Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Norman Crane Sep 1
Mud bath
Doc Martens
                        Back of head
Off the beaten path
                        Still beaten
But at least not dead
*******, they said
Don't understand what I did
But was
Drowning in the ground
One day they'll come around
To me

Doc Martens
                        Back of head
Off the beaten path
                        Still,
                        Beate­n
Dead.
Inspired by several news stories about bullying. What struck me was the tragedy of the bullied person coming back, again and again, to the bullies, probably craving attention, perhaps hoping for eventual acceptance, and how that same need (to return, to be accepted) not only intensified the bullying but justified that intensity ("What did he expect? He kept coming back for more!") In the extreme case, the intensification resulted in death. The death itself was seemingly blamed in part on the victim ("Well, he didn't object to us doing X, so naturally we tried X+1. I guess it's sad that X+1 killed him, but all he had to do was [...] and he didn't, so, you know: he didn't save himself.") One of the acts of bullying that struck me was walking on the victim's body, especially across puddles, gravel and mud. I was also surprised by how poorly the bullies were able to explain why they chose their particular victims. Their explanations amounted to: (1) he existed, (2) he existed around us, (3) he kept existing around us despite what we were doing, and (4) he was weird.
Nothing as mind described was sin,
suppressing was actual sin.
It kept coming in,
some days unwilled,
some days willed,
it gone leaving perplexed and guilt.
Flocked and bounced until it got exhaust,
left inside everything holocaust.
Innocent, unaware, bruised himself
in threads of twisted thoughts.
Unshared, whispered in thin air, shredded in half.
Coagulated and stranded thoughts,
bruised and bullied, ravenous remarked, fetched the tears in glass.
Distraught and regret pervaded, filled the state of mind with depressed art.
admonished till blood turned cold, still nothing could abolished the suppressed doubts, it still came out, healthy and curious, to demolish everything owned.  nothing as mind described was sin, suppressing was actual sin.
Written on 20th July 2020
I get asked every day

Like why "I am so crazy?

**** I've been like this since day one

Life feels like an empty High-way

If you got ADHD like I do

You won't feel so lazy

each one of us

has a different story

you wish you can be just you

stay focus while driving your car

don't need to worry about taking the bus

anymore, overthinking again

hoping you wouldn't get bullied

teens like me, are afraid to get a little bit too high

Cause, the drugs will mix with our medication.

Our ADHD got us all Tripping

I pray to god hoping that one day i will stop doubting

All the feeling i hide within my mask

I can't even smile cause all  feeling

has us all overwhelming

we all have the same question we got to ask

no one knows how we are dealing

we just hold it all in and smile

and pretend like we all love our life.

Remember you are perfect just the way you are

Don't let your ADHD stop you from reaching your goals

you can wish upon a shooting star

get back up on your feet, and fill these empty holes.

Remind yourself everyday

you are a gifted child with ADHD

that is one of the many reasons why

you are so unique
Poetic T May 24
Reality was my nightmare,
               dreams were my solace.

I was real within them.
Mama
Hugs me
Whispering soft letters
That sing together
And let off a gentle glow
They warm me up
And heal my scars

She builds me a sailboat
And I float
Float
Float
Up into cotton candy clouds

She is my sail
She makes smiles creep onto my face
Floating along
My world of haziness
My boat dancing
In the soft breeze
Which caresses my skin
Her whispers singing
Against it

Then I hear splashing
The waves are now rolling
Higher then I can handle
Their insults weaving their way
In and out

Pebbles are tossed at me
Until they are boulders
And my sail is sinking
And my boat is sinking
And I too, am sinking
Down
Down
Down

And now
I drown
In my sea of tears
The waves
Still thrashing me around
And I sift about
Like sand
Letting them
Drag me

I go
In and out
Of school and insults
In and out
Of my home, and warmth
Their words go
In and out
As they settle in my skin
And bleed out of my eyes
Leaving marking on my face
Until I hold onto
Every word they say.
Til I too am a wave
Washing my brain
Filling it with pain
Sifting around in the abyss of my head
I've sunk
This poem is about my own experiences with bullying and how you tend to take what bullies say stronger then what your parents say and I thought I would share it
Fizza Khan Apr 21
“Why I Stay Quiet”
A poem by Fizza Khan
4-21-20

All words have ever done are hurt me.

