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Kacie 2d
Im a barbie girl, in this barbie world
It's fantastic, everyone's plastic
You cannot feel me their
Why do you think you can stop and stare
******* me with that, imagination.

I post daily, fooling everybody
That I am perfect.
It's horrific.
Convorting myself into this typical dumb blond chartor.

Glaze upon my skin as it is flawless
Little do they know it's stage makeup and filters
I have many scars on the inside.
I am starving, but cannot dream to take a bite
Got to pretend that my body is perfect.

Im a barbie girl, in this toxice world
I am drowning, but the waters plastic
You cannot feel me their
But you could not care
******* me quickly, it's fantastic.

Telling all the little girls thats i'm so happy
And this is their dream life
While hiding in the corner hating every part of myself.
Somebody save me from this glitter nightmare.

I'm stuck inside this dollhouse
The walls won't break
They just dress me up, because my lifes a game
But jokes on them, my blond is fake.
I hate my pretty pink prison.

Im a barbie girl living in a hell world,
It is honestly fantastic, no my heart is plastic
You maze well touch me their and undress me anywhere
Now I have realized no one really cares.
  
Yes im a barbie girl, living in a barbie world
I am now an addict , it's fantastic
No one want to stop and stare
No one wants to feel me there
When I'm washing down the pain with pills and drinks.
Kacie May 5
Even in lock down
I see young girls as  pray
Through the eyes of social media
Are you to blame?
Sexilising my body
Until I am an nothing but an object
“Don't go on instagram then” they say
“But I've done nothing wrong.”

Our girls and women
Our daughters and our mothers
Anxious to walk on our paths to education or work.
6 out of 10 dread the thought of stepping on the streets once again.
Its 2021 and our woman have fear
Like the yorkshire ripper is out and about.

I curse my sight
I don't want to see that 97% are victims
We are survivors
Why have 80% been harassed in public
Look with your heart.
This is not normal
Stop normalising.

I am not a lamb and you are not my shepherd
To all the girls that are in their school uniforms
Getting the whistle by people older than their fathers
Im sorry.

I'm sorry that 1 out of 3 have lived through this.
And sorry for all the little girls hold their best friend in their arms,
As she sobs

I don't want to see this
This is not my future
So let me eat snow whites apple and wake me up
When the world learns to give a ****.
Kacie Mar 31
When I was 5 I wanted to be a dolphin,
When I was 8 I Wanted to be a hairdresser,
At 12 I wanted to join the army.

And now
I want to be safe.
When I dreamed of growing up I was excited for freedom.
I never thought i be in the same trap I've been stuck in since I started puberty
I dreamed of falling in love like my parents,
Like my grandparents.

But now I'm stuck in a generation that is random nudes on snapchat is the new romance.
‘It’s my fault’ I have curves, long hair, big chest.
We have be singing the same song since forever,
We finally added a new chorus in 1920,
But now it’s time for a new one,
No one is listening to music from 100 years ago.
No one thinks it’s still relevant .

When I was 13 I wanted to be beautiful,
When I was 14 I wanted to be skinny
At 15 I wanted to be successful.

I don’t want to be cat called in the street,
Boys it’s no compliment
It’s scary.
I’m scared.
Always fearful .
I don’t want to walk alone at night
Don’t want to pass a group of boys
Having that pit in the bottom of your stomach is exhausting.

I am someone’s daughter.
I am someone’s sister, someone’s cousin, someone's friend.
I am not here for your pleasure.
Don't comment on my instagram that I am
Hot and you be DTF.
Don't tell me i'm asking for it
When I wear a dress when it's 20 degrees.

When I was 16 I wanted to travel the world
And now at 17, I don't want to leave my room.
PhoenixTetra Mar 27
I put a mask on,
I play the toughest of all,
“Made of steel”, I repeat
But when in action, I freeze
My body freezes,
My brain freezes,
Motionless, I stare
Into thin air,
Waiting for this moment to be over,
Because i no longer have the power


