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Jan 2017 · 1.3k
I'm a Feminist!
Hayley Siebert Jan 2017
I'm a feminist.
I'm a feminist because 85000 women are ***** every year
I'm a feminist because domestic violence will effect 1 in 4 women and 1 in 6 men
I'm a feminist because a woman has a right to wear no make up and a man has a right to wear make up
I'm a feminist because if a woman faces difficulty in terminating a pregnancy why doesn't the man for leaving in the first place?
I'm a feminist because a father has as much rights to his children as the mother
I'm a feminist because 1 in 5 women aged between 15 and 59 have experienced ****** assault
I'm a feminist because I believe in equal pay regardless of race, religion and gender
I'm a feminist because a 1/3 of people blame the victim for their **** or assault
I'm a feminist because 12000 men are ***** every year
I'm a feminist because I believe it is ok for men to cry!
I'm a feminist because male victims of abuse deserve the same support as females
I'm a feminist because most women in the UK do not have access to a **** crisis center
I'm a feminist because what I do with my ****** shouldn't determine my self worth
I'm a feminist because there are 5700 cases of FGM in the UK alone
I'm a feminist because a women has a right to cover or uncover her body
I'm a feminist because middle aged men are the at the highest risk for suicide
I'm a feminist because who you fall in love with shouldn't be a sin
I'm a feminist because crimes against properties receive harsher punishments than crimes against a person
I'm a feminist because everyone has a right to say "No"
I'm a feminist because my position as a woman shouldn't be determined by whether I breed or not
I'm a feminist because no ones gender determines their career in life
I'm a feminist because my ****** shouldn't prevent or deter me from body modifications
I'm a feminist because women are far more likely to be assaulted or killed by their partners or ex partners
I'm a feminist because everyone has a right to education and health care
I'm a feminist because everyone has a right to practice their religion
I'm a feminist because being a man is not determined by the size of his ***** nor the amount of women he has ******
I'm a feminist because men can be pampered too
I'm a feminist because fathers deserve as much time as mothers off work to be with their children
I'm a feminist because manspreading is pathetic and sexist
I'm a feminist because of the Suffragette movement
I'm a feminist because of Elizabeth Tudor, Anne Boleyn, Boadicea , Cleopatra.
I'm a feminist because I needed no father to learn how to be strong, loud and powerful
I'm a feminist because my Mother raised me on her own
I'm a feminist because my mother inspired me to be as loud and as crazy as her
I'm a feminist because my father beat my mother
I'm a feminist because my uncle committed suicide
I'm a feminist because my brother is branded a freak for his mental illness
I'm a feminist because my sister is branded a scrounger for being a mother
I'm a feminist because I buy my boyfriend flowers and pay for meals and treats
I'm a feminist because the man who sexually abused me walked free
I'm a feminist because the ex that abused me branded me a *****
I'm a feminist because I can be as brutal as any man in the metal scene
I'm a feminist because songs shouldn't glorify **** or violence against women
I'm a feminist because being blonde doesn't mean I'm dumb
I'm a feminist because no one should touch anyone or grab their *****!
I'm a feminist because my pads and tampons are not a luxury but a necessity as I control control the bleeding from my womb
I'm a feminist because my breast tissue is no different from a mans yet why must I be shamed for uncovering them?
I'm a feminist because no ones bodies should be sexulised against their will
I'm a feminist because I shouldn't be made to wait until 25 to have a smear test
I'm a feminist because I came from no man's rib but a woman's womb!
I'm a feminist.

"I will have but one mistress here! And no master!"
Jan 2017 · 828
Hayley Siebert Jan 2017
I do not write to be cruel
I write to survive

I've seen what work mental illness makes out of people.
Self harm, drugs, drink, sectioning, suicide

Write to make sane the insane world
To ponder out the life I have lived
Tis better on paper, than on skin.

Tis better to be writing than hanging.

I want to leave my mark on this earth
With words.

Words enlighten, words frighten
Words teach, Words fight

You taught me my words
Now let me use them.

And lets hope I will reach 30
For if I don't, least you may have my words
When all else is gone.
Jan 2017 · 513
Hayley Siebert Jan 2017
I wish you knew me
but you don't.

Where were you!
I needed you!
As my father before, you left me

You two never left me when I was a babe!
When I was trapped in that glass box
The entrappings of wires and needles
of life machines, and sterile rooms

But, you left me now.

"You only did it for MY attention"
You are MY mother, it is natural for me to want your attention!
You always make it about "you"

Well allow me to do so.

