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all the **** from your mouth that you thought was inspiring
slowly broke me down until my hope was expiring
never opened my mouth to come back with inquiries
just kept my head down and wrote my thoughts in a diary
and you read it, pathetic,
invading my privacy
called me out for feigning sadness and my ‘bogus’ anxiety
cause “im a better dad than mine so shut up and be quiet kid”
“you’re lucky im the head of this dysfunctional dynasty”
well congratulations dad, you’ve earned notoriety
for forcing my respect in the form of compliancy
and disbelieving science and the facts of psychiatry
so i ran away from home to join the freaks of society
where else could i escape from your emotional piracy?
May Oct 2020
I remember lying on my bed late at night
The images of that.. survey
tattooed behind my eyelids

I remember having to check off the boxes that apply
But how can you apply a label to the deep down feeling of being bullied
How can you label the sleepless nights and tempest-tossed days,
Of lying in bed wondering when the world will change

When you want to make a difference
But it’s hard
Because people won't listen

When innocence is dressed as protection
The lines get fuzzy
Because I can remember times when my age cost me my innocence
And my innocence cost me my age

"The resources that we provide
The time that has been generously set aside
You need to pick a side"
But there are too many unanswered questions about this list of what feels like right and wrong answers

But it's okay, because there’s an “all of the above" option

The messages students are sending out are being ignored
We talk to the janitor, instead of the head of the school board
When the teacher who said they'd to help you decides to retire
We are tired

This form is supposed to help us
But it has formed into an endless hole of anger and confusion
We are tired of being told that we are safe when our safety seems to be disguised as a Google questionnaire.

So I lay on my bed for a little while longer
And thought of this poem
To all the girls and the boys
And everyone in between
Who’s ever struggled with self-worth
And even self-esteem
We are in this together
We can work to be better
So we won’t have to lay in bed,
wondering when the questions won’t make us question our inherent value

Because we are worth something
Something more than what we know
More than hair, makeup, piercings and clothes
This is some progress, a movement, a fight that can grow
And hopefully one day... our identities can show
And all of this can start by hanging up a rainbow :)
I performed this slam poem at a Day Of Silence event held by my school. The week before, I had been asked to complete a survey, that would "anonymously inform faculty about LGBTQ discrimination in the school system"
May Oct 2020
The cards... are stacked... against me.

I’m a young woman
who stands at just 4’8
I’ve been told not to self-deprecate
and that I should appreciate what I have
But it’s kinda hard to obfuscate that the cards are stacked against me

I was adopted from China when I was two,
I could barely name my colors, red, yellow and blue
but all too soon I knew
that the cards were stacked against me

So I pursue an education,
Looking for an overdue explanation,
Some form of information
as to who stacked all these cards against me?

And I find that the system,
That prides its rhyme and rhythm,
Well they hide a list of victims
and so they decided they’ll stack the cards against me

Being bi,
and being not-so-shy,
and seeing colors in vibrance, from the grass to the sky
I'm not so good at lying
but it won't make a difference,
it's enough of a hindrance,
that the cards are stacked against me

So I'll be careful to lock my car,
And not walk too far,
I'll sit pretty and eat saffron and caviar,
But I won't forget that I can’t even wish on a shooting star
To shift the tables
and abandoned the labels
because not even in Aesop's fables
is there a time when the cards aren’t stacked against me

My life like a delicate card house resting on a cable
I'm a little unstable
But now the cards are spread out on the table
I turn one over, and it’s an ace of spades
And it feels like all the barricades
That had locked me in this cage
For ages
slowly start to evaporate.
And I wonder if maybe I had exaggerated
And this mindset my mind had created
Had been stated the wrong way,
And I had hated myself for unrelated reasons
and weight could finally be lifted off my shoulders

These shoulders that had carried the world
All of its boulders and sticks and secret hidden pearls,
And it feels like maybe just being a girl
doesn’t mean I can’t value my own safety
And drive a Mercedes
and be a nice lady
until I'm old and achy
and even then ill will remember

That just because it feels like the cards are against you
Doesn’t mean you’re worries aren’t real or your feelings aren't valid
It’s not easy, this world that we live in
But given, that the cards are dealt randomly
A bad hand does not land you so deeply in the sand
That you shouldn't get up each day
and try to understand,
That the card dealers are people too

They have families and homes
and muscles and bones
They bleed the same blood
And need the same love
That all humans work for

And maybe they were born with a stack piled high
Or two’s and four's and jacks and nines
And maybe they felt like if they turned a blind eye
And became a card dealer,
they wouldn't have to deal with the fact that their pile is against them too

So the next time you feel like your life isn't good enough
Don't let your mind or the dealers lie or call you bluff,
Spread the cards on the table
and one by one you'll be able,
To turn them over and be a little more stable
Because the cards are stacked against all of us
until we remove the number and suit labels
The world isn't set up for me to have an easy life. But that just means the world is kind of messed up- it's not my fault at all.
Caitlin Roberts Sep 2020
Wake up ,
Go to school ,
Study ,

Heather has a party this weekend ,
"Did you get invited?"
"Oh nevermind"

Late nights
Where did I go wrong?

