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Descovia Nov 2022
Act Boldly

Be courageous

Stay True To Yourself.

I promise you. I will fly with victory.
I feel empowered. I feel alive.
I do not know, what the world want me to become.
I'm alone in my world, there's only few of us trying to save and change lives.

Your strength moved many forward.
I'll find my place in power, in all due time.
Love to give, plants to grow, water to spread, mountains to climb.
Puzzling encounters I must navigate with obstacles to surpass.
Changes in the wind all moves with earth so fast.
In the center of the blizzard, I'm fighting all to stay here.
I conquered demons my other side feared.
When we dream, it's true.
We dream of flying.
We can only soar so far in life.
Until one is too sore to soar anymore for amor.
Your wings spread grace and liberty awaits you.
Believe in your destiny.
May you receive from angels above.

Do not forget the people you love.
Dedicated to idol and mentor Jason Vukovich.
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:
badtaste May 2020
for those that support the disorder of life,
understand the order of all peace kept - sleeps with one hand tight with a knife,

covered in sheets that reek from the odor of death - secrets creep over the  security that was sworn to be kept,
molded from laws as soft as  concrete constantly mocking the hungry  families who eat dinner with a papier-mâché fork wrapped in  barbed wire,

like a Christmas present expired to be opened on Halloween - the corporate begs for his try as he fears his life will be silenced  from the woman screaming inside the screen of a machine,

trails hide liars but it is unanimous  the innocence is such an inconvenience to those who share a chair in power - one more child is treated as a photo never receiving justice as  deserved,
dessert is served but sentencing was never heard - the Franklin family left without any sweet revenge,
it seems big business buys opinions and walks clean with red covered hands that dipped in the process

such a shame the court caught an inner most disgusting sickness and deserted dignity from the rights of 13-year old Rebecca Arnold Frank
true story
ari Mar 2020
from the ripe age
of 8 years young
i found myself with
too much access
to a dangerous place
where scary men lurk
to steal little girls like me
"you're beautiful," they'd say
"i love you"
"if you leave i will **** myself"
grooming me like a
villain's lapcat
luring me into a
fake love so that i may
be violated over and over again
conditioned to be a victim
of manipulative animals
who treat me, a child,
like a lover
"i've always liked younger girls,"
my brainwashed mind
blushing at the idea
that someone, somewhere
thought i was worthy of "love"
trigger warning for ******* mention
Rob Sandman Oct 2019
on the 20th of February 1987,
a young boy realised there was no Heaven,
***** by a priest he would trust with his life
****** muddy tears as he cried out to Christ,

the pain and the shame twisted in him like a knife
harrowing and harrying the rest of his life,
the guilt and MORE shame-now he's the one to blame?
tyrannical abuse has put his soul in the frame

like Dorian Gray,his life is fading away,
like the thousands of others betrayed in the same way,
by authority figures with a license to abuse

who look on their sacred charges as toys to use
you seem confused,you've never seen it on the news?,
decades of abuse kids ***** and abused,
and the Nuns just as bad Girls treated like slaves,
innocent Babes buried in shallow graves

The grubby crimes committed by a small proportion
from child abuse to forced slavery and abortion
the conduit to heaven is a broken kaleidescope,
grubby Cherubim Satanicus removed all hope. rpt x 2

Cry til you have cataracts, modern day Cataphracts
trapped in the catacombs by the evil Tesseract,
of twisted trappings of a dead gods worship,
the treasure Galleons turned out to be Warships,
loaded with diseased idols that turn on you like the Ark,
eyes burnt out by evil primeval sparks,
friendly dolphins were revealed to be Sharks,
as you slowly slip...ever further in the dark.
This Poem and it's "Brother"- Unchristian was one of the most difficult things I've ever written.(it's not 100% finished,I need my full strength to finish it off)
Every PIECE of it is fact not fiction,I tried to tell My Story and that of my Friends old and new who suffered at the hands of monsters who claimed to be angels.