I am ashamed of you!
You make me tremble and sick
You make me weep and cut
You make me thick with strife
You make me hate this life.

Why are my parents so toxic!

One's a woman beater, the others suicidal
This is about you.

I look at you, my mother and all I see is what I must force my eyes to see
Reality has come forward.
Truth has come forward.

You are the reason I do not want to become a mother!
Could I bear to put my own flesh and blood through
The horror you slew all us three through.

Could I bring forth life, only to want to abandon it in death!
Blame it! Shame it! Damage it!

How can I look to you?
When all I see is a mother who makes me hate my skin
My poor siblings, the 3 crucified

You think you know me.
The amount of men I gave myself too
Drunk and drugged myself up
Sliced myself as if I were butchers meat!
All because my Father and Mother are toxic!!!!

My father left me in life
You wished to leave me in death.
Me, Pig, Abby.
Look at your children. For you do not know them at all.

For if you did, why are each and everyone of us shattered?
*****? abused? rejected? forlorn?


When they find me, you will know I was never selfish
If you could leave me in death, so can I

And 30 years will have never been reached from 1993
Jan 2017 · 426
Pull the plug
Hayley Siebert Jan 2017
You tell me I'm selfish
But who was left to clean the blood?
Who left their children, for their love twas never good enough!
We were never good enough for you to live...
we were only good enough for you to die.

I took my fill, repeated history
as my uncle before me
walked between life and death
even before I left your womb
I was on the edge, between worlds
lost in the void

My heart stopped twice
And it has tried to stop ever since
all it has ever wanted, was to STOP

You were rushed out
with every peeping light
every flashing siren, every nurse and doctor
There is no power in motherhood
where death is concerned

Tiny little babe, with no air to breathe
no strength to thrive and no life to live
was forced yet to live

By "force" I mean you.

You call me selfish
40 intoxicating pills later
You call me selfish
A bloodied arm later
You call me selfish
23years later.

In truth I was forced to live
You are selfish
You forced me to live
a life you couldn't even live for...

You are selfish
because you failed to pull the plug
Dec 2016 · 561
God forgive them...
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
The boy in the stripped pyjamas
The experiment of a Jew and Muslim
Schindler's list, the pianist
The blood on God's land
Of innocence, of Mother, daughter, son and Father

We have learned nothing
We play it on the cinema screen
We read it in the books
Yet? We have learned nothing

I am tired, tired of the pain..
Of the bloodshed, of the abuses
Of the wars, murders, rapes and doom

You look to history
What do you find?
Holocaust, slavery, war, witch hunts, inquisition
The hangman's noose
The stake, the torture chamber
The gas chamber  

They say "Its different now, we're civilised"
But you know in your heart of hearts
It is not...

70 years ago they thought they were civilised
200 years ago they thought they were civilised
600 years ago they thought they were civilised

This land is scorched
This land is tainted
Of a million souls
Christian, black, Jew, Muslim, human
And what have we learned?

**** all

The **** salute, The KKK
The Israeli fear, the trauma
The stolen Land, Standing rock!
Gaze strip, stripped of rights
Syria weeps! Towers struck
Virginity ripped, solider beheaded
Daughter's sold, Son's beaten
Trump has power
Nukes galore!
The Madonna burying her son!

We seek the scapegoat
Once twas women, twas Jew
Now its the women in a veil
My friend!

I will never force the hatred of the past into this present
I will walk side by side with her
Take her to the temple mount! The wailing wall!
Hold her hand and cry for Abraham and Muhammad to hear

We are all children of God!
Blood will not make the soil fertile
God forgive them

I see today in the chosen people's nation
The replay of history
A family torn from their beds
Homeless in death
At the mercy of a government that hates them
And soldiers that will **** them...

These people of God
Stricken by prejudiced, tormented by centuries
Will become the monsters, they so fear

I have no birthright to that land
No land baptised in blood is any land of mine!
Nor is it the land of my ancestors

6 million Jews did not die
So we may become the oppressors
To march in two by two
To tear away the Mother from her children!

No, no, no
I have no birthright, I gladly give it up
Give it back to the family, or sell it for charity
That land is no ones

It is Gods!

And look what you've done!
Oil in the ocean, gases in the sky!
Death of the splendid life

What have we done? What have we learned...

