My parents and I were talking
And then I started rapping
Some Childish Gambino
Only to have my dad say that I was never going to go anywhere in life
If I continued to listen to rap "and all that *******"
Because fast words and derogatory terms will apparently hurt your mental
When some of the brightest, highest educated people I know
listen to rap
In fact I want to pursue rap as a career
Because what is rap but poetry with a nice beat
And frankly if my parents wont support me "I don't give a **** about my family name"

I don't like stories
that end with questions.
I can't stop thinking about
it until I get some resolve,
I'll find questions
pestering the author
until my imagination is
no longer running wild.

You changed your name
from Mars to Athena.
And honestly you should
of changed it to Aphrodite.
Becuase it was so *******
easy to fall in love with you.
Someone might ask how Mars
was accurate for our relationship.
It's the roman god for War.
And there's a constant battle in my
mind over what could have been.
Tears running down my face
like the blood you have spilling
from my heart.
I don't know why I can't
forget you.
You don't want me.
I know you don't,
and it hurts as if I was
an orphaned child
and what my parents did wrong
was beat me.

I know that we'd be terrible
for each other.
We'd be so destructive.
but I can't eat.
The only problem is that,
now you can.
With me gone, you don't
have to deal with my
toxic air.
But I can't imagine
a perfect image
without my backbone
showing just to prove
that I actually have one.

I'm sorry I'm so cold.
I'm sorry that frostbite's
the only kisses I've left on your neck.
You give me butterflies,
but I am cellophane to you.
While I'm begging for your attention
for some ******* closure
you're silent.

But I can't stand stories that have
questions at the ending.
All you are is a *******
question mark.
Which is kind of funny,
because remember when we gave
ourselves tattoos?
You put a question mark on
the inside of your finger
and I didn't understand.
You are the opposite of closure.

I don't believe in ignoring an
opportunity because all that gets you
is remorse. It gets you pain.
Or at least that's what it got me.
But really, I don't think you care
anymore.
I've been abandoned before.

Athena works for your name too.
Your strategy for breaking my
heart worked so **** well.
You knew just how to
break it completely.
Have your ******* cliches
back, and all of the kisses.
All you've done is break my being.
"Don't take my words, they're
all I have left."
But you've done exactly that.
I'm speechless on what to do.

If you love something, let it go.
Right?
I'm letting go, baby.
Just like you wanted me to.

You're love is anemic
Theres barely any flow

Him
He is there
Pleather Jacket bleaching the top of his hair
He is
New
Strange
I get a weird feeling looking at his face
Fake gauges
Long eyelashes
A new student to the school
He has two of my classes
He is
--- Unidentified
I'm intrigued

I've been trying to become famous
Letting my grades slip
Creating explicit accounts
Let my name be synonymous with success
I want to be in your mouths
I want fame
I want you to Hear the word Aurora
and think of everything I am

Don't tell me I'm perfect.
Don't kiss my finger tips
and slide a necklace over
my collar bones.
Don't tell me I'm the one.
Don't kiss me goodbye because
I kissed her with
lust in my eyes just an
hour ago.
Don't tell me that I deserve
so much more than you.
Because I might reply "ditto".

I've been caught in my mind for
so long, that this has become the only
place I understand things.
She feels like he did.
Always breathing this fog
that I could never wrap my
head around, so I mistook it for
a good fuzzy feeling in my gut.
But when I'm not around her
I want to cry for the
secret kisses we shared
that I know I meant. I know I
wanted to feel her lip piercing
between my teeth
and I know that her hands between
my thighs again was something
I craved. But it's not something
I can have. I have something
that is so much better than
"secrets" when really I should
call them ***** lies.
Maybe that's why my tongue has
swollen and I can feel
cavities rotting into my teeth.
I've been trying to keep her
name in my mouth for so long,
rigor mortis has set in
and the decomposition has begun.

With this black mold inside my lungs
I knew it wouldn't be long before
you noticed the wheeze that went along
with me moaning your name.

Now don't tell me I'm perfect
because I can feel your anger
pound in your veins
harder than your dad ever hit you.
I know that when you kiss me
you don't fully push your
body against mine
and your stomach shrinks away
from my hands
because they were on her chest
earlier that week.
And you know it now.
You know now that you
aren't the only person
to have taken pleasure from
my double tongue piercing.
She felt the venom sink
in as I bit her neck and she
shivered, getting high off me
and I got drunk on her,
and we could not be healthy.

But there's nothing I could
say to reassure you
because you have seen the way
I stare at stars,
and she's an entirely different
planet to me.

Monsters in your diaphragm
you scream out your rhymes so loud
trying to find a spell
strong enough that will
expel these hiccups
putting spaces in your words.

Tying your tongue up in knots
writer's block has got you hooked
up to an IV flowing creativity.

Like a ****** addict
trying to forget the screams.
IV pumping fluid into his
veins repressing the memories.
Trying to dig them into the mud
but you see when you do that
they just harden over time
get stuck in your memory
like scars on the suicidal
mental patient trying to cut
her jugular.

See I've been to a mental hospital.
You share secrets of how the wet
towels give you friction burns and
leave scars deeper than
your nails can.
Like on the transgender girl,
Staff referring to her with her
former pronoun,
I swear I've never see a deeper
mental breakdown.

They all regret everything they've seen.
hid what happened to them deep inside.
But let me tell you.
I've been *****.
It wasn't in a dark alley,
I wasn't hog-tied and no gun
was held to my head.
But it was just as
traumatizing. I know that the way
he took my body and made it his
was wrong. But his abuse is mine.
What he did to me is mine.
I can hold the anger I have in my hand,
squish it like play dough. I can
shape it into a knife and stab him
deeper than he injected me with
his controllingness.

Moral of this ****** up poem
is to let it out. Understand that ****
happens and it ******* *****
and none of it was your fault.
But do not let it control you.
The situation held you in bounds for
as long as it could.
Do not stay with your hands behind
your back just because you're scared
the handcuffs are still there.
You can take the memories so deep in
your mind and make them cement
underneath your feet
as ground to stand on.
Grow bigger than you ever have.
And let your abuser know it's because
they broke you.
You just fixed your bones with
titanium, and now they can't touch you.