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Nao Apr 2020
Women of the word.

You led me to become a strong and independent woman. But you did so suffering. And you shouldn't have to.

Women of the world.
You were destroyed in the past and you still are today. By men who, in need of power and control defined you as a simple hole.

Women of the world,
I wish I could tell you the fight was won but it is not. I wish I could tell you it's over but it is not.

As a kid, my mom said she wanted me to become a perfect woman. An educated and intelligent woman, but one who can manage a household as well and take care of her husband.

I don't blame her. She grew up in a culture that asked too much from women and not enough from men. She grew up in a culture where women would carry all the burdens but men pretended they would. She grew up in a culture that presented husbands as a purpose, not a choice.

But I said
"Mom, I can't. I cannot for I love my flaws too much. I love the flaws you despise, my laziness, my uncombed hair, my unfeminine side of me. I love all of it.
But hear me for they don't make me any less of a woman. I am as worthy of others and you taught me that. For what matters is inside of me. And you told me, I was always loved for my kindness to others."

As a kid, media taught me women were the weaker ***. For they are too sensitive, for they need too much attention, for they want to be loved.

As a woman, education taught me men needed women. For they couldn't last a day without them. But women don't need men, women evolve and thrive with no man. But that was hidden from us for too long.


And I never wanted the two genders to be at war. But they started it.
SoVi Mar 2020
I don't want to die young
Disappear into obscurity.

Stretched thin like nylon
Something that you see as pretty.

Rubbed raw by a cat's claw
Watch me as I keep bleeding.

Feelings like a jigsaw
Don't know if I can keep going.



© Sofia Villagrana 2020
Lexi Dec 2019
I grasp at air fighting my anxiety I pray to myself that "I won't, I won't let this happen!"

all a while the voice in the back of my head is reminding me "That's not your choice, You can't run.... nobody can help you escape."

But I ignored the voice that felt sorry for me and continued to tell myself that YOU wouldn't come back and IF YOU did well... I-i..-I would just run away!

But  of course that didn't happen, bounded by my will to exist and my physical limitations I'm stuck here.

I finally aloud myself to be happy, you couldn't shove dumb **** down my throat, you couldn't slowly **** me day by day with your "I love you's" while you yelled at my tired mother, while you beat my tired mother!

You've driven me insane you've emotionally scared me.... leaving me bleeding for days. I keep clinging to this idea that I have power and can control this life o' mine but I can't I have no power
This isn't really a poem. I'm trying but failing.
Kath Kane Sep 2019
Left on the side of the road,
Nowhere to go,
I COULD HAVE DIED.
I swear you wanted me to.
A blow to the face,
A broken nose,
A black eye,
An apology.
A sign of respect.
That was the day I realized you loved me.
When you could have killed me but stopped.
A sign of respect.

I always remember that day not for you trying to end my life but for you deciding not to.
I thanked you.

Four months later and we are back at it again.
I am driving,
You,
Yelling.
I thank god this time and not you. I thank him that I am the one driving and in control. Not you.  
But even in full power,
You find a way to steal my freedom and obtain total dominance.
You never give up in wanting me to give up,
But you do eventually leave.
Slowly.
First you untack your safety net,
And then you gave in with your want for cold blood ******.
I loved those parts of you.
Signs of respect.

The day you really did leave,
Safety net and all,
I watched you out my window,
Thanking you under my breath.
Your last act of sin still leaves a mark around my neck.
I thank god again. Not you.
I thank him that the seat belt locked in my 1993 Buick.
A sign of respect.
A letter to my first car.
Levi Kips Mar 2019
The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist would be fine
The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

I love hard
I love like a boxing glove loves connecting with a jaw, or my jaw.
Or My love loves connecting with me sometimes that she forgets to wear the gloves,
or get a referee,
or let me know that we are playing this game.
I only know to play along when I hear the bell ring,
or if there's a ringing in my ear from her love taps and she's in that love me stance.
That stance the world ALWAYS misinterprets
The world says that stance means I'm the enemy
But they don't understand our language
In our language that means she's about to give love to my heart
like CPR, so open up and get ready for a pounding.
So open up and take my heart that is yours,
nothing about our love is Taxidermy
it is as true as purple is for royalty
or purple for my skin every time you show your love for me.
This is not abuse, she's not a tornado and i'm not a Kansas home
She's only testing my foundation
Separating the weak parts from the strong
That's normal right?
For the first time i'm doing something normal right?
Thats why we tell our sons to Man up right?! we punch our sons but kiss our daughters.
I'm just doing what i'm told:
Risk it for the biscuit
Do what boxers do, sway with the punches, don't resist
Others say what if this is abuse
I say love is like any drug, and what's a drug without its side effects.
When we lose consciousness together at night, that high is worth all the burning sensation retaliation words I build up in the back of my throat like ****.
When we are alone and I can finally inject her in my system heroine, the track marks she leaves after loving me is the best part cause even when she is gone I can look down at the marks and feel the love all over again.
My love is the only drug I need, it hits hard but....

Thats the way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist, its all fine
The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.
Jade Welch Mar 2019
I once loved something
that was filled with evil.

And that scares me, more than anything.
Jade Welch Mar 2019
And then he asked "but, how do you still find your smile when such dreaded things have happened?"



"Darling, a tear wont change my past, but my smile can mould my future"
Violet Howard Feb 2019
Your fingerprints cover skin
I am a record of all your sin.
I woke up on the floor again
Can’t remember where it began.
Mister sleep eludes me still
I can’t fight to defend my will
My head is void of wondrous dreams
Escape is what sees the sunbeams.
Humility is all I know
And yet you say theres more to show
You say you’ll teach me how to cope
You are what killed my will to hope.
Upon my skin I wear your anger
Upon my head a crown of danger
With the promise of tomorrow
Your forgiveness I seek to borrow.
And still though time has changed me
Your mistakes are all I will ever see
People close and people far
Fear the girl with an invisible scar.
by Violet Howard
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