day,
she's here to learn.
Here to earn,
and not return.
The bad, she's had.
The goods in turn.
Her heart could burn,
and shouldn't work.
I’ll spark the flame,
it couldn’t hurt.
The stars don't fall,
they shoot at earth.
I'm the future of what’s new to her.
Beauty oozes from her humor,
but she’s a rebel just like Lucifer.
She’s the Devil, level nuclear.
Her presence, omnipresent.

*Represented by a ruler fueling
love* like it’s a weapon.
Next page