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zdebb 6d
hard scrabble taught
small as the properly poor,
it is a shame how she looked
like a dead moth spread winged,
taped to a piece of wax paper,
taken to school and pinned down.

festered in a blue black
skin, those few visible examples
of the love thrown at her unwashed.
nobody, but nobody would plan
to spill so much in so small a space,
but she did, with a fog in her eye
as she did it, and as hard as i wanted to try,
i couldn’t make eye contact.

what came next was what
she remembered to pack, along with some
missing skin. i wished it were mine.
i’d gladly take it upon me, and she could
be scot free pretending to be
any number of wild things.

but she sat with me,
frozen backward looking,
explaining with awkward words
and punctured theme,
as i wrote fresh notes for god, like clean snow.

nothing prepared me for the sudden absence,
the dead moth freed of the unpinned wax paper.
as i cleaned the spill with long forms and reports
i was grateful i tried to look in her eyes.
tired in the moment to be there still,
one man choosing to pray.
I feel like dying, but I'm trying.
I'm so tired of this anger.
You get mad at me, think I'm lying;
always feel like I'm in danger.
Your inventions of intentions
never matched my thoughts inside.
Did you ever think to mention
when you noticed we had died?
I got these daggers in my back,
but my pride is still intact.
Let's stay together for the kid,
always trying to fix it.
Broken pieces on the floor —
push myself against the door.
Now I'm begging you for more:
forgive, restart it.

I think I'm dying; I'm going crazy.
You think I'm lying — I'm not lazy.
I'm just tired from this fighting.
You're a liar, so stop waiting.
So I'll use my ***** pen
to spill my hurt upon this paper.
The fighting starts again,
so my heart begins to waiver.
I'm on the edge again;
you're not listening.

I feel like falling, but I'm standing.
I'm so tired — my love is gone.
You yelled at me; I'm withering.
I won't miss you; you're not the one.
Your inventions of intentions
never matched my thoughts inside.
Did you ever think to mention
when you noticed we had died?
Doesn't matter if it's verbal;
keep thinking it is all my fault.
We keep fighting in a circle —
locked my heart inside a vault.
Won't you please just hear me out?
Your voice is always full of doubt.
Please don't make me have to shout;
I can't restart this.

I think I'm dying; I'm going crazy.
You think I'm lying — I'm not lazy.
I'm just tired from this fighting.
You're a liar, so stop waiting.
So I'll use my ***** pen
to spill my hurt upon this paper.
The fighting starts again,
so my heart begins to waiver.
I'm on the edge again;
you're not listening.

I will stand up, drink from this cup.
I regret this situation.
You can walk away — don't play cleanup.
Let's get out of this sick rotation.
Your inventions of intentions
never matched my thoughts inside.
Did you ever think to mention
when you noticed we had died?
I got these daggers in my back,
but my pride is still intact.
Can't stay together for the kid;
aren't trying to fix it.
Left the pieces on the floor —
now I'm going out the door.
I'm not begging you for more;
I won't restart it.

I think I'm dying; I'm going crazy.
You think I'm lying — I'm not lazy.
I'm just tired from this fighting.
You're a liar, so stop waiting.
So I'll use my ***** pen
to spill my hurt upon this paper.
The fighting starts again,
so my heart begins to waiver.
I'm on the edge again;
you're not listening.
No...
you're not listening.
No...
you're not listening.
No...
you're not listening.
This is a song I wrote this week in my spare time after reading some entries from an old journal I never fully committed to./. It's close to my raw emotions I felt in the past as and has many passages from my actual journal. I am posting it on this website hoping these emotions resonate and validate others as much as it helped me.
Uzziah Ruffin Sep 23
-Childhood Shadows-

I was small, hiding in plain sight,
my brother’s hands crossing lines I couldn’t name.
Fear lived in my bones,
and silence became my only armor.
Mother caught him, rage flaring,
almost breaking him with her own hands,
yet the years he was gone were only temporary.
When he returned, words of apology softened the air,
but I swallowed every emotion,
locked my voice in a chest of fear,
keeping our fragile family from crumbling.