God forgive them
**They know not what they do
Dec 2016 · 465
The Father's Daughter
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
I will always be a Siebert
I will live and die a Siebert

I will die before you do
My soul escaped my body,
in that glass box

My father
this man they all loathe
But cannot ****

They will **** me
Me and brother
never belonged

We have his blood
we were both strapped to a machine
We were both stricken of life

Lungs scarred
The voices are genetic
This introvert loneliness

This manic death
Slowly consuming me
I walk with my father's name

His shadow over my crown
This jewish rat! This stupid blonde dead baby
I will never belong

My brother calls out
He has my eyes
He sees what I see

Born of the same stock
Faces lost in books
Perspective of the world
from the view of education

Horst? Can you hear me
I am my father's daughter
I will always be a Siebert
This is how I will die

Like you, I will die young
I will never marry
I will never bear children

I am nothing, nemo
The name will die with me
But I am his daughter

They will dance on my grave
Or they will mourn the loss of their scapegoat

My body is hallow
I lost my soul
God forgive me

Saul is his hebrew image
Where is he now?
Dead, the man I knew is dead

The star of David
they all mock
But they forgot

How history repeats itself
How the creeping of death is vast
Silent on cold dark nights

To die is easy, to live is hard
I will die a Siebert
I will be eternal in my Father's name
That is my crime
and it will **** me

It killed me then
It just didn't take the body
Dec 2016 · 598
If I die (my will)
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
If  I die by my hand (or another)
Promise me this

Bury me with my babies
lace them in my arms
So we may rest together

Do not lay me like a corpse
but as I would asleep
on my side, curled in a ball
So my mother may tuck me in one last time

Dress me in white
for the wedding dress I will never wear
place the star of David around my neck
so I may slumber with God

But above all, publish my works
my poems, in this diary
and the Marilyn one (it has paint on the back)
publish them not for fame
but to show that I once lived
and a part of me shall live on forever...
Dec 2016 · 422
My Blood
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
Blood lettings, for my thigh and wrist
My blood like fire, the swiftness of grace
My flesh is above all and yet disowned
My spirit is fierce as fires doth burn
These creatures will learn…
Middle class brats, bred from base corruption
A softness and kind of conformity for their kind
Take, steal, feed, greed and gluttonous ******!
But oh how they craft their own plights
Little *****, to think they know plight!
Arch, I’ll give them plights, oh I shall give them sullen plight
Tortuous, tormenting, agonising, haunting plights
Plights of the daughter brought before the beast
Plights of the family too poor too common
Plights of the body taken against will
Plights for my blood!
Your petty little girl, plain Jane, boring and dull, like a corpse
Bring her to the beast and she’d how she’ll fair?
Ha! She is nothing of the woman I am…
Take that ****** and let him see the horrors of thy household
Many are alike mine in this lower domain
He’d break like glass to the father who raises his fist!
And you, what of you? Boy Solider…
You speak lies snake! Not a killer, but only of truth!
Sexuality all in tatters, heart forsaken by she cheated
Dearest Mother to tend to thee at all hours
You never tasted poverty, never saw the world
The world through my blood
None of you, not she lifeless and dead
Nor he pitiful and weak, and you another Father but in boy form!
I pray you never have daughters, I hope you take a liking for men
Never breed your filthy bloodline
Middle class ****! Judging, gossiping, lying snake!
But in those 7 weeks you took a taste of thy blood, like the wine at the alter
It was burning hot like magma, it was filling and sickening
Sweet, bitter, sour, to it your eyes once so blind
Saw the world a new
You saw the ****, the abuse, the bulling, the carer, the suicide, the mental illness
You saw your fictional demons in mine
The blood upon my hands, twas ours
It rain through us all, like a fire
It burned and scorched us with the hands of reality
And once it was done, only I was left standing
With one foot out the door, into the world reborn
But my old blood still remains upon you boy soldier
And I carry the new
Dec 2016 · 523
Phoenix Rising
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
The stake they put her to
encased in iron bound
Tightened with hay and perfumed with betrayal
The white lace adorned the flesh
The flesh that tempted him into manhood
Now a martyr he would make of her!
Joan de Arc
In no time did he tender the flames to her pyre
They lapped and licked at her
She wept a while, for her heart was broken
Her mind was broken
That which all she came to be was broken
and sent to burn
Hellfire came and took her
The white lace and blonde locks eaten
No screams, for the tears silenced her
and the creamy palate of flesh was cinders
It faded to ash and fell before their blind eyes
Blinded by their families sake
The boy soldier turned his eyes astray
but it had came to pass
she was right, Her words were true
No fire could burn she!
For she was the fire!, A she wolf, A shield Maiden
You cannot burn that which has lighting in her heart
and fire in her soul!
She arose from the ashes naked and pure
Golden and burning like a solar storm
The boy soldier marveled watched on
From her tortures, her torments
She rose higher above her death, her corpse, her ashes
To a new her!
Smothered in battle scars!
Her eyes a pit of combustion
Her past was cinders, her future was burning
Her crimson lips parted to roar with all the fire of a dragon
I am a woman, a warrior, a soldier! I am the fire!
Her fiery wings spread, the flames embraced her beauty
Her eyes gleamed like sunflare
She was the woman known as Tartarus
The woman all men should fear but desire, Valkyrie
She was the Phoenix rising, rising from the ashes
**Remember the pain, but learn the lesson
Dec 2016 · 362
St Joan De Arc
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
Wanderers a wandering
She cut off her hair
a beauty still pondering
“Who I dare to love me fair? but they love me nair, and I care, I care”
Is all her years, her youth wasted
for all the kisses she could’ve tasted
none are as bittersweet, as the love she can never have
Her worth is always half empty
the glass is smashed, against her carcass
the broken shard, to her wrist
You’ll find broken open bodies
scorched by the empty words
persona, persona, worship her like the holy Madonna
But you have killed her!
White garments adorn her loveless flesh
A beauty to be fed unto saints sufferings
the sacrament was never christ’s body!
Where art love, her love!
Lord grant her a love, give her a love
A beauty wandering, pondering, dying!
These mind takes a cancer of all its own
It is time for the pyre
They build her stake higher
They burn fires
Bound her to the stake
a heart so fit to break
within monsters are to awake
burn her alive or drown her in a lake!
She is silver chained, you possess the spark
she is the sacrifice
The god of fire commands it
The loveless beauty, of wine and bread
will dine in ashes this night
Biblical lilith for his lapping tongues
You light her! She screams!

