You took away a childhood that wasn’t yours to take.
My younger year were spent away.
Hiding from your screams not known to be fake.
You left us alone with nothing to say
Because we couldn’t stand the sight of you
Afraid of what you might do.
You stole a life from me, too bad I learned.
I won’t let you get in my way any longer
Because the tables have finally turned.
I am going to write my own story without your blur.
I have my life planned I can do it!
Despite what you said, my life can be lit.

This is not a poem.
This is my stories, I tell through my voice, my written words who scream out loud.

How it is to bee lonely, ignored, pressured and not at least a teenager. Im sorry if I have used this microphone (page) wrong.

Because my words are not considered as poems who rhymes, or have a deep meaning.

But they rhyme with my heartbeat, these are the "deep" thoughts I have about life. So I have to scream they down on paper, use my voice. So my brain does'nt have a mess.
So. This is not a poem.
These written words on my page, are my story.

I never told anyone.
I kept it all a secret,
Written on my arms.
It's hard to think,
That someone cares.
I think I still hate myself,
I'm still tempted by the pain,
Then I think of your face,
And the disappointment there,
If you only knew what I'd done,
To fight the battle.
If you understood the scars,
If you knew the reasons.
My scars are poetry,
They hold a story.
I know the past of each.
I wish I had the courage,
To speak up, bare my scars.
I make up stories,
About why they're there.
I say something stupid,
No one ever suspected.
They still don't.
But my body aches to tell.
For someone to listen.
If they truly looked,
They'd see it was already written,
On my arms.

My untold story needs some legs
To start walking
Because what is it doing wearing dem boots
If it don't start stomping its feet
For all the world to hear?

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the thirteen years I went without a mom because men were worth more than her children. I could never compare to the materialistic things and we both knew that. It was the nights I cried myself to sleep wondering where my mom was and if I even crossed her mind anymore. The days she came around, she’d bring her ***** dollar bills and try to buy my love with money. I swear that was never enough, whoever said money can buy happiness ******* lied.

It’s not that I don’t love you, it’s just that I’m my fathers twin and he still forced a blood test on my mom. I guess he didn’t want it to be real that bad. It was all the times I had to reach out for him to even notice my existence, what a dead beat. He tried to tell me he loved me, but I’m 17 now and he doesn’t know a thing about me. How can he say he loves me?

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s just that my sister cheated on her husband two weeks after he went to Afghanistan. She blamed it on their “marital problem” but he left trying to make a better life for his family. It made me sick the way she pretended to love him for months. She never even apologized for ruining their picture perfect family.

It’s not that I don’t you. It’s just that I’ve watched my best friends break down on my bedroom floor four times now because she doesn’t feel like she’s enough to be loved. She met a boy who kept her a secret for eight months because he had a girlfriend and it seems like she’ll never get past it. I guess you hold onto the bad things forever.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time my counselor started crying as I told her about my first heart break because she knew that feeling. Her and her husband were on a break and she was struggling to take care of her two children by herself. I’m pretty sure that day I became the counselor for two hours. She told me I had the most beautiful soul and anyone would to be lucky to have me, I found that rather hard to believe.

What I’m trying to say is… It’s not that I don’t love you, it’s that I do.

All the crazy **** I do
& no one even has the slightest clue
They only hear parts of what I've been through
Only if they knew
& all of its true
See it always gets me flowin'
& no telling how long I can keep it goin'
Some parts may sound the same
but that's not how I spit my game
I'm better than that..
that's ******* lame
So **** whatever you claim
& let me try to explain
after this you'll always remember my name
Forever imprinted in your brain
hard to get out like a blood stain
You might as well leave it there to remain
& you'll always have good thoughts with not one reason to complain
because I'm Becky Littmann *****!
My words will leave you with a nervous twitch
because I've turned up the switch
Now even faster than a softball pitch
my words are sharp & hard hitting, they will leave your brain needing more than one stitch
You could end up in a ditch
but you'll realize it was all a dream after I give you a lil' pinch
....actually your mind had a glitch
& your brain may have slightly came unhitched
I can fix it though, it's a cinch
Just sit right here on the bench
Now can you just hand me that wrench
it may hurt a bit, so your teeth I would clench

I'm **** proud to write so clever
I'll write about anything & whatever
I don't want to stop ever
writing is so freeing, however
it's annoying when you can't write whenever
& the words & thoughts just building up with no time to write, whatsoever
You're freaking out cause you can't wait to put them together
Eventually finding time to write & share it with whomever
there's no way I would not share my work, nope NEVER
You'll always know me any place you are, yes wherever
SO WHAT'S MY NAME.... DO YOU REMEMBER??
Crazy may be what the call me but Becky Littmann is me forever

You may know my name now
& have heard my stories & thought WOW
But you'll never completely know what I've been through
& what I truly value
it's my life & I won't argue
I've only given you a preview
& none of it would I undo
because to me none of it was an issue
everyone may have their point of view
or their opinion about what I choose to pursue
but honestly that's nothing new
I wasn't asking for your thoughts but wanted to explain to you
what made me wiser & how I grew
I'll cherish every memory & moment with my crew
which brought me to the point of a new
...ME to debut!
& experience what some people may think is taboo
I'm glad I shared moments with a certain few
& no names need to be said, they already know who
I'll continue to be crazy & do all that it is I simply love to do
Being myself & staying true
So with all that, I bid you adieu..

sometimes I feel very very small*

I am here
on the bed
a cocoon
fighting desperately to be a butterfly

you are there
a bird
big strong wings waiting
to eat me.

I am small
like a loose thread from an old sweater
moving against fingertips
you could roll me into a ball

and you are the smudge on the window pane
that this ball cannot wipe away.

I am the small drop on the shower head
clinging, trepid,
anticipating my great fall

you are the hairs on the shower drain
not going anywhere
stuck
hindering the flow.

I am small
and I am tired of you

I am sick of the parts of you still in me.

I am the cocoon
desperate
-ly fighting
to be

aching for freedom
I break my mattress cage

I crumble, choke, struggle
instead of fly

The feathers in my pillow
are yours

now,


smother me.