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MELuhNEE Dec 2020
Some people call it eating weather—
the way you swallow what you know.
A childhood without memories.
Happiness that never glowed.

What it meant to not know the world enough.
How one could endure so much verbal pain
so the trauma lies in vain?
A childhood without memories.

Only sharp fragments of words that sliced the soul.

And how excruciating the agony was to be
punched to the ground—to the unknown.
To shatter, crying every night.
Pretending to be happy.

Some people call it eating weather—
I call it wearing worn out leather.
A childhood without memories.

I’m glad that I’ll never get it back.


M. 12/12/20
I had a painful childhood and my adulthood is not any better.
T Apr 23
Words,
They could never hurt,
They could never cut,
They could never make you bleed,
Physically.

Words,
A manifestation of self-hate,
Written in bold,
Anorexia, Bulimia, Depression,
I was sold.

Words,
The last,
Written on a bloodstained note,
"I can't stay afloat"
In the midst of the rise of Asian bullying during the COVID 19 pandemic,
Let us show them our sympathy.
Advocate against Asian hate.
Stand with their cause.
Give them warm greetings.
Treat them with more kindness and humanity.

Hussein Dekmak
Edited
Ahmad Attr Apr 7
Your hands were cold when I held them
In corner of the class, you were crying
A kind boy like me, lunch to the beasts
Trembling hands in my hands
I clenched to give you calm
Little did I know, it was the heart of a ticking bomb

Your hands were hot when you mangled mine
In front of everyone, you were enjoying
A kind boy like me, lunch to a beast
Trembling hands in your hands
You broke to give me harm
Why do the wronged end up doing the wrong?
Mr E Writer Apr 1
April fools no laughs
what prank shall we play this year
another child hurt
Too many people doesn't always mean a better outcome, it often means too many people clambering around making fools of each other and creates easily avoided confusion and dysfunction. Keeping things simple means keeping it real.
Arya Night Mar 31
The school building hates me.
It hisses every time my body
Slams into its lockers,
It forces me to pop the dints out

It complains every time my blood
stains it’s pristine halls.
It forces to catch blood before it leaks out.

It growls every time my tears
Burn it’s skin in the bathrooms
It forces me to stop before crying out.

I hate the school building.
Each day on its steps, I worship its doors.
Each day we promise a treaty.
Each day it promises to let me live
If I promise to get out as soon as I can.

The school building and I hate each other.
Raven Smith Mar 28
The names they have called me echo around in my head,
reminding me of who people think I am.
But it's not like I got to choose that anyways.
My words can't affect their view of me,
but their words can affect the way I view myself.

Weird.
You said you were just joking.
That didn't make it hurt any less,
even though I claimed it did.
Then you moved on to calling me "limited edition"
because you thought weird was too hurtful.
It still hurts because you meant weird every single time you called me limited edition.
You moved back to weird eventually,
I think.
The names continued,
progressively getting worse and worse until you started calling me things I dare not repeat!
Oh, but I was laughing?
It was to keep the tears from falling because God knows that makes me a crybaby.
I thought we were best friends, and I was obviously wrong.
The only reason I stuck around you was because I had no one else.
You called me gay for hugging someone I thought was a friend at her birthday party.

Sweet little unforgettable thing.
You thought you could slide that one past me,
but I put the first letters together;
I know what you meant,
even though I have no idea why you'd call me that.
I've never had a boyfriend,
much less a first kiss.
Dumb.
I never really understood this one;
I'm top in my class.
That didn't mean the names didn't hurt,
because they did.
I just didn't understand.

This next one wasn't exactly said with words,
but I got the jist when you wouldn't let me hang out with you and your friends.
I wasn't cool enough.
I.
Wasn't.
Cool enough.
Little did you know
that your words continued
to plunge themselves like knives
into my vulnerable spinning wheel
of a heart
until you hit the bullseye
and it exploded into a million tiny shards
that I can't even begin to pick up.
Candy wrappers,
Dripping red.
Gum drop purple knees.
Salty.
I was Harriet the Spy
to cope with your cruelty
thank god for that movie

Memories gaslight me anyway
whispering that I was wrong
and not good enough
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