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Erian Sep 18
I have written these poems for so long
but now they just feel
forced
Nova Jun 30
Was there ever a story
As sad or unjust
As that of the Lady Jane Grey?

Abused by her mother
And forced to wed
At 16 already literally
Lost her head.
blackbiird Jun 4

We’ve built the wall surrounding our castle—
Slowly becoming each other’s demise.
Sounds of slamming doors and shattering glass pierces the silence.
What an inconvenience this life has become.

The pendulum that once swung has taken its final swing.
Envious cries cutting through infinite silence.
Visons of thieving wolves that capture our castle—
Removing delicate, intricately sewn lies
What an inconvenience this life has become.

I am the girl who brings the rain
I am the girl of many floods
so be wary
for
I don a cloak of thistles
and thorns when
provoked.

-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-
Mihle Mdashe Mar 5
We have skin as muddy as waters. Vaginas smelling of blood, unwanted babies and 400 years of forced entries. That's all we have in common. What I have is sickness in the mind. Many people say depression is the emperor of many mentalities; some say it turns your mind into this forbidden city, giving you 8000 sorts of depressing feelings like no will ever love you, just go they won’t even notice you’re gone. They call it depression dynasty. They give depression so much prestige and many of them romantizes depression. But do they really know what it is? It's all watered down into something antidepressant can tone down but pills can't help all the attacks that come from different angles. Laughter turns into tears cause you can't help but hear that little voice "You're not happy", so I'd rather sit in my bedroom and write. Oh wait I've lost that skill now, thanks to my anxiety that is. That's depressions' cousin, depression felt the need to invite him over. Funny how life goes. I thought I'd abort this poetry thing,when all the pain tones down creativity seems to find a new abode. Failed poet I call myself, I can't use high metaphors, fail to express all these emotions so what's the use. I seem to fail at everything I do. I'm trying not to waste my time, but this is what I want to do. The demons come as a sequence of powerful leaders and I just can't sit here and let them dictate to me.
A poem of what it's been like having to live with depression.
Jeannery Feb 10
It's good reminiscing every night
Remember the good times we had
It became my habit, looking back to our yesterday
It's just a happy memory

I feel the other way tonight
I realized something
Asked myself
"What if you're just being forced by the idea of my love?"

Maybe our ideas of love won't just click
If we still continue this, we'll be sick
I love you, I want reasons to stay
I hope you still feel the same way.




--jeannery a.




What if you're just being forced by the idea of my love? What if I'm just forcing you to love me more when you can't? Honey, help me. Those what if's are slowly killing.
Anonymous Jan 31
Your eyes are vacant, not full of love like they used to be.
I gently brush your cheek but you don’t see me,
Not like you used to.
You reach over my shoulder, wrap your arms around me and say “I love you.”
I smile and hesitate before speaking,
Wondering if I should just say it back; I do.
Your freckles are embedded in your skin,
Like the way your thoughts become embedded in everything you do.
You soak up everything around you like the way a sponge gorges itself on water.
You watch people like the way you read books, quietly and unnoticed.
You hide yourself behind your stories and worlds,
Watching your characters take form and shape in front of you.
I can see it in your eyes,
The way they entice you and leap from your books.
I watch as the anchor is cast, and its claws sink further into you
Grabbing your attention in a way I never could.
I’m a writer after all, I should love this about you.
Don't get me wrong, I do
But I wish you'd pick your head up and look at me with those eyes-
The ones that wrap around me and comfort me,
The ones that see me naked and vulnerable, my truest self.
But I know if I can ask that of you,
Not anymore, because you just don't see me like you used to.
I remember the days when I'd catch you sneaking glimpses of me, But now our car rides are spent in silence,
Your eyes always averted outside and away from me.
I don't know when the ocean settled between us,
Or when words became so hard.
I don't know when the silences between us became worrisome rather than comforting and warm.
I don't know exactly when it started to feel this way,
When the 'us' separated into a 'you' and 'I',
But it wasn't always like this.
You used to dive into my soul head first,
Breathing me in like I was the only water that could quench your thirst.
There was a time when you used to exist in these places with me, not just beside me.
When you're next to me I can feel the way your breath shifts in the air,
The way you hesitate to let me in
And the way you don't dare step foot in the somber house that holds my mind.
Maybe I've let you see too much,
Maybe I shouldn't have invited you down the decaying steps of my spine and into my soul.
Maybe I regret it.
Letting you see this part of me.
Maybe I regret letting you make your home inside of the deepest parts of me,
Because now that you've decided to take up residency elsewhere,
I've never felt so alone.
Before we drift into darkness you pull me in every night
And give me one tight squeeze,
It's always just enough to let me know you’re still there,
Even if just by one single fiber.
Your body shuffles against the covers,
I don't need to look your way to know that you're already gone,
Back in your own space and away from mine.
I reach over and touch you
But to me you’re not there,
Present you may be, but no longer are you with me.
muna Jan 20
i'm sorry i don't see the humour in life
sorry can't laugh stupidly about everything
with you
all you'll get from me is synthetic smiles
all you'll get from me is forced chuckles
and condescending nods
because really.......
i never get the joke
cher Dec 2018
day through night, i face the same fate
my flesh inches closer to its expiry date.

a hell:
my mind is at its limit,
and my body; no longer mine.

each minute goes by, i pray to gods,
every holy name, those i've never heard of,
pray, pray with all my might -
choose a different girl to feast on tonight.

my face was stolen from a world of debris
to support a family i'll never again see
i sold myself, let me be bought,
for just two coins, a price of naught.

a customer.
i tell myself,
don't open your eyes,
don't move a muscle.

hands on my thighs - deja vu
my body to her is just revenue.

memories of every night still live within my body - a bookmark telling me i'll never be my own. a constant image of flesh flickers behind my eyelids every time i close my eyes.

give me my body back.
i'm working on my gcse drama devised piece and it's being recorded in two days - ours is on slavery and i got the *** trade as my scene. we gotta write monologues, so i decided to write mine as a poem because of course i did.
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