I watch as you cradle yet another beast
It's tangled fur and muddy face
They would be enough to scare off everyone else
But not you
Oh, not you
You reach out your hand to untangle the strands
To kiss the bared fangs
Because you believe in good
Because it can still be saved
I always wondered how could you be so trusting
To put your palm in the beast's jaw
You'd laugh off my worries
Saying, there's good in every being
You were right
Until you weren't
Oh you sweet fool
All beasts were once pure
But not men
Oh not men
But you didn't know that
Or you did
But you still did what you always have
You still took him in
Offered food, home, love
And that parasite grew
Until even you were not enough to devour
I don't blame you
But you didn't warn anyone
That there's a beast of the worst kind in your house
One that smells like ***** and cheap cigarettes
Oh you didn't
And I've paid for that
That beast tore me apart
When I was only growing
It defiled me
It made me scared
So much we both forgot
One from *****, one from fear
I don't blame you
But you can't save him
Not him
Because you can't save something that doesn't want to be saved
It'll reap your throat out and still ask for more
You can't save a man that ruins you
You can only suffer with him
Until he gets his hands on your niece that's six
Oh how much I wish I didn't stay at your house that night
It was filled with people
But no one noticed
How child's world shatters
And yet
You were never intimidated by any fangs
You always wanted to pet every monster
But you can't save something that kills
What is left pure

i just wanted something normal
something that made life make a little more sense
but since you have no inkling on the meaning
of what peace is
and love seems to be the bane of your existence
insistent on making me suffer you.
my love for you, a redeeming quality
to be a blessing for a curse
each day seems to be worse
with a random sparkling moment
just to hold me hostage longer.
i thought i was stronger
and you seem to brighten when i fail to enlighten;
when i am my vulnerable self.
who hurt you?
because now you are the poster child for why i need to heal.
and theres nothing gracious about breaking:
clawing me down just to prove you're real.

My words dig deep
And do they strike true.

My tongue is a weapon,
I don't always use

It can harm and main
Deeper than any physical wound.

My words can heal, harm...


Or haunt you.

Warning- This poem contains themes of self harm, suicide, ****** abuse, and more. If these topics trigger you I suggest you don't read this poem.

"I think your scars are beautiful." Said no one.
I carry the traumas of my past on my wrists and my thighs.
I feel like a gross monster.
Every day when I look in the mirror, I'm reminded of my pattern of self destruction and self hatred.

But I don't only have scars on the outside.
Open wounds exist inside me from the events of my past.
The memories replay in my mind like a movie theater,
and I watch myself suffer over and over again.
I see myself getting sexually abused, watching my parents drunken accidents.
I see ten year old me getting shoved into a countertop and I can still feel the physical and emotional pain.

Sometimes I want to slit my throat and cut up my wrists so I can be done with the **** this world has to offer,
But I know I can't go out like this, not so young.
I know that I have things to accomplish,
and I have goals to reach,
But it's so hard carrying this weight on my shoulders all the time.
I don't believe I deserve this.

Warning: This poem contains subjects of ****/SA and may be triggering.


I can't believe the irony.
You claim to disagree with **** and ****** harassment,
But you speak no remorse for your actions of abuse against me.
You say what you did wasn't bad, but you weren't the one being ****** over day by day by the girl who was supposed to be my best friend.
You weren't the one being manipulated,
Yet you play the victim and talk about how you were molested later in life
But you never cared to take accountability and apologize to the person you put through the same misery you ended up going through after the fact,
And you never cared to think about what you did to me and what you put me through.

I know and understand that we were young,
But that's not an excuse to say you did nothing wrong.
You didn't just do this when we were little,
This wasn't just a one time thing,
You did it over and over again for four years.
It was a recurring event that happened every time you begged to come over, or begged for my mom to let us sleepover
So you could manipulate me and ***** me over even more, making me more trapped in your web of lies and deception.

I find it stupid that everyone seems to take your side instead of listening to what I have to say about this situation,
When there is proof of you being a narcissistic liar and everyone knows it,
Yet they can't believe a word I say no matter how much I say it.

I don't even mean for this to ruin your life,
even though you ruined mine.
You left me with flashbacks and self destructive patterns I've become used to.
You made my life a living hell.

I've heard that you think my scars are ugly,
But they aren't nearly as ugly as your hideous personality and your manipulative tendencies.
When I see your face or think of you it makes me sick,
Almost as sick as I feel remembering what you put me through,
Like making me touch you, making me make out with you.
I never even wanted to do that in the first place,
I knew we were too young,
I wonder what everyone would think if they knew you were a sexually abusive *****.

He was stone,
hard edges,
and brittle words.

I walked among
the gravel until
I had enough
calluses to leave.

What if I told you I dreamed too high,
But you always wanted me low?

My head clearly belongs in the clouds
While your face is upside down, in the ground.

My feet on the very edge of the chair.
Too busy in my fabricated daydreams, unaware.

Do I miss you? Not really.
Thanks for all the times you treated me painfully.

If only you could see me now,
I could take you to those clouds.

But I know one day you’ll visit me
Bothered by the disgusting feelings.

I loved when your hands were on me,
But now all I feel is the weight of rope tightening.

You need to let go, they said. Letting go will set you free;
you need to forgive.
I have forgiven: it just wont let go of me.

Precisely what makes you think I'm worth this anyway?
this time? these resources? this care?

Do you not smell the putrid rot, see the maggots of my madness?
The glass is half empty of milk -
curdling and spoiling on the mantle.
I have scrubbed well over a decade: it wont wash away.

Each night is a relentless gruelling warped dance of the damaged,
the steps are foreign and ****** the ever encroaching darkness,
I am not mine-

What can I bring you to impart clarity?
I have laid myself bare under both kind and cruel eyes;
let you um and hmmm at my broken heart, my tainted body -
and take a microscrope to the intricate spoils of my mind.
I have endured the indignity of supervised showers,
the callousness of those who have known nothing but love
submitted to regimes of drugs lined up like soldiers on the front line
and down one by one they went

And now beyond broken, I crumble to dust lost in the wreckage of myself
This tsunami of darkness mounts an assault so violent -
its merciless, it violates, I am imprisoned: silent scream.
The growing insanity reclaims me for its own: it gives me over to him.

Instinctively I recoil, squirm, curl up tight - futile foolishness.
It isn’t supposed to really be real. But perhaps I really do belong there.
I let her go. I am ready to let me go
Drained and pained, exhausted and alone.
How my mind betrays me; how my body fails me;
I berate myself for not being better, stronger, more acceptable.
I am a slave to the black dog.
He bites and ravages - savage being
feeding off the fear and hurt of the girl who was impossible to love.

The painful depths are beyond the grasp of language now
and every nerve is burning;
invisible fingers tighten around my throat and I choke on silence.
Hope’s whispers are lost in the roaring barrage of abuse.
I fear I am irretrievable; the ferocious love loaned out
never was returned leaving chunks gouged out of my heart.
I have fought for my life and drenched myself in knowledge.
But the war is savage and my ammo spent.

What is this demented tumultuous madness?
It burns, scorches, consumes with forced acid kisses.
I retreat into myself but find myself locked in a cage -
one to which I no longer have the key.
I fear I will never have my death of this, of him -
I’ve had my fill of being ill - of being owned by a man who came to ****.