allie 29m

don't trust them.
they'll put a hammer in your heart
and refuse you from feeling.
they'll put duct tape over your lips
so and restrict you from speaking.

don't trust them.
they'll put your feelings in a blender
with gravel and ice.
they'll constantly break you
then put you back together.

don't trust them.
they can hit
and leave cuts.
they can burn
and leave scars.

don't trust them.
and you'll end off better than me.

don't trust them.
anonymous 17h

i told you i wanted forever so this ones for you
whenever i look down i see them all in my skin
the stomach scars from when he yelled at me
"stop eating all that junk food so late"
the burn mark from when she left me in the cold "i'm sorry i can't do this i have to go"
the new red ones on my thigh where you touched
"she didn't mean anything i swear"
stuck on my body forever
but never important enough to be ink
i told you i wanted forever
so now this blood is on your hands

anonymous 18h

it's easy to starve yourself
it's easier to starve when she starved you of love
you count your fuck ups like i count my calories
that feeling in the pit of your stomach
it starts to become addictive
and just like your love
that emptiness swallows me whole
and sometimes i can't tell if it's hunger
or maybe it's the hollow feeling of abandonment
but i just can't seem to tell them apart anymore

Trapped
Here in this small room
With just plushies for company
And a window
I am a child
Scared into submission
Hiding my true self online
I'm almost 16
I have escaped through the window
Meeting my friends in a virtual space
Kids don't just hang out
That's what I'm told
But it's not what I believe
Why can't he understand?
But I know why
He was never like me
He never had to watch the world through a 5 by 3 window

I knew I was playing with fire
so why was I so surprised when
I got burned?
He told me to make sure I don't fall
in love with him.
He told me he wasn't comfortable talking.
He told me he wanted to make me happy.
I had cigarette burns up and down my body
and I should've known it would hurt
because you had ones to match.
There's something about tracing over your own skin after someone's touched you.
Almost as if the traces will never disappear,
like the scars from cigarette burns.

This took me so long to write because I couldn't find the words. I still don't know if I have.

he cried last night.
i told him how she touched me
in inappropriate ways
and he hugged me through his screen
and digitally cried into my hair.
pixelated tears and pixelated emotions,
something still real and plausible,
something i can still feel and work with.
and he can’t believe
that the girl he met five months ago
has been hurt this way;
he rubs my lip with his cursor
and he promises me
that he would never touch me in a way that she did
and it’s love.

i told him about how i’m not loved
by the same woman who begrudgingly
pushed me out with her hips.
he took the chance to say to me
that he’d never hit me the way she did.
he said he couldn’t ever hit the girl
he thought he knew five months ago
who has just told him
that her mother hits her
and doesn’t want her
and sometimes i still wonder
why he stuck around.

Bad birth, Birthed a bastard baby
Born bad, born to be betrayed
Baggage badly backhanded beaten brutally
Born to be bullied, Before breathing beauty
Born to be bashed
A Barrier bouncing barbarian
Black blocks block beautiful behavior
Boiling beauty turns to a brutal beast  
Blocked brain banned from being the best
A bitter beast born bad bonded behind bigotry
Bombarded brain brutally beaten before birth

"Fifty Shades of Grey" has plagued my life
With the expectation
That to be fucked
Is to be loved.

The perfect treachery for a teenage girl

Falling in love with the idea
That pain is pleasure
So the more it hurts
The better the orgasm

The perfect deception for a teenage girl

So now I wait for him to have me
While he leaves fifty shades of purple
Across my face
Although
I still have my virginity…

The perfect teenage girl for a trap.

I wrote this for a friend, not me.

i'd rather have this art on my body
than your hands
for this art only leaves beauty
and your hands leave bruises
this art makes me smile for days
and your hands make me cry for hours
your hands bring me nothing but ache and sorrow
where this art brings me happiness and confidence
so i'd rather have this ink
etched under layers of my skin
for it brings little pain but years of smiles
but your hands
only leave black and blue
and tearful nights

his hand i supported in mine grew a fist to punch at my arm
my skin bruised up to the point of traumatic harm
his hair dye changed the natural brown to red tints, next a blue shade
to mimic the colored sirens leading to a front lawn barricade
i will forget to remember those sweet townhouse balcony times
for they were replaced in moments by outrageous assault crimes

Next page