So I stay quiet.

Because if they know nothing about me, they can’t hurt me.
Zan Apr 21
Why did she coose me to be the one?
Why did she choose me to be a target?
Why did she choose me to be weakest?
Why did she choose me to be the worst?
Why did she choose me to be the ugliest?
Why did she choose my to be the dummy?
Why did she choose me to be the fake?
Why did she choose me?
Why me?
Fizza Khan Apr 17
Warrior
A poem by Fizza Khan
Inspired by “Warrior” by Demi Lovato
4-17-20

Her armor lies on the floor, untouched.

Her sword is dull from the battle she fought bravely 7 years ago.

Though her heart has healed, she still remembers the knives that pierced her skin.

The bandages are old but her battle wounds are Beautiful.

Indeed, this girl is a Warrior.

She remembers the words, cruel and lingering.

They told her she was a failure. A disappointment. That she would never get anywhere in life because she was too dumb.

She lay on the battlefield, bleeding out.

But just when she thought she was done for, she heard a voice.

“My dear, your scars are beautiful. You had no one but now you have me.
You are stronger than you think. Know that their words are nothing more than ink.”

She found her strength again, that brave girl. But the voice was gone.

She fought until the words couldn’t hurt her anymore...

Until she found peace.

Who was this Warrior you ask?

Let me start from the beginning:

My armor lies on the floor, untouched.


My sword is dull from the battle I fought bravely 7 years ago.

Though my heart has healed, I still remember the knives that pierced my skin.

I hear a voice behind me. “My dear, your scars are beautiful. You had no one but now you have me.
You are stronger than you think. Know that their words are nothing more than ink.”

It’s her. The only one who was there for me through my battle.

We embrace and I thank her for being there for me. She tells me, “Fizza, YOU were there for YOURSELF. I’m so proud of you.”

And I realize,

The bandages are old but my battle wounds will always be Beautiful.

Indeed, I am a Warrior.
The voice/person in this poem is actually the teacher that was there for me when I was bullied. Putting her in as the voice seemed like a touching tribute. ❤️

We are all #Warriors in our own way. :)
Zack Ripley Apr 2019
Just because it's called makeup
doesn't mean it has to make up who you are.
Just because someone is bullying you
doesn't mean they're not being bullied too.
Just because someone tells you you're stupid or ugly
doesn't mean it's true.
Now, it's true that just because you read something
it doesn't make it true.
But it's important to know that just because you're feeling blue,
it doesn't mean it's the end of happiness for you
Troy Feb 1
You come at me screaming
With rage in your heart
Threatening me with violence
But I stand still

You think you are scary
But you have no idea
What goes on in my head
Everyday of my life

You scream and shout
That no one wants me around
Don’t you think I already know that
That it’s all I ever feel like

I stay to myself
I have little to no friends
I hide in the shadows of my mind
Waiting for deaths embrace

Compared to my head
Your threats are nothing
But a glorious welcome
To deaths open arms

So go ahead
Act on your aggression
Push me and beat me
You are only fulfilling my wish

End my pain
Take away the sorrow
Remove the last breath
And end the suffering

But if you think for one second
I’m just going to run and hide
Think again
Cause I’m not the type to run away from death

I walk towards it willingly
Grasping at the edges
Feeling the soft ends
Of deaths beautiful cloak

So please continue to belittle me
Scream and shout some more
Show the world you are just a child
In an adult body

Push me over the edge
Make me bleed out
Cut me with your fists
Cause your words do nothing

They are void
They have no meaning
You want so hard for me to attack
But that will never happen

Try all you want
My emotions stay the same
For if you’ve forgotten
You can scare someone with a death wish

But sadly death doesn’t want me yet
So you will be wasting your time
I have survived all attempts
My work is not yet finished

My door will not open
Not for you or for me
So go ahead and try it
It will only end up in vain
Next page