-Carving Pain into Skin-

Adolescence came like a storm,
self harm tracing rivers of sorrow down my arms.
I thought love could save me
hearts I trusted shattered like glass.
Grandmother passed before I could say goodbye,
leaving grief curling around my chest.
Whispers and lies spread like wildfire,
friends turning their backs at someone else’s bidding.
False hope flickered in the eyes of another,
but the scars of the past clung tight,
teaching me that pain could be both refuge and cage.

-Loss and Panic-

Stepfather gone, a week of silence,
and my brother returned, shadowed and unwelcome.
Panic clawed at my throat,
and hospital walls became a cage for trembling hands.
A note, simple and desperate, asking him to leave me alone,
betrayed when my mother gave it to him.
He packed, left, yet I was forced into a family meeting
his apologies spilled like water,
but I could not forgive.
His absence was still presence,
a day later, a text:
“Because of you, your brother is homeless."
Pain twisted into my skin,
and I carved again to keep the agony inside,
hospital walls embracing me like old friends.

-Broken Doors, Fragile Shelter-

Returning home, he was back,
my door removed, privacy stripped away.
I left, prepared for homelessness,
but ex’s family extended hands,
gave me a place where I could breathe.
Love turned sour in the household I thought safe,
verbal abuse echoing through empty halls.
Cousins I trusted lied, playing games with truth,
and I learned that survival meant cutting ties
even with blood, even with family.
Now I live with a friend,
the air lighter, but still heavy with caution.

-The Present Struggle-

Life steadied, fragile as glass,
until work hours slipped, income waned,
and bills rose like walls I couldn’t climb.
Stress pressed, deadlines whispered threats,
yet I stand, scarred but defiant,
each mark a map of battles survived.
Every heartbeat a declaration:
I endured the worst,
I carried grief too heavy for my age,
I survived betrayal, heartbreak, loss,
and I continue walking forward.

-Endurance and Reflection-

I am the sum of pain and resilience,
a life carved by shadows, yet touched by flickers of light.
Lessons written in scars and empty rooms,
in hospital beds and broken doors.
I have loved, lost, and been broken,
yet here I am, standing.
Every scar a story, every tear a truth,
every breath a reminder...

I am not my trauma,
but I am its survivor.
This is my scars.
Vanessa rue Sep 22
my mom slipper
splintered floor mat

hand rusted, hovering
breaths rake the air

lean, bend, chase
shifted rooms, his question:
“who you think you are”

foot sinks
in lakes of red ashes

fog thickens
ashes remain

pillow strikes
blue soles pressed
decades deep

his shadow clings
a silent fling of ash

time drips
floorboards groan

hands tremble
bodies stagger

ashes whisper
fog swallows
sometimes, people need to understand that not every type of grinding can be justified, some just exists to be. that's it. scares me at night
Do not leave me alone with a pen and a scrap of paper.
For I will bleed.
For my mind will spill through my eyes.
Eyes that have seen more than they should have in fifteen years

Do not leave me in the kitchen.
They say it’s the most romantic room in a house
In a home.
But this is not a home

So here I serve
I serve you dinner
Dinner with a pen and a knife.
'Dinner's on the table with a pen and a knife' - I Can Be Your Mother by Sofia Isella
Jasper Sep 21
My love, -
(You've done everything that you should do
For me. You made me feel loved. Warm.
Held me against the forces of night.
You listened to my heart,
And let that songbird out its cage.
You never hurt me, you never bruised me,
You never cut me, you never made me bleed.
You were always there for me, and you sacrificed yourself
For our love, instead of me. You've done everything for me,
Everything imaginable, because you, you love me.)
                 - my lie.
Tak sepeserpun lirih iba singgah
Apa yang seadanya,