Arch for my lover doth **** me!
My beauty is scorched, tis ashes!
My eyes now blackened, no more blues
No more beauty for my dearest has tied me to the wickerman
He hath taken the torch to my flesh
He watches on as the flames have my body
The body, the love never good enough for him
Is for the flames, for I am his Joan
Dec 2016 · 376
What is God?
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
God, the concept is a highly controversial one. A subject of peace, love, war and bloodshed. A being that cannot be described nor conceived by human thought alone. What is God? It differs from mortal to mortal. Each person is shaped by their many different susceptibility hypothesis. In that their environment of social, religious and external factors would impact on their perception of things in the world. For example a child brought up with little kindness and love grows to be ever angry and insecure. God, is thus the same, if we are brought up with God or Godless or spiritual, in what manner do we view our own personal God? And how do we come to find him, her or them?

I found God, not in my upbringing nor in religion. But, within my sorrow. In my time of need God came to me. Whether through neurosis or supernatural happenings I cannot say. However, I do believe God is not found in the joy or smile of a face, but of the trials and strife we come to face in our lives. Whether through illness, grief, heartbreak, **** or whatever befalls you, you may find God or God may come to you. It is how you perceive it, is what really matters.

I found God truly, not just in fashion or in an elite manner to give myself a self image, but in soul, whilst I broke down. I broke down at university after years of suppressing my many demons. I shall not go into detail, that is rather tiresome. But I can say God gave me strength not through my Welsh nor Jewish blood, but through my willingness to survive.

My ability to carry on as we shall say, has made me see the world in greater vision. With understanding, empathy and of acquiring a more accepting nature. The days of misandry are over, the times of hatred towards religion are gone, and my angry atheist approach gave the wrong impression of my fellow atheists. I was once bitter and cruel, with hatred in God rather than disbelief, and hatred in those who worshipped and believed. I now understand it is to both love and respect the knowledge and belief of others, no matter what difference in the path we may take.

For I, believe we are ALL children of God. He or she or them is too great of a creator to judge us merely by faith alone. But by the pureness of our souls, by our selfless deeds and true intentions are we judged accordingly. A faithful Catholic will be purged if they may abuse the innocent child, a starch atheist may be accepted into God's grace through their charitable works. A heterosexual woman may be sinful for cheating, but a homosexual man may still be far more just and kind to his lover and thus far more virtuous.

