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Raven Feels Apr 13
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, blood is shameless;]

impurity on the ***** red

I pure I shed

hunger I fed

so loose so tight on the lead

so irritating she bled

revolting when it messes with the head

doors closed sounds spread

again unlike the befores I said

polluted on garments I five the two

onto the further of the farthest of lives

I paint I skin

I smudge the thin in the thrill

till it comes to a ****

and a breathe is willed

for nails to blood

and fingers to clot

guilty shame not guilty shameless pleasures on the lots

I care I not


                                                               ­                      --------ravenfeels
r Feb 2020
Roll up! Roll up!
Examine the corrupt,
the nose, hair, the olive of skin.
Dishonourable, alloyed blood.

Rub, Rub
I can't get it off.
grate, burn, scour,
I can only cleanse, gloss, polish.

Look! Come and see
the fresh, clean impurity.
Lay on the table,
sparkling shimmering.
We cannot control these sinful things.
To all my ancestors who were persecuted for their religion and ethnicity.
Poet X Jul 2019
and if the rules of the church
are the only way i'll get into
         to hell
                    with that .
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
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 2019
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 2019
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 2019
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.
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