Kabur!
Kata batin
Persimpangan demi persimpangan
Masih kuikatkan

Nyatanya,
Adakah kita bertukar rasa
Atau hanya terperangkap
Biarkan aku menari dengan cahaya

Erang perihmu
Gema tangisamu
Menyulam keraguan
Palsu palsu palsu
Kulihat buram me-muak-kan
210925 | 00:30 am episode yg nggak tau keberapa, menguatkan diri. Melatih otot sabar. Narsistik.
Kai Sep 17
Mystical
Magical
Stub your ankle on pine
Feels like you spiked your spine
Nerves striking your system
Never ever friends with PTSD
Yet brother decides to try to help
Hands latching onto you
It feels familiar
You were on stage
Never public
Had your whole body to sell
Grabbing
Squishing
Hands leeching onto your body
Feeling your privates
You were only nine for God sake!
No matter how many times you kept saying "stop!"
Or "no!"
You felt hands on you
You had no control
Just pure grips
Just pure uncomfortableness
Yet, you'd never think that PTSD would kick in the ***
After four years, did you seriously think you'd not have PTSD?
Loud sounds trigger
Hands linger

All you can feel is you sinking
Heaving breathing
Panicked
You can't breathe
You feel like exploding
You can't breathe
You can't breathe
You're crying like hell

.
.
.
You can't breathe?
Don't you remember
How your family member
Would choke you, nearly making you pass out?
Can't you feel their hands?
How their thumbs limited your airway
How their thumbs made your throat's airway smaller!

Look at you!
You seem so distressed!
I'm not going to be here to listen to you!
No one is!
You're all alone on this problem!
No one would care anyways
Cheyenne Sep 18
It was so dark,
like a black hole I couldn’t escape from.
. . .
It was cramped enough that no more than two people could fit standing,
and it was full of dust.
The shelves were taken out of it months before,
because we were moving soon.
It always smelled damp, like mold,
but I never found any.

He yanked me in,
my arm sore from how tight he gripped it.
I bit my lip to keep from crying out,
when he threw me to the hardwood floor.
It was so cold against my bare legs below my nightgown
that I practically shivered.

He towered over me,
and I choked.
Suffocated by the smell of cigarette smoke,
radiating off of him.

He always smelled like that,
and so did most of my clothes.
Even our furniture,
because he liked to smoke in the house.

His hands were always covered in a layer of grime,
and he left a brown ring on my arm where he grabbed me.
I shrank back against the wall, knees against my chest, as he stared me down, with his ice-colored eyes.

- “Maybe this way you’ll learn to listen,” -
His frigid tone was infinitely worse
than any scream or swear that he could ever throw at me.

- “I didn’t mean to, I'm sorr-” -
I was cut short when he stepped closer,
and I knew to shut up before I made it worse.

- “Don’t make me take this belt off.” -
. . .
THE BELT.
It was made of dark leather and covered in thick jewels,
most of them shaped like crosses.
The end of it was plated with polished silver-colored metal,
and flat on both sides.
The BELT.
That was the threat he always used,
because he knew how much I hated it.
. . .
I lowered my head and stayed silent,
biting the inside of my cheek so hard that I tasted blood.
He turned to leave,
his heavy work boots leaving muddy footprints behind him.
He slammed the door and ---
'''CLICK'''
. . .
I scrambled to the door desperately trying to open it,
but it was too late.
I cried out, a strangled noise,
as I desperately choked for air.

- “Please let me out! I’ll do anything, I’ll even scrub the floor with my toothbrush!” I sobbed. “Please!” -

“QUIT YOUR CRYING BEFORE I GIVE YOU A REAL REASON TO!”
. . .
I shut my mouth.
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
I tucked myself back into the corner and silently cried.
I sat like that the whole day,
and all of the night.
. . .
No   f  o  o  d.
No   w  a  t  e  r.
No   b  a  t  h  r  o  o  m.
. . .
I sat there in silence,
while he yelled at the tv like a lunatic.
Hours crawled by,
while I rotted there in my own filth.

