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Jul 2018 · 126
Black and Blue Flags
Elizabeth Waxman Jul 2018
We battle every day,
but victories don’t stop us.
Marriage equality is growing,
but we won’t slow until it is everywhere.

We have our many flags
of different colors and patterns.
We march with them in the streets,
showing our pride.

In the dark alleys, however,
We are beaten,
*****,
murdered.
By these shadowed figures
that we only see in blinding darkness.

Perhaps they are teachers,
parents,
priests,
or our best friends.
We will never know as they hide,
waiting to attack one of us.

Our youth on the streets
because of parents,
once unconditional with love,
now hate and abandon.

We are an unstoppable community.
You can hurt us,
abandon us,
and hate us,
but we will not leave.

If you try to oppress us,
we will raise our flags of many colors higher,
march longer,
and never stop.
Aug 2017 · 220
Scared of Death
Elizabeth Waxman Aug 2017
Of course I'm scared of death.
What fool wouldn't be?
wanting to die,
does not negate fear.

Of course I'm scared of death.
The uncertain,
The unknown,
The absoluteness.

Of course  I'm scared of death.
Even with a noose around my neck.
If it will be painless,
or excruciating dread.

Of course I'm scared of death,
so i back down tentatively.
Some may call that cowardly,
but to that I am okay.
Jun 2017 · 236
Hate.......and love?
Elizabeth Waxman Jun 2017
I hate you.
The words you use.
The way I flinch
at any sudden moves
afraid it is you
ready to strike.
I hate how you act
like a small spoiled child
when you're supposed to be:
a mother
a role model
a gentle soul.
Why do I love you?
I defend you!
I blame myself!
I'm told I must.
"You can't hate your mother".
So if I do,
I must pretend
and force myself
to love you
instead of hate.
Jun 2017 · 160
Confusion
Elizabeth Waxman Jun 2017
I'm so confused
is this how people act?
Are these extra nice,
or were the old ones just *****?
For once i don't panic alone.
For once people laugh at my jokes.
For once they seem to like me.
people act this way?
Is this normal?
Because i thought this was in movies,
or in stories I wrote
when I begged for a friend.
Am I worried they will leave?
Of course!
I always do.
I probably always will,
but right now
I should enjoy it
enjoy having friends
and have memories
if i'm left alone again.
Nov 2016 · 229
Crying
Elizabeth Waxman Nov 2016
How many more tears can I handle?
How many more weekends?
Being insulted every time I interact.
Being told to shut up
every time my mouth opens.
Being yelled at
to the point I cant do anything.
Being shamed
to the point I look in the mirror and hate myself.
Till I hate the way I act
The way I dress
The way I look
The way I LIVE!
The tears steaming down my cheeks
begging the pain in my gut to leave
and the weight on my chest
to be lifted
if only for a moment.
The idea of a nice quiet weekend
goes away the minute they awake.
My temporary smile
wiped away.
Replaced with the all more familiar
Fear
Sadness
Anxiety.
I push them down
and try to behave.
I hope they vanish
but I know they come out.
They wouldn't see though.
They're too busy
causing these tears
now dried on my face.
Oct 2016 · 382
A Woman is Just as Good
Elizabeth Waxman Oct 2016
This little pink ball looks so tiny and innocent hidden behind a flap of skin.
I am its master.
You are at my mercy once I take hold of it.

I will tease you for hours and then finally see it.
A little pink ball glistening with your ***** excitement.
Even not a touch, but just circling around it,
playing with the skin that covers it slightly.

I can push down a little and make you lose control.
I can rub it and watch your muscles tense and spasm.
You buck and groan wanting more.
The little pink ball ***** as it will go.

I twist it between my fingers
as your legs twitch and sweat.
As I stop right before you hit ******,
edging you,
teasing you all night long.

I will leave your beautiful red lips,
and put mine to your little pink ball.
Slowing licking it,
as you once again convulse uncontrollably
from the sensation of my tongue.

