Dear dad,
I'm 18 years old,
and you've been out of my life for 17 years and 42 weeks of it.
You missed out on your little girl learning, and growing, and turning into a woman.
Someone else taught me how to ride a bike,
but I don't think that you mind missing something so important.
I don't think you mind missing recitals, and concerts and shows.
I don't think you'd even recognize me if you saw me on the street.
You don't deserve the title dad,
so for as long as I can remember, I've called you sperm donor.
Because that's all you ever given me (except for daddy issues and hereditary mental illness).
You don't deserve the title dad because you never taught me how I was supposed to be treated;
so I settled for too little, and longed to be loved.
But now, I don't even call you sperm donor,
I neglect to recognize your existance in my life,
because let's face it, you were never even a possibility.
I feel bad after all these years,
because you missed out on the joy of having a daughter,
and being a father.

Original poem by Tasa Jalbert. Copyright 2017
Ace Malarky Dec 8

wrinkled eye
      news of years gone by
cardboard, cotton, polyester
      bitter whiskey, wounded mind a-fester

fog a window with her breath
     licking cookie crumbs
holds the sign between two fingers
     frost burnt up her thumbs


It's winter again.
Alaska Dec 7

It all makes sense now...
Why I have so many issues
with love...and being loved...
With men...and attention from them...
The past has been brought up a lot lately..
And it's driving me insane that...
I might just crash.

To Absent Days' Gone,

The strength of weakness Betrays Oneself.

The Weakness of Strength defaces the purity of a love so strong as to entwine ones' life and being.

A heart in chaos sees nearsighted,

The part I play is that of the puppet to mineself.

But Thanks to thou who'd show me the painful truth.

Set my aching heart free from itself and show me,





To coexist so tightly to seem as one in the same.

Truth speak,

I will listen.

I will learn.

I am not alone, not in myself nor in others.

I Am, Myself.

~Robert van Lingen

Ophelia O Dec 6

Please put gloves on
before you touch me
grab them off the counter
plastic dripping yellow
wet from dishwashing
I don't mind
the creaking sound
of plastic trying to stick
to my skin
your touch is dangerous
too full of his memory
no longer can anyone
touch me
please put gloves on
to protect you
to protect me
I'm sorry

anon Dec 4

the thing is
i'm not a sociopath
i don't hate you
i'm not angry

i'm not a lesbian
or asexual
or something

i just

can't commit

my parents never taught me
what a healthy relationship
should look like
because they don't know

and so i've only ever been

and i need you to understand
that i like you
i think you're cute
and the way your hair
complements your face
is beautiful

and oh my goodness
your laugh is
a tune
i could play for hours
and not get annoyed
or tired

but i know
that because i'm hurt

i might hurt you
by not
loving you
the way i should
and not
to you
like you deserve

SL Nov 30

You're lucky to have a family, how could you say you're not
People don't have a family like yours, your parents are still together - what do you have to complain about
You should be happy to have a sister, I would kill to have a sister
Life is different behind closed doors
You see a happy family out in the streets but you don't know what happens at home, when the doors are closed, when it's night and everyone comes home
I have family yes, but is it a good family? Is it a family that I would want to spend time with?
Don't assume my life is perfect
Don't assume that I get everything that I want
My family is complicated and no one wants to know what happens behind closed doors
Once you say you can't take it back
What happened to your wrist? Nothing, don't worry
Why do you have bruises on your arms and legs? I fell
These are the typical responses I give when something happens at home
You look tired, have you been getting enough sleep?
How could I sleep when my mind is always on and there are fights
No one knows what happens behind closed doors.

Everyone has secrets regarding their family and that no one is perfect.

The sadness comes by
Anxiety passes
Excitement is brief
Happinness for masses

You laugh and you sleep
-Maybe for too long-
You cry and you weep
You seem to be wrong
About all your hobbies
Your dreams and desires
Cause none of them
Make you
Happy, it tires!
And it pains you to CORE
How these fucking people
Keep saying your a bore
Your lazy and almost fetal
Laying in your bed
It's Lethal! It's Lethal!


Planted in my mind by my father.
Fed & watered by my first love.
Shined down upon by my second "love".
Ignored in the winter months after the sun left us.
Then there was him.
It seemed like for once the tiny crack in my mind where it grew from was slowly starting to wilt and die off.
Then the spring came.
You let me down, and the next thing I knew it was 100* and the small darkness grew at an astounding rate.
I was trapped in my own personal hell.

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