BW 6d
Don't you dare
manipulate me
or I swear I will fuck you up so much
You will end up killing yourself

Would you want to see me, wrist slit in a tub?

I would not, but I would be indifferent.
How is it my fault? It only shows you
value death more than life.
Come on pick up the phone.
Stop being silly ok, I didn't want you to actually do that.
Look, stop being stupid, it's nothing.
Pick up. B?
Are you ok? I am sorry, I didn't actually mean it like that.
B? Come on, stop being a silly kitten.I love you.
Pick up the phone, please!!
B are you alright? Do you want me to come down? Please, talk.

They found her, they told me. Wrist slit in a tub.
Her lips were crimson, her hair like a black dahlia.
Her body bathing in blood,
Bright red as the girl I first met, who fell in love,
the same girl I pushed down
the cliff of death never to come back.
M Feb 5
Ruining her was a part of the plan.
It was a part of his prose that he
so deliberately write down.

   Ruining her was merely a
  fraction of his deepened
attraction and rooted nature
that was of his own being.

One look, one simple taste
was enough for him to determine
his destructive path.

  She had no say in such a plan,
for she wasn't aware of such intentions
that would soon ruin her,
everything she stood for,
and the innocence and
compassion that
she prided herself in.

That vanity and that admiration
for her compassionate
conceit is what
drew him to her.  

  That's what he wanted.
A passionate conceit because
he so coldly lacked one.
He desired to have it, to
possess what was hers.

He wrapped his digits
around the
width of such vanity,
stroking it with
brutal gentleness,
and then
he ripped it apart,
tainting and corrupting it
until that very conceit
was tarnished.

   Ruined and stained,
  that's what she was.

That's what he wanted.
He could taste it on his tongue,
lapping up at the censure
flavor of power.

It was bitter and prudent,
and he expected nothing

That varnished and
sour taste was merely a
reminder of what he had done,
of what he was relishing in.

  He was cunningly honest.
  He was vehemently kind.
  He was brutally gentle.
Where is my crutch
Simplistic comfort?

I'm drunk
And in need
Of sleep

And broken

I have stolen
Not shaved
Embraced my domain

For I am sane
In control
And lucid

Where the rats hide
I will find
And purify

They are weak
I am strong
Becoming brutal in remembrance

Though to some
I'm a tool
And they are right
There is no point to this anger
Other than that without it
I would feel nothing

I’m sick of this absence
The way it hums in my thoughts
The same way silence buzzes in my ears
Nothing is never truly quiet
The softness is a ruse

But anger is brutal and honest about it
It breaks through the nothingness
Screams over the humming
Drowns everything out
It is all-consuming

And what I feel
Will finally be
the concept is that people can send me three words and I try to write a poem with them
The heart remembers

It knows the pain
It remembers
It does not forgive
The heart is brutal like that
It can hold you by a string
Yet the love has a toll
A dent
One that can't be repaired
Mohamed Nasir Jan 14
While they were gone
she was raped
he or they left her dead
her young life was torn
her small body was ruined
her flimsy body was shamed
her new life was shredded
her tiny body was stained
her puny body was ravaged
her life was gone
from them forever
while the were gone
while ask God Almighty
for strength in their faith
resolved and steadfastness
in the face of adversity
is this their answer
or is this the test
they've to suffer.
My heart goes to little Zainab. She was a 10 year old girl who was raped and killed while her parents went for pilgrimage to Mecca.
Nakia Oct 2017
You are brutal
Intoxicatingly beautiful
Filling each part of me like i'm some kind of void
We come together
An explosion of hate and toxicity
I hate how perfect you are
I hate how much you make me love you
We fight like cats and dogs
and then
We love one another so much
We squeeze every ounce of pain away in our embrace
But you are brutal
Words so hurtful and vile don't feel like kisses
Thoughts so black and twisted don't allow things to grow
We are living proof
When a volcano meets a tornado
I would end it all and leave
I would tell you about yourself
I would hate you
I would let you see how much you've hurt me
How much you captivate me
If you weren't so brutal
If you weren't so beautifully hurtful
I love you
This isn't about me, I just wrote it.
Kristhie Oct 2017
I drink my own misery
Trying to drain out the pain
I drink my own tears
Trying not to water tissues
I drink my own self
Trying to be absolute
I drink my own soul
Trying to escape reality
I drink my own dreams
Trying to make the road easier
I drink my own friends
Trying to make them real
I drink my own thoughts
Trying to make them dissapear
I drink my own venom
Trying to die in peace
I drink my own reflection
Trying to be invisible
I do all these things
Yet I'm still visible~K.O.
Brokewench Oct 2017
That phrase "I can't even"
It's overplayed like your favorite song blaring thru the speakers
It's unfit to describe how your feeling
But at this moment, the days that turned into weeks that turned into months, I can't even right now.
I can't even begin to explain the weight i am burdened with.
I carry it around like a wet blanket
Dampening everything it touches, leaving everything soaked in my anxiety.
I can't even describe how it feel like I have an entire universe sitting on my chest.
As tho my breaths are cut short becuase the tightness only loosened up so much
I can only breathe so deeply before I'm grasped around the throat by anxiety being told to quiet down
What does a deep breath feel like?
I am a whisper away from crumbling
And I think, maybe I can find refuge in the dust left behind by my emotional ruin
Use it as a stepping stone to rebuilding myself just a little stronger, more dependable, less likely to crack under pressure , more secure in the foundation of who I am as a person
Less of who I am now and more of what I want to be.
G Rog Rogers Oct 2017
Waking up hostile
keeps my mind
reasonable clear
A reason for existence
When there is nothing left
of all that I once held dear

Righteous indignation
constant as a plague
Brutal vicious sense
of vengeance that
is overwhelming
over me

Arising to do battle
Awakening in force
Confronting all that tells me
to forget it and just go on

I do walk on
Mile after mile
Listening to the thoughts
coursing through my mind

Surely I know
I am then
tasked and able
to recover what
then was mine
And once again
will be my own

Surely I walk on.


Next page