God put me through hell, so I may come to understand heaven. As in what mankind may achieve if we work together. May we overcome the evolution of diseases, of global warming, the evils or abuse, ******, **** and war. The injustice of bullying and discrimination. God gave us a mind so complex and yet so flawed, so we may master it to his or her or their grace. Science is one manner of understanding God. Religion answers why, science answers how.

I found God, lying in my bed, a stomach in churning agony. A body battling an overdoes of a bottle of *** and a vast amount of painkillers. In the sweat of torment and nausea, did a white cool mist appear at my feet. It floated with grace and made its way to embrace me. Why you ask or how? How maybe due to my BPD or PTSD.

Why, is because hours before in a state of screams and suicide I shouted to God as I downed my pills and sliced myself up. I called to him or her or them, begging for help and aid. For answers, for questions but above all love. Thus, God came down to show me love. Even when I wanted to die, God made me live.
Dec 2016 · 361
Little Dove
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
Snow white curls, lagoon blue eyes so sullen. How does it feel? To feel too much. Everything is never done nor felt by halves. It is felt as a whole. A sharp twist of the stomach and weakening of the knees. The slow decent to the floor, with black smearing tears cascading with every inch. On the floor wrapped in a ball. Weeping into her own embrace. Every noise a sound of sorrow.

This is what its like to feel so much and too much. Like a bolt of lightning against the bark, splintered to ash. The fire scorches the heart and consumes it, it is dampened by her weeping tears. She has felt this pain before. She was so happy, her smiles so rare worth more than gold. She put effort and work this time as many times before, and it was all in vain. She remembers...

A little girl barely 13 or 14. Waiting. Hair styled, clothes smart. Pocket money in her purse and such tender selfless love in her heart. That was all in vain. He never turned up. He let her down, and he would repeat this offence as if he had no conscience. She remembers her unanswered calls and texts. She remembers.

Now, she sits crying into her tiny arms again. She is that little girl again. She just wanted to make someone happy, she just wanted to love someone. Just as before. Now as then excuses. He spoke of them, to cover his spineless back. Someone else was to blame. As was this time. She remembers the pain. The pain of whatever I do, no matter how much I love it is not good enough...

The past reminds her. The past haunts her. Poor Dove. Such a frail creature, so hurt, so scared, so forlorn, cannot handle such torment. It is a trigger, a trigger upon a gun. Reaching out, the pain is too great! Like gasoline unto the fire, the flames engulf her. The fires of pain. She reaches out, to self destruction. Convert the inner torment to physical. Poor Dove, she will clip her own wings. She will baptise herself, in blood. Bleed the pain away. The fires of torture, of the past will fade with every cut. The deeper the better. Because she only wants to sleep. Peace.

Peace from the hurt, the past, the triggers, from it all. She grips the blade, a tiny left hand trembling against the flesh. Sitting on her bed, heavily breathing. Tears still flowing down her cheeks into the softness of her *****. The red streams dance down the contours and curves of her legs. It runs between her fingers and down her arm. It is warm, it is the hurt too great to take. The fire which burns her. The past which tortures her. She is quick and furious with every strike, it is her own downfall which brings her comfort. It is her own death which will silence the demons of her past. She begs to meet God. She, Little Dove feels too much, tis too much to take.
Dec 2016 · 236
What I see
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
My mother told me once that trying to explain our condition to you, is like trying to force a Lion to eat a carrot. So instead of telling you or talking at you, I am better off writing it instead. Word for word, with greater time and more privacy. At 5:25am I have all the time in world, to explain to you what I see...

The scars and cuts on my flesh, of course it is hardly anything to be proud of, nor anything to show off. But letting the wound breath allows it to heal better. Surely such insane behaviour is just a phase, a cry for attention, a childish antic. Hardly, I’ve been cutting since 2005 and I dare not discuss as the reason as to why. That is too painful. I rather cut than express my inner turmoil as I find myself an adult, who must learn to stand alone, not running to mummy or daddy in times of need. So my cry for attention is flawed. A childish antic, not at all. This self damaging behaviour aids in helping me cope with my swirl of unstable episodes of emotions. The pills can only do so much, and my nurse has a habit of loosing contact. And who I am to discuss such painful and shameful matters to those whom already have too much on their plates, not I. Those in crisis team are too bored and tired to care either.

In any case you’ve heard it all before. I seldom want to hear it either.  The self harming also deters me from more serious damage such as suicide attempts, think about it. These minor cuts are nothing to 36 pain killers and a bottle of ***, trust me I know...I agree with you that I am ashamed of it, I am ashamed of everything, my body, my so called friends, my Father, my Mother’s illness, my sister’s  and brother’s demons, my niece, my ex and Glyn.

