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Jen Jan 2020
who were you before your brother broke your heart for the first time when you were nine years old?
how much hope shone through your bright brown eyes before you realized your mom was human too?
and she could lie,
and she could break your heart,
and she could show you for the first time in your life why trusting someone is so terrifying.

who were you before?
before your father could barely look you in the eyes
because he didn't care to understand the pain you tried so hard to keep inside.
it destroyed you,
but you destroyed him.

the ones who say love isn't real.
i don't think they've ever been talking about a silly boy or girl.
i don't think a relationship has ever crossed their mind when their chest strains to beat through the tears.
i don't think they ever got the chance to form that bond,
just to feel it break.

i think they were too busy picking up the pieces,
broken on the floor of the house they were raised in all those years,
with the people who were supposed to show them what love is.

i think they know what it isn't.
Abby Aug 2019
How can i forget
When i never even got to choose to forgive you for myself
I never had the chance to comprehend
Cuz you shoved your apologies down my throat
Everything I've ever forgiven you for was to save you,
It was not for myself
Well, I wont forgive you for that
It's not how forgivness works
Amba Jul 2019
Hi Jess nice to meet you or wait i have not no suprise there your just marks work friend i have never met thats braking up my family so i really hope your needs are met by my partner because clearly your husband isnt meeting your needs for you even though my daughter looses her dad maybe your husband can be her dad and i can go to the snow with him
fm Jun 2019
what was it like when you left me behind?
with a bottle of jack clasped in your greedy palm,
did you ever look over your shoulder?
did you ever turn back?

independency never looked more like a cage
when you realize it came with
losing a childhood to a parent
dependent on *****
and lost in her liquor.

maturity is a sculpture that people
chip and mold to fit their own reality
when they forget that the
broken pieces surrounding the perfect sculpture
are really what maturity is made of.

when you left me behind
i reveled in my independency
and clutched my broken pieces in my hands,
glued them back together
and called it armor.

but i still wonder from time to time,
if you ever looked down to see your own
broken jack bottle
glass pieces by your feet,
because you finally remembered

that you left your daughter behind.
Abbyss Apr 2019
When did we lose our happiness?
Where did we all just drift apart?
How did our family turn to nothingness?
We used to play and laugh and dance
But now those times have turned to ash
And ash has turned to tears and fights
In this vortex it's only black
I can no longer see a light
I can no longer sleep at night
sayali Dec 2018
My father's name means
'one who doesn't mourn'.

But  I  have seen him
Grieving for  his
Grim childhood, broken
Home, fading away of
His own father after
Prolonged sickness, his
widowed mother of
Twenty years and his
Four year old self.

Maybe sometimes your
Name isn't something
You are, but something
You should be.

-Sayali Parkar
Vania Irene Nov 2018
i was born and raised
in a home of apocalypse.
all those
never-ending conflicts,
and endless wars
have wounded me deeply.
abandoned, and ignored
by people who should have taught me
about the definition of love.
but instead,
their actions shaped me into a person
who is so good at pretending,
for all to see that i grew up in
the name of love and affections,
when all i have ever witnessed
was hate and abomination.
eva-mae coffey Jul 2018
why do you yell?
why do you say these horrible things
because you love me?
because i could never get anyone else to love me.
and i storm down the stairs and
crawl into my bed
covering my head
and i cry.
i cry waterfalls into rivers into lakes
while my mother strokes my hair
and i love her but i need her to leave
but i am scared of what will happen
if i am alone.
so i try to sleep, but i choke
everytime i lay down and each
morning i wake up with marks on my
cheeks.
breathing quickens as i remember
what happened the night before
and how i am too afraid to open my
bedroom door.
i consider the window.
consider the faulty lock.
consider walking to His house at 2am.
he is the only one i can count on.
but i cannot worry my brother like that
and my mother would be distraught
i want fresh air
and water
but i do not ever want to eat again.
the sight makes me sick.
I want to wander away from this forsaken house
to somewhere better.
but is the grass ever greener?
because at this moment it feels like every blade is
dried and dying.
feels like thunderstorms and rain clouds but not
the exciting kind.
the terrible,
melancholic,
cursed kind.
the compressing kind
the depressing kind.
the kind that makes you want to jump off a ******* bridge
but the water's freezing.
the kind that provokes earthquakes.
i don't even know what kind means anymore because
the only one who shows me
i have not seen since april.
think of how lucky you are,
warm house, family, friends,
but they wouldn't feel ******* lucky if they stepped inside my head.
if they knew how many flowers crumbled up and turned to dust
at my touch or if they knew what it was like to have
no clue who you are.

i can't even ******* breathe anymore.
Timur Shamatov Jul 2018
Isn’t it lovely
Pieces of my shattered heart
Like petals of a rose
Spread
Across our bedroom floor
Oh
     Hello
You’re never coming home
I guess I could have name the poem War Bride.
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