It's not your fault if he doesn't say hi as you walk by. It's not your fault if she doesn't seem to know you exist. But it's not their fault either. It's not your fault if you feel too much or nothing at all. And if it gets bad, there's nothing wrong with curling up in a ball. We all need an escape. This is an important one. It is NOT your fault if you get addicted to the drugs or the drink. It's not your fault if you get so stressed, you can't eat, sleep, or think. It's not your fault Because bad things, confusion, sadness, stress, loss, anger...it happens to everyone. It's not a choice.
My eyes are closed My snores take up the air Your hand slides up my Thigh and your fingers Run through my hair My eyes stay shut And your hands roam My cries stay silent As you are in my room Your hands venture deeper Than any had gone My eyes watered and I tried to yawn My cry turned to a sob As I realized I could not Tell my mom As I looked in the mirror That next day I realized bad things Seemed to always come my way My eyes welled with tears And I pulled out my hair Screaming but still Knowing no one Really cared.
Very personal poem. Unfortunately ****** abuse happens to a lot of people. Remember to stay strong.
My knees, ankles bruised By the stones they threw Running for a better world Can't even see a thing clearly Coz my head is spinning Fainted by the words they used My eyes are bleeding with tears This road would never end My life would melt like ice On a sunny day, half naked
You'll never find good things happening in your life except when you have people who care about you. So, better be strong or run for a change....
I'm too small As small as a dot on the crumpled paper I'm just one of thousands Even invisible in this cruel world Sheltered in a narrow and thin shells Hiding behind the leaves which begin to change color My first house finally I was born as something strange I'm the ugly My body covered with bristle Feebly crawling along a twig Gnaw the leaves around and make holes Run away from the birds Grappling with weaver ants Makes me fell to the ground Until my bristle loss and scattered Only a worm greets They hate me so I could get killed, not all of them accept until I'm stuck in another dimension I'm the lonely hiding caterpillars Imprisoned inside a small obsolete pouch Trying to **** time Struggling in the darkness to reach beauty That's enough of this stopover wade through the rigors of the long wait that handcuff I was reborn being different and they like me Abundant happiness arrives fly indefinitely with both my beautiful wings penetrate malignancy to explore the horizon
I hate my body. Okay, I said it. I look in my mirror and think how did this happen and why. I contemplate bad things. I do the bad things. The bad things don't work like I wanted them to. My body is still a bad thing. I am so ashamed. I can't even let my love look at me. I hate my body and what it has become. Now I try to do good things. If good things don't work, I do bad things to make the good things work now. Will my body ever be a good thing? I think walking in the door and staring at your reflection and breaking out in tears when you realize how you looked the whole day is enough to make one want to rid these bad things. But isn't the irony so that to rid the bad things one must do more? Bang. Slash. Swallow. Beep. This is me leaving. This is me leaving my hated body behind. This is me doing bad things to my bad body.