Endless tears and
I don't cares,
But it hurts

The 'go to'
But never the

Carelessly ,
The last choice ,
That "friend"

Like a boy ?
He's to good for you,

Good at a sport ?
I don't think so ,
Try again

Slam poetry.
Sh May 2020
Blood is thicker than water.

I'm nine years old and my mother had sighed us both up for a dieting course.

At eighteen I still see how interchangeable fatness and ugliness are to her.

I still have to stop myself from thinking of skipping meals after I ate "too much".

Clinging to the fear of the slippery ***** that serves as my only guard.

I see it in my friends too,
comforted by their opposition for what my mother had embraced like gospal for the helpless fools.

Blood is thicker than water.

I like the hairs on my body.
The short and soft strands that cover my legs, blonde and black and all too

Removing them leaves my legs red and *****-*****- pickling for days but-

My sister laughs through a wrinkled nose,
My cousin tells stories, horrified, of women like me,
Mother says it's unhygienic and would not let me leave the house like this.

I haven't worn shorts in years.

But my friends' confident '*******' to everyone who isn't them,
who dares control their bodies and shame them into pain or hiding,

makes me feel like one day I might wear them again.

Blood is thicker than water,

I find it hard to talk to people.
The thought of discussing anything more than trivial matters makes my lunges heavy in my chest.

Talking to my parents- a heavy led filling what seem less and less like lungs with every passing second.

Talking to my friends- the heaviness doesn't always go away, but the weight doesn't get harder to bear.

I heard my mother tell a friend how her kids talk to her about everything.

A bitter laugh never tasted so much as the sea.

Blood is thicker than water,

Since I can remember myself, I never wanted kids.
Took me years so unveil why.

The dismissal cut deep when Mother assumed she knew me better than I do, a cruel arrogance for what she must only consider her property.
'You'll change your mind and give me grandchildren'

A payment for my life-
"Interest" she calls it.

Blood is thicker than water,

When I came out to you, dear parents, you once again ignored me

as if I hadn't tortured myself enough,

as if it hadn't taken me years trying to accept myself before you turned your back on me with cruel dismissal.

As if I don't still struggle.

All I have left is to fall back on my friends' support again,

being caught in their loving embrace without ever asking to.

They say you can't choose your family but-

the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.
Warning- references eating disorders.
This is slam poetry and thus sounds better when read out loud (or at least with a passionate inside voice 😂)
Nick Acosta May 2020
Ice cream sandwiches require refrigeration
Toads on frogs is a swamp violation
I cry out when I peel potatoes
Because they dont wanna be in my moms famous guac

I shout at sand for getting so heated
Ender Dragon eggs cannot be beaten
The size of spiders is all in your head
They're already so ****** about a botched interview

They can't feed their spider babies and mama spider will bite
This just goes to show
You shouldn't take loans from empathetic toasters
The results will surely shock you
I feel bad when I tear down my posters
Their eyes swell with disappointment
I've gotta bounce to my doctors appointment
They say it's all in my head but to me its all I can see

I shout at sand for getting so heated
Ender Dragon eggs cannot be beaten
The size of spiders is all in your head
They're already so ****** about a botched interview

I get sad cuz I lack the permits
To allow beavers to build dams for hermits
Their invasive but so friendly
I feel bad when I eat beans
The results silent but deadly
I will ski by any means
As long as babies go goo goo

My brain glues me to the lou
Because I lose my signal if I move
I must continue my crusade to leave my mark on this bathroom stall
So all will know that someone doesn't care for the outcomes of authorities
Overwhelmed by the silent majority

Activate the rings
Activate the rings
Master Chef must Activate the onion rings

Activate the rings
Activate the rings
Master chef must activate the onion rings

I get sad cuz I lack the permits
To allow beavers to build dams for hermits
Their invasive but so friendly
I feel bad when I eat beans
The results silent but deadly
I will ski by any means
As long as babies go goo goo

Ice cream sandwiches require refrigeration
Toads on frogs is a swamp violation
I cry out when I peel potatoes
Because they dont wanna be in my moms famous guac

The barbecue is great but I lack potatoes
They may be present but their hearts lie vacant

I regret leaving behind my Lucky costers
Their presence was the essence to a good drink
All my cars are clichè like protestors on cake
I'm so lost but my bros are the link
My favorite position is shutes and ladders
Shut the **** up lizard man you wanna bake?