IS IT a small proportion? We'll never know how many.

cleann98 Dec 2018
mama, i made someone happy yesterday!
i smiled as the door opened
              just as i always did
it was my first time to be chosen
    to be honest i was so nervous
they made me try out so many clothes
they said i had to look as pretty as i should
         they said they were trying to bring out
         my youthful look...
i never thought that meant
     more skin.
     more chest.
     more legs.
              he was an old man
wrinkles ravaged round his face
yet his smile had no blemish
          he stared at me
          and chose me almost immediately
i was never more proud
yet i was clueless of what next to do
    i should have wrote to you as early as then
         but as soon as
       we arrived
                          at my 'new home'
                or at least that was how he called it
   he called me to his room
            he nearly had to kneel
            in order to see me
      i thought he was going to hug me
      as he leaned in
                                 he just undid my bra
            his hands were huge
            they cover almost my whole chest
he asked me to take of my shorts
        and he was smiling
   for once i knew
              i was doing something right
i barely slid my undergarment off and he pressed me against the unsuspecting bed
       he grabbed both my legs
                    as he told me to open them
              while he tole me to close my eyes
    he started
          pushing against me
      it was so so hard             so painful
relentless      excrutiating            i had to
                 bite my tongue to stop myself
         from screaming
               i think i was bleeding?
           i felt the blood pour out
                        i couldn't take it.
    i couldn't ask him to calm down
               it was just way too fast
he was panting                breathing heavily
         grunting         driving himself too hard
    it was like he could run out of breath
                       i wanted to make him stop
i really did
                   trust me.
            but as soon as i tried to shout
      or help him or something
                he fell over
          don't worry though he was still breathing
                           and his face
he just looked way too happy
           i was paralyzed the rest of the day
     until now i can barely stand up
                    but he was just so in bliss
       i hope you're proud of me mama.
              he said earlier he'd be taking me back
to the warehouse later
            i don't know why though.
     do you think he'll tell them i've been
         a good daughter?
                   i hope so.
mama i hope you write me back.
A Simillacrum Jul 2018
Tonight I watched young Kirsten Dunst get her baby neck ****** by two fully grown men on camera and it was done in the name of art. And if not art, money. And if not money, control. The painter and the profiteer want the same thing. So go Hollywood consume youth to produce martyr material madonna / ***** **** clones. So go cutting edge auteur headfirst for prestige with beans in full exposure as you ****-stuff and engorge those ***** throats with your muscular masculine meat sword. Tonight I watched Corey Feldman become the thing that men made and felt the shudder as he realized it's been over, baby.
It's been over, baby.
Charlie Dog Jun 2018
You read cheeper by the dozen once
and fell in love with a red head.
Now there are twelve of us.
Are you happy?
Is this what you really wanted?

I can't say childhood has been great,
knowing all you are is a number...
"hello I'm number 7"
lucky me.

They weren't ready for us.
I think dad hated me.
The neighbor next door seems nice.
He was the old grandfatherly type,

At least until he had you groomed...
Once he revealed his taste for children
it seemed too convenient for a little pig
to live next door to the big bad wolf.

Dad said I should have known better.
He told me that the wolf was
"too kind to a kid like you"
and that he
"gave out too much candy."
I should have known.
No one is ever that kind or sweet...

We moved,
and just kept moving.
Only ever a year in one spot.
I never made friends.
I had too many secrets,
and I was scared
they'd find out.

At 17 I got away.
And the secrets started slipping.
I was too tired to carry them anymore.
There wasn't anything to lose at this point anyway...

and a dash of
They say I'm hell bound...
Sounds like fun.
At least I'll get to live before I die.
ehhh, I don't know what to say about this one..
I let my inner child self have their voice.
Abby May 2018
they call me a nymphet
my narrow hips budding *******
my glowing skin rosebud lips
in the sun where i rest...
older women are fat and cold
with porous skin and dyed hair
they haven't their blades like gold
salient and bare
they haven't their thighs like ivory
of thin ivory are mine
i'm british and brattish
they're just fine
they call me a nymphet
with my schoolbag hanging
from my frail shoulder
decadent and delicate
please just for a while
not a nymphet
but a hurting child
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