Belle Jun 4
i live in the past as if its home
it is disgusting
it causes me pain because
every corner
or room
the backyard
another memory creeps up
and im pathetic
it makes me uncapable
unlovable
uncomfortable
i remember each
sound
touch
voice
reminds me of each
person screaming
sexual assault
malicious predator
i live in the past as if im stuck there
and i am
They say you can't fall anymore than Rock Bottom
But I've painfully crashed a thousand times, and
melted into the Earth's Core; filling the cracks
With liquefied remains of what I became...a failure.

My broken pieces caught in alluring lies
and tangled Bed Sheets

Rock Bottom is every bed
A boy has invited me in
Because I could not accept
God's knock on my chest.

Rock Bottom is every cigarette
I've shakenly put between my lips
Because I could not let
God's words fill me.

Rock Bottom is each step away
from my Body
Because my soul-my remains
Are left alone above someone's covers.

My soul is locked away in a room
I can never return to.
It's been captured in his bed.
So I fill myself with broken glass
hoping the reflection of what once was
shines through.

I drown myself in self-deprecation
Praying that a form of baptism
Will return my soul to me...

But it wont.
Not until I open my chest,
Not until I fill my lungs
with scripture.

My soul was captured
Because God told me
Who the Devil was...
Charismatic, body like a snake, and
Eyes filled with love...maybe lust?

But the thought of happiness captivated me
And comfort was found in his arms...
I ignored God- calling him a fool.

Now, I must heal and find my soul
Because I didn't listen the first time.

I open my chest
My lips spill with alcohol soaked apologizes
And He still holds me,
Cares for me,
He has not Forsaken me...
like I had Forsaken myself.
Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
Veronika Apr 20
Ever since I was 6 I got told to run from unknown men,
That they weren't my parents friends, or anything else they'd tell me.
That if one ever meets me on the street, to run as fast and as far as my legs can take me
That I should always listen to my parents’ wise words
Because those words would keep those men from ever catching up


Ever since I was 6 I was sheltered from these men
But now I’m 15 and all I can hear are the unwanted catcalls ( whistle )
But my friend reasures me that's just their way of saying I’m pretty
But sometimes I feel like that's just a lie
Because my mama always told me that a wolf whistle usually means more than just “you’re pretty”


Ever since I was 6 these men never caught up to me
Now I’m 16 and they finally did
Now I wasn't thinking straight, I went against everything my mother taught me
Now I was older,  I didn't see them as a threat but they were
Because they still did EVERY SINGLE thing my mother said they would


I wish every night that none of this had happened
That these men stopped touching me, the second I said stop
That my words spoke louder that what I was wearing that night
That I could fall asleep without seeing these men in my nightmares
That people would never lay there hands on anyone, without consent



I wish every night that none of this had happened
But those men who reeked of scotch and brandy couldn't keep their hands to themselves
But my cry for help was never heard
But my pleading for them to stop went through one ear & out the other
But all my wishes never came true


I wish everynight that none of this had happened
Now I cry myself to sleep every night instead of counting sheep
Now I sit silently in the corner of my room
Now the only thing I feel is violated
Now I never want to leave my house again.


All I want to do now is hide myself.
Now that I feel that I have nothing better to do.
Now that I fear to do anything better then hide.
Now that Im scared to walk through the streets, to the bus stop or the convenience store.
Now that I’m scared of what man might be ready to pounce like a panther on me next.


But hey I’m not the only one who experienced this
82% is the percentage of those in Canada under 18 who experience SA who are girls.
And I am apart of that percent.
I’m just like them and they’re just like her.
1 in every 3 people is the ratio of canadians who understand what it means to give consent in a sexual situation  


96, 97, 98, every 98 seconds an american is sexually assaulted
6, 7, 8, and every 8 minutes that victim is a child
In kindergarten we learn a very valuable lesson, to keep our hands to ourselves.
Throughout grade school we remember this lesson,
But why do we forget it the second we step out into the real world?

So now as I lay on my teal bed sheets I think,
How did little boys poking me when I was 6 go to men provoking me?
Should I ever tell a single soul what happened that night?
How was I not clear enough when I shouated for them to stop?
And when will peoples identity not be treated as objects?
Here’s a slam poem I had to write on a social justice topic for class ( none of this happened to me and if it has happened to you please report it )
Hillary B Apr 10
like I was there in your bed
I had agreed to be there
you asked if you could do one thing
I said yes
you did, and then started on another
you didn't ask
I didn't say no
It wasn't far from what I had initially agreed upon
but you didn't ask
I didn't feel like I could say no
ronnie b Mar 23
it's been years now
but it's because of you
that i don't think i'll ever
look at potential partners
the same way
again
ronnie b Mar 23
i remember
the breeze on my skin
and the texture of the blanket
i remember
letting you in
because i couldn’t say no
i remember
feeling disgusted
and asking myself what i was thinking
i remember
finding out the word for it
a word i had already known
a word i didn’t know i could apply to this
i remember
writing my first words about this
scared to share my pain
i remember
the first time i lifted my head
and said “me too”
i remember
the first time i told someone
scared that they’d think less of me
and now
i am beginning to come to terms
with what happened to me
and soon
i will remember
all of this
and i won’t panic or shut down
Count your sins
One, two, three,
Revisit the hurt
That you caused to me

Steer your thoughts in my direction
Look back
Are you afraid
Of your own reflection?

Are you afraid of what you’ll see
The ghosts and terrors that are haunting me?