The next morning he opened the door and apologized,
claiming he was tired and had a lapse in judgement.

I knew he didn’t really mean it,
his  "a p o l o g y,"
because he would’ve done it again in a heartbeat.

He tried to hug me,
but I pushed him away.
He opened his mouth to shriek.
but I beat him to it.

I let out my:
ANGER
s a d n e s s
F R U S T R A T I O N
. . .
I sobbed and squealed,
until my eyes burned,
and my throat was raw.
. . .
Then I turned and walked away.
Into my room.
Door locked.
Lights on.

That was the very day,
that I decided I wasn’t going to stay quiet.
That I wouldn't let anyone hurt me,
without a consequence.

He pretends it didn’t happen,
like everyone else.
But... I don’t care either.
He will never hurt me again,
because I won’t let him.

I am in control.
I am forged from a fire,
lit from anguish and hatred.
You stoke the flame,
and you get burned.

I learned this lesson when I was just seven years old.
All because I accidentally broke a
s t u p i d
u g l y
v a s e
. . .
It was red.
Sorry I didn't take the time,
to make it rhyme.
Reece Sep 18
Few dared to date Medusa,
For they feared being covered with contusions.
Those who did wore a blindfold to hide their eyes,
A blind date with fate and a disguise.

One of the braver men,
Who thought he could apprehend,
Medusa, his name was Trent.
He didn’t last long,
He took his blindfold off,
And like many before him,
He turned to stone and wasn’t heard from again.
Another challenger’s name was Wren,
Like the bird,
Medusa thought that was the strangest name she’d heard.
So, out of spite,
She reached across the table and exposed Wren’s eyes.
He gasped as his skin turned coarse,
Mouth open wider than a horse.
Medusa pushed him over,
Watched as he shattered,
And smiled to herself,
Even though she was lonelier than anyone else.

Medusa didn’t mean to be so cruel,
It was the consequences of her being used.
By a man to do things she didn’t want to do,
Unspeakable and terrible abuse,
She was the only one to lose.
So, she became a viper,
Her gaze became a noose.
Asphyxiation,
Righteous indignation.
She wouldn’t let herself be used again.

Finally, a man named Hunter arrived,
He tightened the blindfold around his eyes.
He sat across from Medusa, the table lit by candlelight,
She blushed, for he was quite a sight.
He reached across the table and shook her hand,
And he asked her if she had any plans.
She was taken aback, her mind rolling off the tracks,
Lost in a flashback, she babbled about tasks she had to do,
None of which was true.

Hunter laughed, a sound so sweet,
It made Medusa nearly fall out of her seat.
Was this the one she had been searching for?
Or was he just another liar?
Authenticity tends to hide,
Just like the scars Medusa had on her thighs.
One of her snakes whispered in her ear,
Advising her to ignore what she wanted to hear.
The snakes only wanted what was best,
But for whom? What was the purpose of their quest?

Hours passed by like comets,
First date turned into many happy moments.
Before Medusa could catch her breath,
Half a year had passed,
And Hunter had asked,
To see Medusa’s face.
She insisted that he didn’t,
But she knew he wouldn’t listen.
He lowered the blindfold,
As teardrops glistened,
Medusa thought she had just lost,
Her heart…

Hunter had heterochromia,
Left eye green, right eye a shimmering blue.
Medusa’s eyes were both red,
That pulsated in blossoming hues.
To both of their surprise,
Hunter didn’t turn to stone.
He captured her lips in a kiss,
Both of them were alone.
Medusa found the one who could see her,
She no longer had to hide.
Hunter loved Medusa,
It made her cry.

The world is filled with hurt people, like Medusa,
Who may push you away and leave you in contusions.
But underneath that deadly gaze,
Is a mountain of pain…
It's easy to judge others even though we don't know their reasoning.
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