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Lance Remir May 28
If I am not rage, then what am I?

I tried love, trust, patience, empathy

They were accepted out of courtesy

But discarded like an inconvenience

If I am not anger, then what am I?

I tried so very hard, so much time

Just to receive little effort and no time

Just to be abandoned and misled

If I am not anger, nor am I rage itself

Then I am the pain you gave to me
Everly Rush May 20
oh yay,
it’s happening again.
nature’s monthly gift,
delivered straight to my underwear
like a subscription box from hell.
no tracking number.
no warning.
just splat!
hope you weren’t planning on dignity today.
but it’s okay.

because this is beautiful.
this is womanhood.
this is the magical time
where your organs weep
and everyone tells you to smile through it.

and the best part?
it’s totally normal!
you know, just a causal internal bleeding event
that lasts 5 to 7 working days.

love that journey for me.

meanwhile—
boys get to walk around
untouched,
unpunched,
completely unaware that their insides
aren’t staging a revolution once a month.
“oh, i stubbed my toe!”
congrats, jason.
try bleeding from places you don’t talk about in science class
and still showing up to algebra.

and let’s not forget
the experts
the boys in gym class
who say “ew” at a pad
like it’s cursed.
buddy, you can’t even make eye contact with a ******
without flinching like it’s a hand grenade.

but sure,
go off.
tell me how strong you are
because you can bench 120
while i’m surviving a bloodbath
with a smile and a midterm.

also—
shoutout to the marketing team
that decided to name pads like
“whisper”
and “cloud comfort.”
what i need is something called
“armour of god”
or “crime scene control.”

but no,
let’s keep pretending
this is sacred.
let’s keep painting it pink
and telling girls
“you’re a woman now.”

oh, am i?
cool.
then where’s my crown?
where’s my painkiller budget?
where’s the week off from school
for bleeding and not burning the building down?

because if men bled once a month?
we’d have national holidays.
paid leave.
parades.
blood themed energy drinks.

but me?
i get called “dramatic.”
for bleeding.
from inside.

so yeah,
super fun being a girl.
five stars.
would recommend.
can’t wait to do it again
next month.
Cadmus May 15
⛈️

When she left,
she left like rain,
Soft regret,
a touch of pain.

A fleeting storm
you live right through,
A wound, the light
can filter through.

Then she walked through someone’s door,
She shook the walls,
she split the floor.

What seemed to him like gentle air
Became a firestorm
unaware.
A woman broken is not a woman ended. She leaves as a whisper, but pain reforges her into something untamed. What once loved gently can return with teeth. This is not vengeance… it’s evolution.
I want this to end
please everything just stop!
I'm begging you oh! God
i can't deal with this

I want to cut myself so deep that all i  become is bone
I want to smash my head against the wall
make paintings with my blood
PLEASE STOP!

You tell me that you're concerned
but then why do you ignore me
like a pig on a street
is that what you think of me?

I'm done trying
My legs broken from carrying this pain
my windpipe punctured by the comments you make
My skin crimson form the cuts i create

I get hooked with a therapist
but instead of help ,all they blab is *******
that makes me question to my broken core
Am I going mad?

Can you ******* shut up
all i want is to be alone
all i want to be is held
by someone who loves me unconditionally

you say your love is pure
but is it? you manipulate me
I love you, but do you love me?
You made me question everything

Your ******* homophobic mindset,
its so revolting , I feel ashamed to be your son
You say no matter what happpens you are my son
but the very next second you spill your guts

I'm sorry i disappoint you constantly
I'm sorry, I bleed
I'm sorry, I'm weak
I'm sorry, would you ever forgive me?
A rage poem , A desperate cry for help. This is written in a mooment of intense emotion and a form of self expression and NOT A THREAT
Lynn May 2
How am I?
How am I?
I am oppressed.
Here, I am not free
Or heard
Or respected.
Here, I am told what to do with my own body.

And I can’t help but wonder—
How dare they?
How dare they force me into a piece of cloth,
One they know I will disregard?
How dare they back me into a corner
And wrap me in a headscarf?
How dare they oppress me for my freedom
And cover me as if that's the answer?

Why punish the victim,
When that won’t stop the victor?
Why shun the abused
While glorifying the abuser?

How dare they expect me to listen—
How dare they,
When I have a fire that can’t be put out
Not even by my blood and tears.
Wrote this while fuming over what an uncle told me + something my parents said earlier lol
Mariah May 1
No matter what I find
I'm so glad I chose to hide
Instead of doning a disguise

I waited until I could find
A place that wasn't just in my mind
To trust myself to be alive

I'm so proud to be in a place
To no longer believe it when they say
I was born a certain way

The rage
It comes from a true place
My heart of hearts true faith
I refuse to replace
With self hatred
For their own sake

Instead of shaving down
The life I've built around
The one that I burnt down

I'll protect it with that same rage
You told me was my worst mistake

And when you see me face to face
with regret
I'll **** doubt instead
It takes time.
Mariah Apr 29
I hate myself
But that's okay
I'll like myself better
Another day

I don't have to hope
I know
With me
That's just how it goes

Just like a stray
I won't always show my face

Give it time
I'll be fine

I know my ways
It always pays
To give me space
It's best to let me go-
at my own pace

I'll come back if it's right
If it's worth the fight

I know my wobbly heart
Would pick it apart
Trying to find the art

If it's worth it
It will hard

And maybe if I'm lucky
It might leave a you shaped scar
Told you I wasn’t okay, didn’t I?
Eyes filled with dread.
Hatred for life.

Told you I was tired, didn’t I?
Head screaming,
telling me to die.

Waving.
Begging.
Hoping someone would notice—
the pain of living a life I didn’t even want.

But you didn’t see me.

Hey —
see me now.
Did you ******* see me?
Or was I still invisible?

Hey —
listen to me now.
Did you ******* listen to me?
Then why did I still feel unheard?

It’s okay now.
Silence speaks louder than ever—
now that I’m in a casket.

It’s okay now.
Why do you mourn me,
when I died
because of your silence?
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