It becomes too much and you
***
***
***

You lay their exhausted,
sweat dripping from your forehead.
with that goofy satisfied smile on your face,
like nothing else in the world matters.

I watch you and admire my handiwork.
I finally speak,

“My turn”
Oct 2016 · 197
Paper or Rope?
Elizabeth Waxman Oct 2016
paper or rope?

Breathing so heavy your chest hurts,
yet you feel like you have no air.
Falling to your knees as you walk into your home,
the sob pushing out of your mouth.

Pulling yourself up
you bang your head against the wall,
until sweet gooey blood
crawls down your face.

Too many feelings this time?
Maybe you need more?
Will writing work now,
or is it just the end?

You had rope saved for today,
already tied in the noose.
Can words save you till tomorrow,
Or have your rhymes all dried out.
old poem I never had a chance to upload
Oct 2016 · 657
New Friends
Elizabeth Waxman Oct 2016
These ones seem nice.
These ones seem legitimate.
But i'm still worried.
Worried they will leave
like all the others.
Then I will be alone again.
I shouldn't get attached,
but I always do.
Maybe they wont leave me?
Maybe these ones like me?
The ones in the past just pretended.
It was an act.
I have to try and trust again.
Hope this time
These new friends
Really are the best.
Oct 2016 · 221
To My Mother
Elizabeth Waxman Oct 2016
What did I do
To deserve your hate?
I mean your my mom
For gods sake.

When I get hit
It hurts
When I get slapped
It stings.

You call me
*****
*****
****.
When all I try to do
Is please you.

You make me feel worthless
You've made me wanna die.
You've made me make my skin
Bruised
Or bleed.

You're words are like fire
Branded into my brain.
When I'm alone
I hear you.

But then it's ok
Because you would buy?
A new toy
A new outfit.
You would say "im sorry"
And say you love me.
But the next day
Start again.

Until my psyche is destroyed
And my brain is confused.
Until inside I'm dead.

I see myself as sub human
I've had a noose around my neck
So close to stepping off.
So close to ending it all.

Why do you hate me?
A child you adopted.
A child you abused.
That grew into this broken woman
you see before you.
Oct 2016 · 560
Dear Birth Mother
Elizabeth Waxman Oct 2016
Why do I think you care?
Why do I think you remember me?
Or even care?
I know you're ignorant
I know you don't know
I know you weren't informed
But then why do I hate you?

You probably are married
Two kids
Nice job
Nice house

You gave your first up to give them that
They got a nice house
Parent with good job
Went to a good school district
But feel abandoned by you!

What would you say if you knew?
If you saw your kid get slapped?
Get emotionally abused everyday
Get screamed at for nothing
Or for even doing chores.

Would you care she cried every night?
A 7 year old praying for another family
A 10 year old praying for her mother!
I pretend you wouldn't
It's easy to hate you
When I don't know you
Do you mind I hate you?

Would you care I hurt myself?
That I've left my skin bruised
And scarred?
That I've had thought of dying since age 11?
It's easier to pretend
That you forgot me
Out of sight out of mind
Leaving sealed fills
And no names listed.
Oct 2016 · 383
True Friends
Elizabeth Waxman Oct 2016
When you talk they call you Annoying
They say you talk to much
They make fun

When your quiet they ask
what's wrong
They ask why your not talking

You start not knowing what to do
When everything you do is wrong
You might give up
Isolate yourself with your thoughts
Talk to yourself again
Question everything you ever say

Or meet new people
Who won't care if you rant
Who won't mind if you want quiet
And you will listen to them too
And you will sit next to them
If they quietly read
And these are the people
Who should be your friends.
Oct 2016 · 698
Stereotypes?
Elizabeth Waxman Oct 2016
Is poetry all stereotypical?
Can one now write without cliché?
To write romance like Shakespeare
Or depressed thriller like Poe
Is now considered cliché, taboo, and old

What is left for us?