To be frank, I am not very confident, I have little friends, hardly go out and a father who hates me. At times I blame myself, and when as now there is no one to talk to, or find solace in at stupid o clock I find a blade. I can hardly run to my mum about the nightmares, flash backs when she herself is ill. As are you all. I want to help you all, but I cannot and there is where I have failed.

So a blade helps calm my vortex of moods, manic, depressive etc. Even when I feel numb, not of this earth, out of place. I need to feel something, anything so I cut. I cut to feel real. It silences the voices and hallucinations. Alas shouting at me before strangers in public is hardly the best thing, you sound familiar to Joe and my Father. Calling me stupid, only makes the pain worse, which only leads to more self destructive behaviour. Doing so before others creates more shame in my distort self image. It will not make it any better, only worse. When someone harms themselves through food, drugs, suicide do they remark them as stupid. No, you try to aid them or aid yourself in coming to terms with it. How do you expect to help me if you treat me as the bullies and abusers once did?

Nellie self harms, this I know. This I understand too. In a life of her horrors can you blame her, at such an age when it comes to the surface again. She thinks herself ugly and fat, you think calling her stupid will make her feel any better? But her self hating behaviour is due to your behaviours of self loathing.  She has learned it from years of being exposed to it, yet the self harm is something she never knew I did! Swear to God. I speak kindly with understanding to her, with all the care to be commanding, to the point but empathise with her plight. To this day she has not repeated self harm. Not due to horrid remarks but due to sympathy and mature understanding.

My mother did not join in with your taunts because she has learned and understood I nor her can always cope. She knows I’d rather punish myself than put more weight upon her weakling shoulders. She maybe a mother, but she is also human. She doesn’t want to hear of all my tortures, it pains her too much and I love her too much to drag her through it as well. I often do not feel good enough for her, which is the most painful issue of all.

I do my best, writing, filling up the pages, drawing and singing, but there is only so much you can do especially at 2am. I do not want to harm myself, but it is the need to. A horrid need of trying to deal with the hurricane of episodes in my head. Its like an atomic bomb, a volcano that wishes to destroy and reek havoc. By calming it by hurting myself to a minor extent, I do not bring harm to others in the forms of sorrow or grief. I do not wish to die, I wish to live, but it is down to whether I feel good enough to. So, before you mock me again, think back to these words and what strength it took to write them. To the point and with great respect for you and my family. It is with great love I also write this for self harm is a difficult concept to understand, especially when your generation was strapped to the mains to zap the insanity out of them. Remember knowledge is power, and here is my knowledge to you.
Dec 2016 · 240
I'm Sorry
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
I’m sorry that I breathe, I’m sorry I took the blade
I’m sorry I turned my arm into a ****** shade
I’m sorry I’m his daughter, I’m sorry I’m alive
I’m sorry in that glass box I somehow seemed to thrive
I’m sorry I feel too much, I’m sorry I am so raw
I’m sorry I am a Siebert and that **** is such a gore
I’m sorry I should’ve died, I never should have been
Should’ve ended it all when Daddy left me with him
I tried to be a good girl, I tried to behave
I only wanted health love, that is all I truly crave
Dec 2016 · 604
Snowflake Syndrome
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
Your self entitlement is sickening
When did psychosis become so beautiful?
The image of victim hood so appealing

What must you weep for?
When mummy and daddy pay for your carelessness
Your car, your phone, your clothes

The spoiled soul
intent on self destruction
when you can no longer consume
self harm is on fleek

Your little mind a cascade of self inflicted bruises
Throw yourself into a war zone
The day in the human traffic
Sit under a *******'s glare
live under the shadow of poverty
Sleep by the plague streets

Oh you poor pathetic hipster
Here, have the BPD and PTSD
Sleep with one eye open!
With the knife and dog by your pillow
For the abuser that vowed to return
For the shadows that haunt the night
For the insomnia that wracks your brain
For the voices of a demonic opera

This is not special
This is hell
I am NOT special!
The world owes me nothing!

For what I have, what I want
I fight, I strive, I survive
I am not a snowflake
There are many more like me

Who live by the ashes of temples
By the bombs of sands
In the wake of unclean hands
For virginity stolen!
For childhood lost
By war, poverty, disease, ****

Your ****** cry
with all the middle class entitlement
That muffles out the true cry

The cry of a child in the Gaza strip
The cry of forced marriage
The cry of the cancer bearer
The cry of a soldier in the heat of battle
The cry of a mother who could not feed her babe
The cry of the ***** ripped out
The cry of the elderly
The cry of the camps
The cry
to which you find so pretty
which you know nothing of...