Face your fears, I’ve faced mine
A hundred million thousand times

You held me down, you were a person of trust
You should not be forgiven
But punished, you must

Look back on your actions
May they fill you with dread
Yes it’s true
We all wish you were dead

Hang your noose high  
Off the highest tree
String yourself up
Do this for me

For this is your penance
For the crime you have done
You say you are a victim
But I’m the true one

For what I have lost
I will never get back
Something everyone had
But something I lack

I look at myself
What was I then?
Was I merely a tool
To be used by men?

I will smash that mirror
No! I am my own!
I am no longer a tool
For I have grown!

Bigger and stronger
I have fought for my life
I’m now an adult
I’m someone’s wife

My destiny is my own
I’ll create my own way
I’ll tell you what I think
When we meet some day

You’ll get an ear full
Full of fire and wit
You will deny deny deny
But we both know you did it

Now hang you head
In utter disgrace
You are an embarrassment to us
You must leave this place

We don’t want you here
You wasted your chance
To have a normal family
When you shoved your hand in my pants

I did not fight
I did not scream
But I was a child
Now it seems like a dream

Children cannot consent
This you knew
Stop pretending
That you’re a victim too!

You knew what you did
We all trusted you
Sorry I’m not lying
I only said what was true

When you held me down
Defiled my name
Laughing and smiling
Now my whole life is stained

The games are over now
Now the battle will start
Look into my eyes, tell me
Do you really have a heart?

The heart of a father?
A husband or friend?
A so called victim
Anyone would defend?

You say it is lies
I make it a big deal
Shut the fuck up
Beg for forgiveness and kneel

Kneel on the ground
Cry at my feet
Beg for forgiveness
I’ll make it short and sweet

As I tell you I know
Of all you have done
You truly really are
The evil one

Collect your lies
Your thoughts and deceit
Get the fuck out of here!
You coward, retreat!

You are not welcome back
Though you think you may be
In reality few want to see you
They know what you did to me

Why don’t you face me?
Face to face and hand to hand
Are you worried
That I’ll prove to be more then a man?

I’ve lived more hardship
Then you could ever explain
It hardened and aged me
No, it brings me no shame

For now I am older
In my thoughts, in my heart
There are hot embers within me
Get back, a fire may start!

You won’t face me at all
You know I will burn you
Burn your wicked flesh and bones
Down to the last sinew

You won’t make it if you fight me
This you know to be true
You will think you are fighting me

But in the end
It is YOU
c Mar 9
i can't
i won't
answer
this time

                    i clasp
                    my legs,
                    holdfast
                    the line

maybe
You
will just
disappear

                    as i
                    cocoon
                    and writhe
                    in fear

--
c
c Mar 5
The only other girl at the party
is ranting about feminism.
The audience: a sea of rape jokes and snapbacks
and styrofoam cups and me.
They gawk at her mouth like it is a drain
clogged with too many opinions.
I shoot her an empathetic glance
and say nothing. This house is for
wallpaper women. What good
is wallpaper that speaks?
I want to stand up, but if I do,
whose coffee table silence
will these boys rest their feet on?

These boys…
I want to stand up, but if I do,
what if someone takes my spot?
I want to stand up, but if I do,
what if everyone notices I’ve been
sitting this whole time? I am ashamed
of keeping my feminism in my pocket
until it is convenient not to, like at poetry
slams or woman studies classes.
There are days I want people to like me
more than I want to change the world.
Once I forgave a predator because
I was afraid to start drama in our friend group
two weeks later he assaulted someone else.
I’m still carrying the guilt in my purse.

There are days I forget we had to invent
nail polish to change color in drugged
drinks and apps to virtually walk us home
and lipstick shaped mace and underwear designed to prevent rape.

Once a man behind me at an escalator
shoved his hand up my skirt
from behind and no one around me
said anything,
so I didn’t say anything.
Because I didn’t wanna make a scene.

Once an adult man made a necklace
out of his hands for me and
I still wake up in hot sweats
haunted with images of the hurt
of girls he assaulted after I didn’t report,
all younger than me.

How am I to forgive myself for doing
nothing in the mouth of trauma?
Is silence not an active violence too?

Once, I told a boy I was powerful
and he told me to mind my own business.

Once, a boy accused me of practicing
misandry. “You think you can take
over the world?” And I said “No,
I just want to see it. I just need
to know it is there for someone.”

Once, my dad informed me sexism
is dead and reminded me to always
carry pepper spray in the same breath.
We accept this state of constant fear
as just another component of being a girl.
We text each other when we get home
safe and it does not occur to us that
not all of our guy friends have to do the same.
You could literally saw a woman in half
and it would still be called a magic trick.
Wouldn’t it?
That’s why you invited us here,
isn’t it? Because there is no show
without a beautiful assistant?
We are surrounded by boys who hang up
our naked posters and fantasize
about choking us and watch movies that
we get murdered in. We are the daughters
of men who warned us about the news
and the missing girls on the milk carton
and the sharp edge of the world.
They begged us to be careful. To be safe.
Then told our brothers to go out and play.
Credits to Blythe Baird.

Blythe Baird is an affluent, rising young slam/spoken word poet from Minnesota. She has a book out already, "Give Me A God I Can Relate To" and is making gains in the world of poetry. Regularly performs with Button Poetry. You can find the performance of "Pocket-Sized Feminism" on Youtube. Inspiring and firey on the mic! Check this one out.
Dia Mar 5
Its been four years, night terror, more details, night terror, depression, night terror, it feels all my fault, night terror, no one will believe you, night terror,  incident  anniversary, night terror, more details revealed, night terror, you deserved it, night terror, I will never heal, night terror, loose a friend, night terror,  paralysis, night terror, no one believes me, night terror, self sabotage, night terror, harm, night terror repeat..
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