I say rid YOURSELF of stereotype
Rid YOUSELF of taboo
rid YOURSELF of your own clichés
And create anew

I wish to throw up *** scenes
**** out the angst with the rest of the waste!
Those are MY clichés. MINE

I will breathe in the romance!
Swallow the comedy whole.
Done too much?
Maybe by another
But not I.

You ask us the write,
But not mimic the greats.
It's only cliché if we've done it,
Let it become a stereotype of us
And have it consume our bodies.

So I will write poems
Of natures beauty
Of fantasy dreams
And it will not be cliché
Because it will come from me.
From the deepest reaches of my soul
Through my guts and blood
It is forged like a sword.

So call it cliché if I am to write
The same way as the greats.
It won't make it less beautiful
Or any less new.
Oct 2016 · 138
Anxiety Relief
Elizabeth Waxman Oct 2016
Breath in
Breath out
Over and over
Till the lungs completely fill.
Till the heart beats steady.
The world can stop
The planets stop spinning.
The kettle whistle silences.
The only sound is air
Rushing down your throat.
The hands stop shaking
Only little twitches remain.
What was once clammy sweaty skin
Now feels cool
Like a ghost is hugging you
Breath in
Breath out
Keep going
Just by one day.
Oct 2016 · 144
Self Hatred
Elizabeth Waxman Oct 2016
You are worthless
Nobody likes you
Their smiles are fake
They can't wait for you to leave
They wanna ***** about you
How stupid you are
How juvenile you act.

If you were normal they might like you
If you learned to take a joke
If you could understand the references
Sarcasm
Or metaphors they use.

If you were normal they might like you
If you weren't so ugly
If you could function
To order food
To blend it

But you're not normal
You're a freak
That nobody likes
And nobody ever will
Oct 2016 · 195
Hurricane
Elizabeth Waxman Oct 2016
Hurricane

I'm the wind that breaks your roof
The rain that floods your streets
I **** the power
I **** the sunshine
In the sky
And your heart

Like a child you get excited to see me
The first time wanting a new experience
Then you get older
You know what I am
You might fear me
Or just get annoyed
But either way
You don't want me to come

I should stay away
In some cozy place
Like in the middle of the ocean
And when I come you can run
To a place without me
Or a shelter
With a sturdy roof I can't get in.

You wish you could **** me
Shoot a knife made of light
Through my grey clouds
But it's fine

When you come out of hiding
I will be gone
I'll disappear
My raging clouds
Will fade away
Into nothing
And you'll be fine

Till you hear once again I'm on my way
Mar 2015 · 355
Invisible Predator
Elizabeth Waxman Mar 2015
Eli always follows me.
He is on the walls,
the floor,
even in the bathroom.

He looks at me with bloodshot eyes.
His hair is sticking straight up,
like a frightened cat.
His whole body twitches,
but his eyes never leave me.

He hates people.
He never learned how to get along with them.
He always puts nooses around his neck,
or bruises on his body.
Sometimes it’s too horrific for me to even look at.

The worst is when I’m with friends.
When I’m laughing,
having fun,
and feeling like nothing can go wrong.

He can’t stand to see this,
it makes his eyes get ever redder
and more crazy.
He would try to choke me,
try to punch me in the gut.

My friends can’t see that,
so I have to try and ignore him.
I still feel Eli though.
I sense him staring at me
with his crazy eyes.
When I feel like I can’t breath
I know he is trying to **** me
once again
Nov 2014 · 201
The End?
Elizabeth Waxman Nov 2014
As a hold this gun against my head
I start the think
I start to dread
I look for something in my life
That will stop me from pulling the trigger tonight

I start at home 
My family lined up
My brother shouting ***** 
And my mom screaming **** 
The fade out slowly 
With scowls on their face 
As I continue my search
My hand starts to shake

My friends are before me 
All happy and bright 
I try to get closer 
There backs I do find 
I struggle and struggle 
Until my face hits the ground 
One by one they fade
Pointing and laughing 
My eyes start to water
My finger gets ready 
But my mind starts to wander