You mold it your life
of middle class ****!
Your glorified bedroom
a western modern pit
Iphone, computer, holiday in the sun
Yet you still feel undone?

So you putrid little fetus
Take my hand, we shall go
where your entitlement can not tread
where the ***** are forgotten and suffering are dead
Dec 2016 · 643
My ability to breed
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
Don't tell me I won't understand life
until I have birthed life.
I understand life
and the compassion and passion that comes with it.
I know it through my love and care for my baby bunnies.
Through protecting them, feeding them, nursing them
and then parting with them.
You do not need to be a mother to adore and respect life,
you need only be human....
my ability to breed has nothing to do with my ability to love
Dec 2016 · 445
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
And mental illness has become a trend
suffering is beauty
self harm is fashionable
everyone wants to be a victim
yet these little fetus's
have had the sliver spoon so far up their ***
they can barely stand
Dec 2016 · 833
You can't kill me
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
If ****** could not **** my family...
What makes you think you could **** me?

What makes you think you could do me harm...
When the greatest harm hath been done

My blood is very much alive
Of fire, of Ghettos, of **** threats and hallow mass graves

I am the daughter of the Jews you could not ****
My grandfather watches me

Stands at the foot of my bed
With a shotgun to any man that tries it again

The last female, the last
Tis my duty, tis my right

Twas my father's to protect me
But ****** did not betray his daughter...

As my ancestors I was groped, stripped, bruised, ravaged
Spewed out to unclean, tainted, filth

History transcended through me
My camp was a house full of vice and sin

Where innocence was met with ****** eyes
That which cast disdain unto their memory

My Semitic heritage was concealed
Hidden as my scars and torn *****

My people were *****!
This flesh of mine no different...

But I stand, I did not die...
No pervert of old age, nor madman of Austria
Could **** me...

No, it was the closest man to home
That did the damage...left me to the beast

Dragged me into Warsaw of perverse intention
and like the rest of the world ignored the cries

My people and I cried out for justice...
and history as always repeats itself
and we were ignored...

But I live...I live...I live because my Grandfather stands by me
With a shotgun for the next man that tries it again
Dec 2016 · 664
Daughter of Noah
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
God did not intend you to die
He intended you to live

For all the abuses
For all the suffering
For each and every wound
God gave you a gift

This weaponry, this arsenal, this armour
Of talents, arts, voice
is a fire to the demons in your head

Purge the monsters
Purify them with your fire
God is always with you
God did not let you suffer in vain
He did so, so, you may learn
learn to survive, to fight, to win

Survival is in your family
It is in your *blood

Your Mother, Grandfathers
Great Grandparents

You are of the land of the dragon
You are of the land of God
Your blood of warriors Celtic born
Your blood is of Moses and Abraham

Your blood will pass onto your daughter
In your womb, lies the power of creation
The gift of life, to forge a soul

In your womb is the blood of Ariel
In your womb is the blood of Cymru
God did not intend you to die
He intended you to live
To live, to survive, to fight
Is in your *
Dec 2016 · 465
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
The Planet hell caught my ear
That of 12 years old
For mezzo nor soprano
A singer of classical genre

The riff and drum were a beautiful trance
Of Ever dream and Moondance
The dead boy's poem wept
The albums forever kept

I sang with you
Your Ghost Love score passed in the night
The wishes on notes
for she, he wrote

I found my path, when all seemed lost
To Mozart, Carmen, Tosca
A hand to the path you lead
Tear ashes upon my bed

I wished for the night
For every song that healed my plight
Years gone by from January to December
My olden day Nightwish I adore and remember
Dec 2016 · 652
I am Woman, I am Rabbit
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
A woman is a rabbit
She lives with notions determined by her ***
Thus constrained to her Father’s or husband’s will
Hunted by the predator who hungers for her flesh
Hunts in the dark of the concrete woodland
She is forced to be silent and suffer lack of wit
Forsooth her body is a puppet by the Male hand!
She forced to wed and breed
She faces a society that would **** her
And condemn her for her free mind
Tongues of blinded minds order her to undress or cover up
She must walk like that of prey
With a keen eye over her shoulder
She must console herself to the ideas and thoughts
That one day or one night she may be killed, murdered
She must play the dumb beauty, the cow on market, the ***** on heat
She isn’t powerful, or strong, or noble
She is a Rabbit….

