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Faith Nov 2018
No
The way he acts
It makes me scared
The way he looks
At us, it makes me nervous
The way he talks
Makes me sick
The way he moves
Horrifies me
The way he is
Is not the way it should be
:(
Nicholas Booth Nov 2018
iLL
Sick I'm ****
I mean **** I'm sick

See I didn't mean to blind you
can you put that behind you?

Ill I'm ****
I mean **** I'm ill

Now you're starting to blame me
listing all the reasons you hate me

But you're ******* sick too
I mean you're a sick **** too

There is no reason you had to do me like that

I mean do me like this
now I see my therapist

three times a week
take pills to sleep

record what I eat
stand on my own two feet

I'm getting better now
so I can be the one to take a bow
Number 2
Jiya Nov 2018
Listening to Christmas song in the early hours of the morning.
Don't ask why as I myself have no clue.
I often despise their catchy tunes, yet tonight they are appealing.
Whilst I'm holding back salty tears, sleep is yet to consume me.
There's little chance it ever will.
I've had five cups of coffee today, yet I know that doesn't affect me.
My cycle is already disrupted and unhealthy.
A teenager in the midst of development.
I shall be waking in six hours.
It's the weekend.
Yet if my eyes are open before then, don't be surprised.
It's unpredictable.
It's self-diagnosed.
It's been here for over a month.
It is seldom taken seriously.

My fellow insomniacs would know.
This poem I wrote at two in the morning. For the past month, slightly longer even, I've had insomnia. It takes me hours of laying wide awake staring at the wall for me to fall asleep. I wake up multiple times a night and extremely tired in the morning. I lose focus at school, especially in the afternoon. I constantly feel in a state of sadness, frustration or anger and I just really needed to express my feelings. So... thanks for reading and understanding :)
Julia Gorrie Nov 2018
I still feel your hands on my body.
I still hear your words.
I still smell your scent.
I still feel as helpless as I did 6 years ago.

The world is evil.
No lesson taught about it.
No way to prevent it.
"Boys will be boys"
No second thoughts about it.

"No wonder, your skirt is too short"
"What were you wearing?"
"Why didn't you scream louder?"
"Why didn't you fight harder?"

Almost every woman I have met
Has had their bodies stained and tossed to the side,
Almost every woman I've met still is kept up at night,
And like myself,
When they are sobbing in their bathtub,
They wonder "why is this world so cruel to us?"
"If God is a man, does he think it's okay too?"
And as they are held captive by the unfair burden of his filthy sins,

they scrub their skin, desperate to wash his touch away.
I have known so many who have been through assult. It needs to be talked about more. Something needs to change. Also, a disclaimer, I am not saying that all men are like this and they can be assulted as well. It is messed up either way, please don't think I am not aware of that. Just writing from the heart and experience. Thank you.
Thorns Nov 2018
When he looks at me like that it's torture
It's that kind of look like you can never be with me
Torture
It's my own personal hell
I'm left there suffering
He loves it when I'm hurt
It amuses that sick *******
He loved me once and dealt with this too
But not as bad
This is torture
Please end my suffering
End his sick happiness
Torture
Torture...
Pétra Hexter Nov 2018
War; absolute
This will be my macadam into re-assemblage
For if I'm not on edge, I'm taking up too much precious space
What wickedness lies beneath the surface of the skin?
I should know this place better than anyone
But my landscape has become mercurial
Ever changing, impossible to map
I am forced to navigate its pitfalls in ever complicating ways
It has become a desolate place
I alone should rule here, my sovereignty unquestioned
Yet I've become content to be complacent, and have allowed a sickly intruder to slip past my walls
They infect, demoralize: turn my skin to stone
They must be expunged; cut out, snipped from the healthy flesh like a cancer
As one removes a gangrenous foot to save the leg
Though my tools at the moment are blunt, I sharpen them daily with the whetstone afforded to me
They will not continue to expel bile into the bloodstream for long
My strength returns by the hour
They know this, and they tremble
I am the goddess to whom this altar is devoted
I am righteous fury, come to cleanse this blight with holy fire and flood
The war drums sound as the gate is lifted

The iron bell tolls -- judgement day cometh
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