-I have never had it in the first place.
NAL Jan 22
It was so long ago, but as soon as the dreams
or flashbacks enter; it's her reality once again.
Dropping to the floor, she begins to cry silently
at first...until she begins to scream at the walls again.
Huddled against the bath floor, she no longer felt
the comfort or protection of the hot air nor the
warm water that beaded her body behind the curtain.
Crawling into the fetal position in her bed, she covers both
palms against her mouth as she cries and screams silently.
His hands are back under her waistband; caressing her skin
with his rough hands. She begins to shake as she feels his
breathing on her neck as if she was there in bed with him again.
The shower is no longer comforting but reminds her how
vulnerable she is. As she curses and pleas for whys and hows;
another flashback hits her. The pool is where he grabbed her,
touching her mound and even thrusting himself against her;
but she can't do anything; she's still. Thrashing in her bed,
she struggles to contain the sobs that emit as she sits up in her bed.
Next, she's in the classroom where who she thought was her friend
slipped a hand down her shorts in the darkroom, but she pushes him
back and tears slip out of her eyes as she moves away from him.
As she stands in her towel staring at her bloodshot eyes in the mirror,
she almost snarls at herself; "But you let it happen; it's your fault."
As if her reflection was another person, she breaks into fits of cries again,
"I didn't want it and they did an-"
She opens her eyes to wake up to her room; alone.
She didn't feel anything but disgust as she got up, heading
straight to the bathroom for another shower.
As she starts it and begins to strip, she stares at herself in the mirror,
frowning in disgust at her body that people seemed to want to take
advantage of; even when she wasn't of age. She was barely even a woman.
As she climbs into the shower, she sits in the floor with her face
in her hands with the question that she's been asking since she was barely eleven: Why? Why? Why?! Why?! Why! Why Me!
Night terrors and a small form of PTSD plagues her life of male hands that have grabbed her
Eva Tongali Dec 2020
i remember confiding in you.
telling you about the men who stole from me,
tore apart my flesh,
took everything i had when i was too young to understand i was losing something,
and i remember your face.
your face was filled with pain as you told me it wasn’t my fault,
that i did nothing wrong and there was nothing more i could’ve done,
you were going to be the good i saw in men.

i remember when i told you about the boys who asked me for pictures.
and all of the lies they told to force me into doing it,
saying they would come to my house and do the things that those men had done,
i was afraid.
but when i told you there was promise and hope in your eyes,
comforting me telling me that once again,
i was not to blame.
you were going to be the good i saw in men.

and then you became worse than the men i had told you about.
each and every one.

you said it you wanted me to become comfortable in my body.
you said that you knew how insecure i was and wanted to make me feel better about myself.
you said i had to because if i could do it for other guys, i owed it to him.
you said you were going to **** yourself if i didn’t.

i loved you,
and i think i always will.
you made me realize that there is no good in men,
and for the two years you forced me into submission,
i will never get the part of myself that you stole back.
i just want to learn how to let go of you. but most importantly, i want to learn how to love myself again.

- Eva Tongali
You tried to touch me,
and I said no.
You still tried and I pushed you away
asking…. no, telling you to leave me alone.
But still, you grabbed me,
like an object that belonged to you.
And when I still said no,
you acted like that was your cue
to grab me again
and do what you do.
You were my best friend
and now I ******* hate you!
I still blame myself for what you did to me.
How is that fair?
It’s been 4 years and I think about it daily.
While you don’t even care.
You ruined high school for me.
I had to see you every day in band.
But I still blame myself,
for not putting you on the stand.
about my ****** assault in 9th grade
I got the school involved, they did nothing despite my concrete evidence
Norman Crane Sep 2020
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.
agatha Jun 2020
(seven)
i stopped wearing shorts—
unable to stop feeling eyes raking my legs
up and down, up and down.
i didn't even know there was a word for that.

(ten)
i started wearing clothes
a size big for me.
they did not ask why
i get angry whenever they force me
to wear something that clings.

i hated puberty,
how things would grow and change,
and they would stare.

(eleven)
i tried wearing shorts again.
immediately i get the feeling of someone
trailing behind me.
i went home as quickly as possible.

(thirteen)
i wore baggy clothes during commute—
a blouse and jeans. it was a thirty minute ride.
it felt longer. especially since this man
sat next to me,

hounding me nonsense— anong pangalan mo?
i do not answer.

that night, i had my resolve—
i will never commute alone again.
people laughed at me. hinahatid ka kasi lagi.

no.

(fifteen)
i started giving prolonged glares,
staring into the eyes of the beast
whenever i hear a whisper as i pass by.
hello, saan ka pupunta?

so i stare them down. funny how
they back away
as i stop in my tracks asking with my eyes
"what now, imbecile?"

does it feel bad when people don't tolerate
the ******* coming out of your mouth?

(nineteen)
ano ba kasi ang suot niya? they ask.
everything feels white-hot, searing.
i refuse to hear anymore of that.

exit.

(twenty)
every time i go home on my own
i carry something
in my hands, a blade if you must.
the night sky begins to envelop the horizon.
the streetlights cast their sickly orange hue
on the pavement as i take one last look at the hospital.

i hope i make it home in time.
"hello, anong pangalan mo?" : hello, what's your name?
"hinahatid ka kasi lagi." : well, you always have a ride.
"hello, saan ka pupunta?" : hello, where are you going?
"ano ba kasi suot niya?" : what was she wearing?
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