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Nikita 2d
Pull me
Push me
Force me
And trap me

Build me
Create me
Destroy me
Lie to me

Wrap me
Seal me
Deliver me
And ship me

No matter how much
You try

No matter how much
It hurts

I will escape
Categories, labels and boxes. Don’t stifle who I am. I am not a women to be silenced.
Nikita Sep 28
When I grew up. I thought that to be respected, I needed to be strong. As hard as nails.

I believed that aggression was my friend, a friend that protected me from men.

Aggression was never a friend, just a women desperate for control. Over time she became a cancer, eating away at my sanity.

She brought chaos and raged storms when she was unsure of what to do.

When she is calm, she draws me detailed pictures of suicide and sings me sweet songs of deceit.

If only setting her free was something I was strong enough to do.
Nikita Sep 28
To write of love
Is to be naked
To be seen

To be open
And vulnerable
It is terrifying
Nikita Aug 19
Ice crawls across the window pane,
As I sigh,
The warmth of my breath
Creates a cloud of whiskey stained air.

Outside, the wind screams.
It howls like a dog,
Desperate to be let in.
Desperate to escape the cold.

With a flash of light,
Howling turns to yelling
And the knocks of the wind
Suddenly turn into
Knocks of a fist against a drywall.

Thud. Crash.
Grab your popcorn.
The sounds of a storm,
Have pressed play.

Once again,
I’m taken back to a time
Where the storm is caused by a man
Not the sky.
PTSD in poetry
Nikita Jul 19
It’s been two months
Two months
Since I
Heard your screams
Wiped your tears
Held you close
Two months
Since I gave you
Up

You begged
You pleaded
I had no choice
She’s your mother
I’m sorry
Nikita Jun 30
Oh hello.
What’s your name?
That’s nice. Do you sing?
No kidding.
Oh me? Not me.
My voice shrills and kills until it...
Sorry. Did I just-?
Never mind. Yeah, okay.
I’d love that.
See you next weekend?
Great. Wait...
Before you go-?
Can you promise?
You do? Oh, you do.
It’s just- It’s just that I find it...
Great. Amazing. Wonderful.
Have fun- With her. Yeah.
Cool. Later.
A conversation in a time, space and with characters of your own creation. Feel free to reinvent the story until it makes sense to you.
Nikita Jun 24
Like the rage
Of a thousand winds
My mind spins
To and fro again

Similar to the wind
The mess inside my head
Remains invisible
Yet violent

Sometimes I wonder why
We have warnings
For tornadoes in the sky
But not a glance
Towards the hurricanes
That dwell inside

But when I picked up a pen
I began to wonder again

I thought of all the wreckage both leave behind
And realised the reason why

A tornado in the sky
Will leave wreckage for both you and I

A tornado in my mind
Will leave wreckage that only I will find

So while I pick up the mess of a thousand men
I will also pick up my pen.
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