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Mary Frances Aug 2018
I know my heart.
It's been bruised and scarred and shattered.
It's already too tired but it never ceased to believe, hope and love.
And that's the pride I can give to myself.
Diane K Pak Jul 2018
When you emptied yourself inside because things outside made you cried.
When your sacred self startled shattered to stutter without flutter.

When no one hear this mumble yet fumble and tumbled to hear me as troubled, but why instead themselves wanting to become more humble.

Who is everyone that added anything and everything to my voice;  screaming stopped, yet heartbeat ignition, and grumbling papers with and without written symbolism.  

I needed you to be here with the gem of treasure and filled with muse of your soothe and yet I waited to hear your amused with joy and listened to this delighted sadness of how really isn’t something to be amused or nor abused.

Wanting to wait for the return of the u-turns, so I became emblems of I said I’m sorry but it was actually an reoccur of it not being the chance to say that was my own turn.

Tears, aches, and screams didn’t swivel, its shriveled.
Yet, the eyes of the stars dreamt of awakening beaming bright, and if so it's beneath dimming the lower lights.
Waffles Jul 2018
you don't quite fit
slightly askew
yet, relatable.

I see You.
A person revealing herself to a soceity of weak wolves
You are curious; a truth-seeker
asking questions that make others squirm
You have a deep desire to connect through expression
a need to be seen
You wish for transparcy paired with acceptance
You want to tear yourself open and scream "Look!"
"This is Me! Please, see Me!"
"In all my beauty and in all my ugliness. This, is, Me. Unfiltered. Naked"
"Please, please accept me."
I know this because it is
Relatable.

Relatable. The only way you would know this
is if I told you.
For I have found a way to blend in with the wolves.
I hide behind a careful wall built of cloth and filth.
You can only see Me when and where I allow it.

My face is usually in plain view, for society has told me this is OK.
(Ironic that is my only bit of skin that can change expression, unwillingly)

My other skin is hidden by clothe that I willingly bear.
A winter coat and gloves for the environment unknown.
(possibly hostile. it's better not to risk exposure)
A T-shirt and jeans for the familar
(stragically covering vunerabilities)
A bathing suite only for the most trusted

And naked? Rarely do I allow this, even around myself.
Because when I am naked all I see is the bruises from past abuses.
When I opened myself up and was rejected
Rejected by society and myself.

All the bruises bring me to bear cloth
But I will sincrely root for those who walk around
Naked.
e Jun 2018
we couldn't have been an illusion
there was so much bruising
all this for nothing, what makes it fair
to seem perfect with no scare
Steve Page Jun 2018
Family is not an F word
however family was for you,
cos when family leave you raw and bruised
friends are family in lieu
Quote from Deadpool 2: "Family is not an F Word".
Nuna Jun 2018
She wears jewelry around her neck
Diamonds
Suffocating her in her sleep
Bracelets of gold leaving her wrists bruised and blue

Sweet little girl was a gift to a stranger thrice her age
She is warned to never disrespect him, to always put his happiness first
Daddy crying out of happiness
Mommy crying, out of happiness

Everyone cheering and dancing as she is forced on a chair bigger than her, in a dress she should have worn for prom first

At the age of 14 told to act like a woman
Carrying a ring on her finger, soon lives of her own

She fears the night now
As they are cheering in daylight,
There will be no one to cheer at night
Besides him
mysa May 2018
get up, kid
wipe the dirt from your pants
wipe the blood from your cheeks

get up, kid
bare your teeth with your chapped lips
bare your fists with your bruised knuckles

get up, kid
scream
scream and let your throat go raw
but don't stop
       don't stop
       don't stop

get up, kid
make me proud
William de klerk May 2018
I am tirelessly tormented by black thoughts that mercilessly mock
shame and scar my broken body.

My worked worn bones bend
as I will my bruised body to rise on shattered limping legs.

I’m forced to lift myself off the cold cruel ground once more.

I climb out the grave that
I
decided to dig.
While a dark hazed figure tries to bury me alive

I see the cold shaking hands of insecurity shrouded in a dark cloak standing by my side

As we look over the pit I escaped.

I intentionally let a sadistic smile slip. Laughing with an unwavering stare.

I grabbed his  old steel shovel
and filled my grave

M.O.I
M May 2018
i am broken and bruised,
there's a scar in my heart
that's really difficult to erase.

i'm longing for a hug,
a warm embrace,
that could comfort me.

and then, i found you,
someone who i can rely on,
you're my shelter from the rain.

i found you,

my home.
Sabila Siddiqui May 2018
Lazy she may seem
But how does she explain she is hurting
She is wounded
Bruised
Energyless to do even the simplest of tasks
For she wants to be alone in her own world,
shut the world out
and write
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