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Alexis Jul 1
and if the rules of the church
are the only way i'll get into
              "heaven"
well,
         to hell
                    with that .
You stripped my self worth,
dragged me into an ocean of fear,
left me feeling impure and touched.

I wish I could feel
innocent and pure once more.
I wish I could shed
this skin along with my past away.
There is a secret;
The Secret of secrets
Beyond the imagination of our impure selves
There, lies all my unknown self
For I am a mystery yet untold.

Here, I am
But seen to be there.
There, was I
But not seen nor heard.

I was looked at, but not seen
I did not speak, but I was heard
I was not looked at, but I was seen
I was not heard, but I was listened to

This shadow is not mine but this body's
For I am not this body but this soul

—Jibril Abdulmalik ©2019
Poetress2 Apr 19
Within the stillness of that night,
when nothing seemed to be quite right;
They came to me with veins of ice,
and at that time, I was only nine.
~
What they wanted, I knew too well,
the shame, the pain, the guilt, the Hell;
My pulse went up, my heart, it fell,
they made me promise not to tell.
~
What could they possibly want with me,
I didn't understand, I couldn't see;
The horror drove me to my knees,
and I quietly cried out my small plea.
~
My call, it fell upon deaf ears,
as it had done, all of these years;
This wasn't the first time they brought fear,
nor the first time that I cried my tears.
~
"Won't you please just go away,"
this I wished, this I prayed;
But to no avail, they continued to play,
I felt that I was on display.
~
Just like the other nights before,
my body ached, and I was sore;
I didn't feel alive no more,
as I picked myself up off the floor.
~
When they were finished, they let me be,
alone again, just the walls and me;
I was shaking from my head to my feet,
they left me impure, and incomplete.
Poetress2 Apr 17
There was a little girl,
I knew so long ago;
What happened to this child,
I truly did not know.
~
I felt so badly for her,
as I watched her in her room;
She never laughed or smiled,
inside her small cocoon.
~
She simply sat there gazing,
had she ever been defiled;
I wondered as she sat there,
so timid and so mild.
~
She was a mini-me,
of this I knew for sure;
For she behaved like me,
after being made impure.
~
I turned my head away,
I couldn't watch no more;
I said a small prayer for her,
this little one of four.
Ako Mar 1
The ghost of my childhood is lingering around the wave of impurity. The more I imagine, the more I drown in my own misfortune.
And so, the life of an exile strives around his sin.
Jane Dec 2018
Dust, in the air
unseen impurity.

The spectrum of humanity, good and bad.
Black and white.

Being submerged in the black feels unnatural, unlike me.

I'm calling on my star for something unattainable,
unused,
pushed under the carpet.

It's presence sparkled when I saw a child laughing at the sky.  

Innocence.

To wear blue, and feel serene,
To wear yellow, and feel joy,
To wear pink, and feel love,
To wear purple, and feel life.

I used to wear Innocence.

I dress differently now,

I wear emerald green, and feel anxious,
I wear a cloudy grey, and feel impersonal.
I wear stained white, and feel everything
I wear only black, and feel nothing.

I wear sin now.

I'm all the things I once wished upon a star not to be.
harley r noire Jun 2018
feel, feel,
feel,

thrice screamed
yet the words
still lost their
allure,

letters scattered
along with
the ebbing
ardour,

candour and purity
vanished with
no trace,

and that was
when the
lights go
out.
when you feel your pieces are not that sincere anymore, when you are slowly and unconsciously writing to impress, not to express. that is when a poet is ailing.
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