A Rabbit is a Woman
A creature of God made out to be cute and small
Butchered, abandoned if illness takes hold, or stomachs are gluttonous
Hunted by great beasts for Frith gave them their gift to slay!
Tortured by experiment, at the will of a child they are rejected
Forlorn by notions of uneducated fools
They hide and huddled for man is their greatest enemy
This mammal is that of prey
With a keen ear scanning the hills
Bright eyes foresee the predator that lurks
They must be silent, they must be sweet, they must breed, or food to feed
They are forced to die! Forced to live!
Abused, beaten, slaughtered, they know in any moment they could be killed
They must hide their instincts, in filthy bed holes of hutches
They are forced to succumb to disease, hardly nursed
They must be petite, they mustn’t chew, they mustn’t ****
They aren’t intelligent, or strong, or noble
They are Woman…

A Rabbit is a Woman, A Woman is a Rabbit
Both hunted, beaten, abused…
Both by society and mankind used
Both are powerful, intelligent, strong and noble
I am Woman, I am Rabbit
Dec 2016 · 821
She Wolf
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
First there was eve, I am her bloodline
Lilith taught me to defy the man
I will not submit to the will of man kind
for the past is littered with the corpses of my fallen sisters!
***** and Gomorrah were ruled by men

I engulf like ***** struck down
My mind is wild, my soul untamed
***** and abused but never enslaved!
Let history speak! Let the facts cry aloud!
I am She wolf and I am proud!

Alas I shall be no white lamb
a feast for the monsters above
No desire for domestic affairs
or nature’s motherly love

My womb lies empty
My mind is full
Knowledge is power
A woman’s tool

1 in 3 and 1 in 5
You cannot **** me
I will thrive!!!!

Howl to the moon!
Howl for our lost sisters!
Howl, howl
Howl for womanhood!
Dec 2016 · 334
Distressed as Saul
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
Hark! These creatures of catacombs
Furrows and the weeping ribbons
Forsooth great beasts took a turn here
When the mind accustoms itself to violence
It bestows it….broken as the temple falling
The sword by Israel's cry!
Ghosts of the borderline!
Ghosts of the borderline!
Traumatic as hymens torn
By hands unclean by demons born
The ***** twas not consenting forlorn
Too many nights passing to the dawn

Allow when Yosef comes, his predator expression
For my milk drop flesh, he claims doth conquer
The chains of slavery he forged by Irish blood
Born from the veil of wedlock
Out of sullen sin, between husband and mistress
He took to which he hath none
Purple hues adorn the shoulder
Bare before the creases of blood
These years could not tamper the memories

So in night shade, among the ghouls
There is a hovering silver sheen
Groped by the tiny digits
I shall be its sheaf
Psychosis the cascade of reality
The distortion of time and space
An all hallows eve, the sabbath of subconscious monsters
The manic and depressive are the swinging of the pendulum
And the ****** of thy hand is the dawn of God
I fall, the intoxicating pearls down my throat
Reek in my blood, Jewish blood, Welsh blood, tainted blood
The dizzy fortitude to collapse
Will alter the reality and silence the darkness
Of faces disfigured, in death they have no stance
Thus my torment hath come to end
I give way, the sweep of the fall
Fall onto my sword…
Away from the worlds of disturb content
Away from the sacred flesh scarred and mangled
Away from the deep cavern of endless thought
To God and to my ancestors, who saw with no eyes fit to see
But see nethertheless my frail state of a tipping scale
I fall onto my sword, distressed as Saul
Dec 2016 · 820
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
I cannot keep this
This fruitless ache
This pounding in my head

There go my blades
At their works
****** arts!
Sign the dotted line in blood
Your blood!

We try to bleed it out!
each droplet an hour of agonies
crimson muck
We cried but in vain
This depressive, this manic
This open raw wound
to which everyone spits in
For tis that which they doth not see
Oh so blind to!

Therapies, forsooth! a worthless pastime
Clonazepam, Quetiapine
Dampen the mood, quieten the voices

A mind torn asunder
for of winter snow
and summer thunder
a body I do plunder
to rip out these demons
exorcise these ghouls
claw out these ghosts

This cannot be glorified
it is not beautifully broken
but tearing oneself apart
to remove the ashes in my head

Borderline personality disorder
Post traumatic stress disorder...
A poem on the effects of self harm and mental illness

— The End —