One more hit is all I need
Then I promise I am done.
For without it reality
Really does weighs a tonne.
Crushing my ribcage
Which used to home roses
But now is bruised
From fists, He stands amused
As he puts his
Hands back around my neck
Without even looking to check
If marks are visible this time.
He is long past caring
My body no longer unsparing
For he has destroyed each part
Making me look like a childs colour chart.
Maybe I am to blame
For why he torments my fragile frame.
One more hit to numb my pain
Though these thoughts I can never tame
In my new found biological remedy
As I blackout I find my serenity
Longing for a new identity
For my body is an empty shell
Storing secrets I will never tell
For fears the words will only spill out.
So I sew my lips together
As my skin looks like worn leather.
When I finally come back through
My body is an array of black, purple and blue.
I take my final hit
Hoping finally this might be it
As the world before me turns to grey.
For now is my time
As I leave the wind chimes
Bringing me into a brand new day.

Roses are red
As red as the open wound that bleeds
Violets are blue
As blue as the bruises on my beaten heart
Sugar is sweet
As sweet as your smile turned bitter after goodbyes
And so are you
Full of sugary sweetness, rotten teeth, and stomach aches.

Walking through the silence
I see her weary face.
She gives me a smile with no happiness,
And walks with miserable grace.

Flowers of force bloom on her face,
Etchings of pain and tears.
And yet she speaks not of it,
She bows her head in fear.

She relaxes when in company
And drinks her whiskey neat.
But when the people leave her,
She crumples at his feet.

‪her skin is caressed ‬
‪ever so gently,‬
‪but she whimpers ‬
‪through her smiles, ‬
‪cause no one knew, ‬
‪ever since the start‬
‪she’s full of them...‬
‪these ****** bruises and scars.

Why I only wear Shiny shoes?

Every morning,
I would wear my shiny shoes
and run off to the field
for a game of football
and come back bruised and scarred
bleeding out of my mouth
but I was smiling.
You see, my shoes were still shiny.
Every morning,
I would go to school
bragging about my shiny shoes
and come back
with dried tears
and red hands as if
someone hit them really hard
but I was smiling.
You see, my shoes were still shiny.
Every morning,
I would see my friend
waving at me from a distance.
We were our only friends.
I was his SpongeBob, he was my Patrick.
One day, Patrick left.
But I was smiling,
You see, my shoes were still shiny.
All this while,
Nobody cared that the
insides of my shoes were
being torn apart
because my shoes were still shiny,
because I was still smiling.

"She was an
unusual dresser.
Every night,
she wore bruises
on her heart,
love on her lips,
pain in her eyes,
and ink on her fingers.
They called her poetry."