I see myself now 
In a mirror so clear
I must find good in me 
For my fate I fear 
My body seems to change
My eyes they look crazy 
My reflection starts to talk 
"Go die already"
It starts the bleed from all limbs 
With black in it's eyes 
I hear a great boom 
And suddenly no more lies
Nov 2014 · 232
Alien
Elizabeth Waxman Nov 2014
I see the blue light
As my body grows heavy
A spark in the distance 
A fly in the mind

I see the blue light
Coming closer to me
The nearer it comes 
The less I can breath 

I see the blue light 
As it almost blinds me
It's clearing my mind
I can hear a faint scream 

My body grows light
I turn to try and see
But now the blue light 
Is a beam 

My mind is completely blank
The voice is far forgotten 
My body no longer tight 
Now I am happy
To no longer be heavy
Nov 2014 · 264
Seperated
Elizabeth Waxman Nov 2014
Outside the box looking in
Waiting to be invited again
The warm hands guide me towards
And then they order and use 
Until my hands are sore

Completely satisfied 
I'm pushed out once more 
Until they want me again 
When they are needy or bored

My hands compare none
To the pain in my mind
Every time thinking
They will keep in inside

Used as a toy 
Put away when I'm done 
Or a dog *******
Waiting for an owner to come

I press my face against the glass 
Knowing it will never be my home 
I smash my head through it 
Pure silence, not a groan

My blood scattered around
My life sacrificed for what?
To help those who feel down 
And connect the two worlds 
To make the box everyone's home
Nov 2014 · 214
Temporary Freedom
Elizabeth Waxman Nov 2014
Air rushing in my eyes
Gliding through the clouds
Souring over buildings
Feeling invincible
Feeling immortal
Free from the oppression
Fees from the chains
That hold me in place
Now free for a day
In the moonlight night
The **** puddles on buildings
Where I land gracefully
To be free of the judgement
Free to be me once more
Until it is time to return to the chains
To the molded to the norm
But I shall not think that
Because for now I am free
Flying through the clouds
To feel invisible
Immortal
For one more day
Nov 2014 · 284
Beautiful Nightmare
Elizabeth Waxman Nov 2014
Closing my eyes
Images burn me
Break my sleep
And my mind

My body hanging
Finally not tense
Eyes rolled back
As I dangle by my neck
Is that how I"ll be free?

Red on the floor
Sticky
Blood
Smoke coming from the barrel
A game of Russian roulette
Where I have lost?
Maybe
But it is only me

I open my eyes
And think about what I see
What I want from me
What I feel from these
Guilt?
Pleasure?
Jealously?
That I feel my skin
And my heart beating.
That instead of the relief
I choose to live
And cry everyday
And will never feel free

But surrounded by friends
I want to make this moment last
This last burst of freedom
Before I go back

To the lust for relief
And the want for death

I just to want to last
To keep forever
The feelings when I'm hugged
When I feel safe
And can relax
My muscles
my mind
My defensive wall

Maybe one day
The imagines will go
But for now
I ignore them
And try to sleep
And when I wake
Try to be happy
The images are fake
Jun 2014 · 303
Untitled
Elizabeth Waxman Jun 2014
Tick toc
Tick toc
The only sound that echoes  
In the night full of stars

My lamp the only light
The beautiful silence
The usually loud bodies
Now lying like dead corpses

Their breath slow and even
Looking so peaceful for once
Enjoying these few hours
Before they rise

This is the time my friend come out
The dark figure on my wall
The one I tell everything to
The one who will sit there and listen

What I would wish to be it
Looking so large and powerful
No more yelling in my ear
No more torture in my soul

But a coward it is also
Scared once light leaves
Leaving me in the dark
Alone I cannot speak

Once the sun can rise
Alone I will be once more
The bodies soon will rise
And the fear will once again grow

Only the thought of night
To see my friend once more
To cry and laugh and play
To be once again whole

I cannot say about her
Because I know people would say
A girl friends with her shadow
Must be very strange

— The End —