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M Vogel Jul 2021

Insane, jealous wives..
controlling ones
They are everywhere
or at least  they are,
with the men she knows..

So she comforts them
in their affliction,
in a cherub-like  way--
these poor men,

with their  insane,
controlling  girlfriends  and

crazy, jealous women
that refuse to allow  their men
to talk to her
or be alone in a room, with her

It seems as though  
the world is filled  with
insane,   controlling
jealous women--

at least,  in the lives
of the men  she knows,
there is.

taught  well
at such a tender young age.

the problem is always elsewhere
Andrew Rueter May 2021
To the person who's sexually attracted to children
but has never acted upon that attraction:
Thank you
it's not always easy doing the right thing
and I understand the stigmatization you face
in a society where advocating killing you is socially encouraged
for the forced productions in the privacy of your mind
usually stemming from traumatic childhood abuse
but don't let them stop you from getting help
for the misery and frustration associated with
constantly denying one's ****** urges
for the sake of others.

Nobody is born an angel or a demon
walking along we pick up horns or halos midstride
often confusing one for the other
often trading one for the other
often naming one for the other
until heavenly hellspawns
attack with horned halos.

To the person who perpetuates the stigma against those people
through edgy internet posts and comments
like it's some sort of controversial sentiment
that isolates those people until they crack
usually just so you can virtue signal militancy
so you can feel good about yourself through persecuting others:
Nola Leech Jan 2021
Mommy, nothing about the way you raised me was normal
It hurts me to think out of everyone you may have hurt me the worst
Because you allowed me to think it was normal
You put me in ****** situations at an extremely young age
Momma, I was four
This was before Dad died
He was on top of you and I was on top of him
If it didn’t happen then why do I remember the PJs i was wearing?
Why do I remember how sweaty he was and how the tv was going?
I remember it was late and my sister was sleeping in her room
Why should I have to explain this to you?
I know you remember
I always thought it was normal how you let me look and touch your body
I was six or seven, I was curious about what I was always exposed to
It made me uncomfortable that you would always talk about how you loved my *******
I told you this
I will most likely never tell
Because I am scared of the men you exposed me to
But I am more scared of you
I thought that you’d never hurt me
But nothing about the way I was raised was normal
In conclusion found out that my bio mother had been molesting me too and making sure that I thought it was normal my whole life so any man that wanted to could hurt me and I wouldn't think twice
Clove Jan 2021
I miss you mommy

I think about you a lot
About who you were
And what you were
To me

How kind and self-sacrificing you were
How hardworking
How strong
How beautiful and loving and warm and bright

Oh, how I miss you!

But the more I think about you
The more I realize
Just how fragile
You truly were

How your kindness
And self-sacrificing nature
Was the result of abusive parents
Who constantly molested your body and mind,
Spewing lies of you
Being meaningless and unlovable
As they rubbed their sins and selves upon you

Oh, how you wanted to be loved and needed!

How you used hardwork
To gain the fraudulent love and care
Of rotten people,
Who used you to fill their pockets
And laze around on the back of your efforts.

Oh, how they hurt you!

How your strength
Was throwing up walls
To keep them out,
So they could never penetrate
Deep enough into your heart
To ever hurt you again.

Oh, how you feared they would!

And how your
Warmth and
Was who you truly were
And who you promised yourself to be.

For me
My brother
And my dad

For friends and strangers
My cousins, aunts and uncles
And my horrible grandparents

For all of us
Because it made you feel
Loved and needed

And you were
You were so very
Loved and needed

I hope you knew that you were

I miss you mommy
I love you mommy. I need you mommy. I would've done anything for you. I wish you were still alive, even if you had lasting brain damage and kidney failure from covid, I would've taken care of you.
Why did you have to die? Why did you leave me here? Why didn't you take me with you?
I know you didn't want to leave, but knowing it doesn't make me feel any better.
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
Nola Leech Sep 2020
I used to want him to love me
So I'd pretend that he was my dad
Now I know that his kind of love was wrong
He was very evil, very bad
yúyīn Jun 2020
Do you even know what it’s like for someone to rob you of your trust?
Do you know what it’s like to not understand why this is happening to you?
Do you know what it is like to feel responsible for what’s happened to you?
Do you know what it’s like to be scared to say anything?

