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Corrinne Shadow Nov 2020
Don't talk to me about your love,
I've never seen a drop of it.
Don't talk to me about the climb,
I'll never reach the top of it.
Don't talk to me about the flowers
You've been prattling on for ****** hours!
Don't talk to me as if I don't know
That "rain will make the flowers grow".

Don't talk to me about your dance
I don't even have a dress.
Don't talk to me about your friends
I beg of you, give it a rest!
Don't talk to me about the sky
Mine has only ever been gray.
And if you try to talk about "healing"
I'll MAKE you go away!

This whole world that you create,
It's gorgeous, I must say it's great:
A beautiful cake on a pretty plate.
Welp, guess that means I'm second-rate!
Your poems are all meant to titillate
You titter and twitter and domesticate
These themes that even optimists could hate
I'll never be able to felicitate
You enough for the work that you narrate.
My morbid tones you must negate,
And to fix my soul: eviscerate!
You all are fine but some douchette will not shut up about how morbid and dreary my poems are. I regret ever having shown her.
Sarah Flynn Nov 2020
once, I told you that I loved the
sound of thunderstorms

but it hasn't felt sunny
since you left.



I'm so tired
of hearing this rain.
Sarah Flynn Nov 2020
my abuser was a predator,
and I'm sure he still is.

predators don't change.
they are naturally
carnivorous creatures.

they are all the same.
it must be one monster
inhabiting millions
of human bodies,

and that monster seems
impossible to ****.

he enjoys draining
the life from his prey.

he has an
insatiable appetite

and a sweet tooth
for my innocence.

he uses the salty
taste of my tears
to season his meal.

and when he finally
sinks his teeth
into my skin,

the force of his jaws
crack open my skull.

he leaves a bite mark
on my brain itself.

he's inhuman.
he's soulless.
he feels no pain.
he has no remorse.

it's too late for me.
he's already bitten,
and his jaws are
difficult to pry off.

but it's not too late
for all of those women
that this monster
is busy luring in.

if you are out there,
please save them.

another child
will be taken
and forced to
grow up overnight.

another woman
will lose her life.

these women
are everywhere.

if you know one,
please, help her
to run away.

if you are one,
please, leave and
don't look back.

there is no
human heart
inside of a monster.

you cannot change him.
you can only leave,
and change yourself.
Sarah Flynn Nov 2020
I'm not expecting
to go to heaven.

the truth is that
I don't even
want to die.

I just want to
be someone new
with a fresh start.

I just want to
leave this life behind.

if I have to die to leave,
I can't promise you
that I won't.

I need to leave.
I need to go

to heaven or hell
or a forgotten town
off the grid somewhere.
I don't care.
I just need to go.

anywhere but here...
anywhere but here...
a n y w h e r e   b u t   h e r e
Sarah Flynn Nov 2020
it's 2:56am, and I'm lying next to a stranger.
when the sun rises, I'll already be gone.
I'll have already climbed out of his bed,
found my clothes, tiptoed
to the front door, and vanished.
the house will be left exactly as it was.
his car will still be parked in the driveway.
the curtains will still be drawn.
the withering houseplant in his kitchen
will remain unwatered.
everything will be left untouched.
when I leave, it will appear
as if I had never been there at all.
but I was.

two weeks from now,
he won't remember my name.
he won't remember anything
besides the feeling of skin on skin,
of a warm body pressed up against his.
in his mind, I will have been
nothing more than another body.

I always imagined that going home
with a complete stranger would feel wrong,
would be terrifying, that not knowing
who is next to me when I am falling asleep
would be scary.

a few months ago, it was 2:56am
and I was lying next to a stranger.
this time, he wasn't a complete stranger.
this was not my first night with him,
far from it. I knew him. he knew me.
I wasn't gone when the sun rose
in the morning. the house was left
exactly as it was the night before.
the only difference was that this time,
I was still there.

two weeks after that night,
he would remember my name.
he would remember my laugh,
my freckles, my eyes
my voice when I was tired,
how I talked too fast
whenever I was excited,
the way that I looked at him
when I was in love.
and I would remember all
of those little things about him,
the same way he would remember
all of those little things about me.

I always imagined that sleeping next
to someone who I loved would feel safe,
would be comforting, that knowing the
person next to me when I am falling asleep
would be wonderful.

for the most part, my imagination
wasn't incorrect. I was right when I pictured
how incredible sleeping next to
someone who I loved would feel.
I was right when I pictured how frightening
sleeping next to someone
who I didn't know would feel.
I was right about most of it.

but I was wrong about one thing.
while lying in a bed at 2:56am,
I realized that the memory
of sleeping with a complete stranger
hurt far less than the memory
of sleeping with someone
who I once thought I knew.
xavier thomas Nov 2020
Gangs came recruiting
Stirring up trouble
Our lives were a gamble
Lets run away
We moved south to Kentucky
Home-town got ******
Our home was unsafe
Childhood memories vanish away

We watch the news
& settled down
Saw people dying
All in the streets
Was once was Paradise, now turned into a ghost-town
Meanwhile,

Gangs came recruiting
Stirring up trouble
Our lives were a gamble
Lets run away
We moved south to Kentucky
Home-town got ******
Our home was unsafe
Childhood memories vanish away
We were just kids from the south-side of Chicago
Blessed by the grace of God to quickly escape the gang life
Sarah Flynn Oct 2020
I hope you know
that I will never need you.

I might want you.

I might love you.

I might hope that
you never leave me.

but you need to realize
that no matter how badly
I want you in my life,

I will never need you.
Sarah Flynn Oct 2020
"you're alright."
"it's just a panic attack."
"he's not here."

no, you don't understand.
he is here.
he never left.

he’s not in between my legs,
but he’s still invading my mind.

I don't feel like
myself anymore.

I'm not myself anymore,
not fully.

he's still inside of me.
he never left.
Kristina Oct 2020
If all the clocks stood still for a whole day I'd pack my bags and take a walk.

As I leave the house I don't check my mail 'cause nobody could reach me anyway this day. I walk down the streets, breathe in the clean air and listen to the sound of silence since there are no cars or people around.

A song forms in my mind, which I sing while walking down my path alone. I reach the park next to my home and look around. Noone's there except the wind fondling the trees and bushes. A few yellow flowers are growing on the meadow, not wondering why they are even there.

I keep on walking, reach a huge square that's totally empty. I pull some chalk out of my backpack and begin drawing on the ground. I take my time drawing while admiring the place in a way I've never been able to before due to all the people and noise.

"Love is the answer, not matter what you're asking.", is written there now for everyone to see. I leave the place, walking on, taking down flags, posters and stickers of fascists and racists on my way, replacing them with rainbows and hearts.

Until the sun sets, I keep walking around, tearing down signs of hatred and building those of love.

As midnight draws nearer I sit down in the park I visited first this day, watching the world starting up again. It starts with clocks ticking, birds singing, the growing sound of voices and vehicles. The others are waking up again, hopefully to notice the traces I've left behind, maybe wonder and think about them.

I hope to have changed anything on this one day I had as my time stops and I fade away leaving a small share of silence.
Finally my clock stood still.
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