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pearl 1d
If I were to be given the option to **** you,
I would do it gently.
Lovingly.
I would hold your head in my lap
as I feel you become a heavy corpse.
I would lay flowers on your chest
as your breathing slows.
I would pray that you are both confused
and disgusted
by the sheer magnitude
of my forgiveness.

That it haunts you as you take your last breath.

That it haunts you in death.

In the end,
everything I write is about you.
it’s you! it’s you! it’s you!

it’s always you.
pearl 1d
If there is a God,
i trust that He would have already killed me                                                             out of pity
      He would have put this suffering
  to an end by now

     That would be the mark of a forgiving God.
              
I’ve never been religious,
               but lately I pray every night.

Sometimes on my knees
until they’re bruised and red
against the carpeted floor
      as it digs into my skin,

sometimes curled into myself
   like a dying animal,
    my fingers clasped together
so tightly that they begin                                                          to­ turn white
and my nails start to cut                                        into my flesh.

I beg Him to either
save me
or
end me.

  So far, He hasn’t done either.
Shawn Oen Jul 12
Bay One
HCMC Stabilization Unit

We stand in the bays where chaos lands first,
Where sirens deliver the battered and cursed,
Where blood speaks louder than words can shout,
And the line between life and death plays out.

The worst that humans do with their hands—
Steel, fists, gravity, bullets—no one understands.
A look in their eyes, sometimes blank, sometimes wild,
Sometimes it’s a man, sometimes it’s a child.

We patch what we can in fluorescent light,
Hold back the dark with our gloves pulled tight.
A breath returned is a battle won,
But the war? It’s never truly done.

Some come in screaming, some come pleading,
Some carried by hate, some swallowed by pills.
We don’t ask why—it’s not ours to know—
We just press and suture, and tell them, “Go.”

And then they come back—again, again,
Same wounds reopened, same cycle of pain.
Sometimes we see hope; sometimes just delay.
Sometimes we wonder why we stay.

But in between the screams and moans,
We witness the soul rebuilding its bones.
A girl who wakes, a heart that beats,
A mother’s cry when her boy finds his feet.

We see resurrection in the smallest spark—
A touch, a blink, a pulse in the dark.
And still, the ones we mend may fall,
But that doesn’t make our work small.

This place is heavy with what it holds—
The truth of the world, both savage and bold.
We clean the wounds of a broken street,
And sometimes, just barely, make it beat.

So if you ask how we carry this weight,
The violence, the cycles, the edge of fate—
We don’t have answers, just blood and breath,
And the stubborn will to wrestle death.

In Bay One, Two, Three, and Four… where the broken descend,
We’re not just healers—we’re witnesses, friends.
And though they may return, and return once more,
We’ll be here still, behind the secure door.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved
My warm embrace in your darkest days
Brought you comfort you never knew
But standing there while holding you close
I grew much colder, too.

Your grip grew strong, the walls caved in
Smothered, I started to squirm
But gazing in your pleading eyes
You leaned, and I stayed firm.  

Your edges are rough, through no fault of your own
But I am so, so soft
Shallow cuts can still run deep
My dear, you need to stop.

Your eloquent yet hollow words
Cloud my mind and senses
Empty oaths, a hamster wheel
I can’t beat your defenses.

My empathy has entrapped me
You’d never trust again
But I am worn, my eyes are dull
It’s not worth it in the end.

Our paths were meant to meet, not merge
You were nice to get to know
But please, I ask one thing of you
If you love me, let me go.
Lee 4d
I died in my sleep last night,
It happens a lot.
When the lines are blurred, between conscious and not.
I go back to my true home,
The house where I was raised.
I try to call you, but my cell service is dazed.
I’m only 11, I don’t have a phone.
I’ll go next store on the iPod touch.
Or my walkie talkie, but you can’t stray too much.
But then I awake and I’m in my bed,
At least that was consistent.
I wanna stay there forever,
I’m begging you, please, the pain is getting persistent
Mariah 5d
Everyone deserves to say
I should not have been treated that way
And feel free to refill that space
To be soft to what remains
Until they know they're safe
Or else nothing can change
We need to listen if we want to be heard.
I apologize too much.
I never think I do enough.
I always go beyond and above,
Still I’m too fragile to be loved.

I’m so scared of the truth,
Yet nothing else will ever do.
Happiness has been the goal,
But I fear forever feeling hollow.

You and I deserve the best of me.
But who am I—why can't I see?

I don't know how to say no.
People say, "stop," I still go.
Always there, always giving—
Yet alone when I need forgiving.

I'd climb a mountain, cross a sea.
I'd burn myself out just to meet a need.
But I've already lowered the bar—
It drags behind me like a scar.

The world is loud. The vision’s getting hazy.
Please help me now... I feel crazy.

So many faces—
Which is mine?
Each stitched with guilt,
A need to stay in line.

What if saying "no" could feel like peace?
What if I took a space just to breathe?
Would you hold me when I come undone?
Remind me I don't always have to run?

I'm worn, but still reaching.
I'm bruised, but still believing.
I don't need much, just to be seen—
Not as a mirror,
But a human being.
ac Jul 18
two years ago
we were at church camp
i told myself i forgive you
i told God that i forgive you

i thought that if i forgave you
the nightmares would stop
the triggers would cease
and that maybe a could see you as a person
and not the person who took everything from me

but that’s not what happened
it all got worse
the nightmares became real
i wake up screaming
begging for you to stop

i don’t forgive you
i never will
i hate you
with all of my being

they know what you did to me
and the know what it did to me
yet they allow you to bother me
they allow you to be in the same room
they allow you to be in society

if wishes were bullets
you’d be dead to me
Nosy Jul 17
The day of my release
I walked the streets
Seeing the sky and the grass under my feet
It was weird, I was free
But not free from my memories-
They flee,

The people I once knew,
Can't look me in the eye
They know what I did,
But so do I, because everyday I relive-
All the things that haunt me

Every day's a clock, with no hands
Each minute strikes the soul like a match
How am I supposed to relive-
Relearn to live

The cars and the people
The dog on the corner,
He barks like crazy
But nothing will be as crazy as the thought
Maybe I want to go back to-
What was once my living doom

I was told to get a job
But right now crossing the street-
Feels like my head will pop
All the honks and the shouts
Who knew the world could be so loud

In confinement it was quiet
Because a noise too loud,
Could trigger a guard,
Beating us until,
the lights went out-

Showers and meals were on a schedule,
Now I have to decide for myself
And still I manage
I cross the street-
Not trying to vanish-
In my internal defeat.
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