Do you know what it’s like to feel nasty and no matter the showers you take you still feel unclean?
Do you know what it’s like to feel uncomfortable around anyone.
Do you know how it feels to lose sleep over something that hurt you?
Do you know what it feels like to never forget?

Do you know what it feels like to be paranoid everywhere you go?
Do you know what it feels like to see them walk around like all is well?
Do you know what it feels like to talk about it but still feel heavy?
Do you know what it feels like to be told it’s your fault?

Do you know what it feels like to want to rewrite that chapter but have no eraser?
Do you know what it feels like to have your innocence taken and not given?

Lemonade Jun 2020
My friend puking out her Christmas dinner like a little girl trying to scrub off that uncle’s touch who tells her she is his favorite kid.
For her dad fat shames her every day.

My friend’s parents sending her to therapy because they don’t get how she can like a boy as well as a girl. Or rather don’t try to, because calling it phase is so much easier than explaining to the neighbors how that is who their daughter is. They are oblivious to what it is like to live in a home where you are treated like a victim of your existence.

My friend needs help, a little attention and someone to talk to.
His family is ashamed, how they could have done better for him, how they’re responsible for the things inside his head and I still don’t know what depression does to him, his family doesn’t like to talk about it.
They’d rather consider him possessed because anything is better than people knowing that he needs therapy and love and care. “Their son can’t be suffering from mental illness, they’re a happy family.”

My friend tells me she’s turning into her mother, and her mother let me tell you, she’s fabulous and fierce for she has been through things harsher than a lover who never says,'I love you’ but wants you to be their ***** little secret and you love them a little too much to deny. My friend, she had an anxiety attack last night for she can’t go out with her guy friends, neither talk to a classmate for too long because her boyfriend might start ****-shaming her. I disapprove and tell her she is not turning into her mother but when I sit in their living room, and aunty brings me snacks while talking to me about life within these faint green walls of the house and what did I eat for breakfast. I ask her to go out sometimes because there are so many things out there that she’d be experiencing and creating, friendship, weather, languages, people, art, emotions. And smell some sunlight in the lush greens fields. She says she’s not allowed to, like a kid calling its mother, "Ma". Her husband loves his ***. And her helplessly hazardous heart, too drained to take ‘harlot’ for a word from an alcohol-soaked throat.
The same walls that once adored their wedding photographs now question their love.

My friend’s girlfriend telling him she loves him but they can’t be together because she’s doesn’t want to be seen with him in the streets. But she seeks his warmth in the winter and leaves right before spring. He loses a little bit of himself every time she does that. He blames himself for what love does to him.

The woman who wears a heavy heart to the bed, finds it difficult to put herself to sleep, holds her dog for a little too long. Whose husband refuses to try therapy.
For I can't margin in metaphors, the agony within the wives who haven't been touched for years.
And the woman who feels a little less human after every night her husband forces himself on her. Because she's, his wife. His. Possession not prized but objectified.
The wife whose husband refuses to wear a ******, she gulps down pain every morning with the pills.
Families of these women, who were taught to think that is how the society functions and who are unwilling to unlearn.      

My friend’s brother asking her to stop wearing that short skirt around guests. There's a hole in her heart every time she remembers the traces his hands left on that infertile body of the kid that looked just like her. He pretends like it never happened.
Tell me the things I can change to make this piece of writing better.
pragya santani May 2020
She came from a small suburban town,
Her conservative parents shaped her background.
Her dreams were withered down to a trickle,
She had to be married off as per the societal shackles.

One fine day when her age was “right”,
Her parents shipped her off with man they considered a knight.
It was the beginning of a lifelong nightmare,
Every night a pair of patriarchal cuffs she was made to wear.

And thus with each passing night,
She was subjected to his vicious smite.
Her cries for help were paused
As marital **** was never stated in laws.

I welcome you behind these closed doors.
I have no other skeletons buried in my wardrobe.
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