What is real
What is wrong
I cant feel my chest when I play ping long
I'm so stupid but youre a ****** ding ****
Bless this Mess
basil Apr 2020
slam poetry
slam poetry, like the way i can't get out of bed in the morning,
as in
showering is too difficult a task to accomplish, because
you're too tired after long nights of tossing and turning,
because every time you go to get undressed,
you remember.

slam poetry, like the way the noose went around his neck
wrapping tightly until the silence called his name
while his mother held him and cried

slam poetry, like the way i cried
when they told me the news no child wants to hear
that my daddy's heart stopped, and they couldn't bring him back

slam poetry, like the way i said "i love you"
as in
every part of you reminded me of a beautiful haiku
one i could never write

slam poetry, like the way i slam my head into my pillow
after school every day
screaming to drown out everything they've said to me
like the way i slam my door when i'm angry
because the only thing i know
is noise

slam poetry, like the way your words hurt me

slam poetry like the way i don't know how to write a poem

slam poetry, like the way
i'll never feel whole
Sam Tate Feb 2020
Jack wakes up in a panic, he’s manic.

He convulses on the bed,

His arms swinging in defensive manoeuvres,

Struggling against violent illusions in the night.

He’s tired, exhausted.

The nightmares had come again

And laid their cold grip on his skin

And now he has to begin again to forget.

His bed’s soaked in sweat,

His head’s pounding and drowning in the sounds he feels surrounding him.  

But there’s only silence.

He shakes his head

And tries to dispel the blaring sirens

And the flashing in the back of his eyes  

But the light and sound won’t quit.

He reaches for the tabletop to his side

And grabs a bottle empty of a bottle top  

And downs it.

The sharp taste of cheap whisky

Burns his throat and helps to dull the conflict in his head. If only for a moment.

Taking a look around  

He notices

He’s naked.  

The clothes he slept in

Were swept off in the night

And thrown to the side.

His white skin is bruised and ******

Marked by the copper claws  

Of the nightmare spawn  

Trying to break through his form

And escape.

But the dead skin and red rings around his fingers tell a different story  

Of blood and gore  

But not from the paranormal  

But more of an internal war.

See, Jack’s not sure what’s real.

He can’t quite distinguish the line between fiction and fact.  

He sees it every morning like a crack running down his mirror separating his heart from his head.  

But when he reaches out and tries to touch it  

The green slithers of reflection withhold any consolation.  

The jagged glass pierces his skin  

And he bleeds.

He bleeds the way his mum used to sing whilst she rocked him to sleep.

He bleeds the ink from the love letters he wrote to the girl who he gave his first kiss.

He bleeds the tears that gushed from his eyes when she gave his first kiss away with a laugh.

You can see it, dripping down his palms

And painting the floor  

In a mosaic of blood.

Each panel a Scarlett red petal  

Coming together to form  

A twisting flower

Sprouting out from the ground and wrapping its vines around his legs,

Trapping him in this  


His head’s not right.

There’s something twisted in the cables

That’s left him unable to think.

He can’t see the world like everyone else;

In his head, it’s a game

But the pieces don’t match up

And the board is aflame

And it doesn’t ******* matter

Cause everyone’s cheating anyway.

So, there he stands,

In front of the mirror,

With the ground creeping up his legs

And slowly dragging him down.

His weight teetering  

On the line of intrusive light  

Refracting off the silver glass

And turning the cuts and scars into gold.

Around him,

Flowers are bursting out of the floor

And cradling every inch of his skin

In a massacre of colours.

For a second, his body tenses,

And then relaxes into the aroma of Spring.

He glances back towards the mirror

And can no longer see himself.

He has been encompassed in a coffin of life.
alexis hill Jan 2020
no one said it was easy
you create the path
spread the base on
it’s foundation
you lay the map

it’s the grapes of wrath
life got a ghastly grasp
seasoned in your present
like your soul is wrapped

i pack the first for last
i muled some dimes and sacks
intricate in so much evil like
they like their snacks

i’m sober now
so that’s all in the past
but i slaved for many years
i broke its back

sedated lids
sealed like permanent naps
but awake with rage
anxiety pulsating heart attacks

snaps for the poetry that
kept me from going mad
claps for the music
that kept me from crying over dad

i work and slave just
to pay the tax
i try to keep one face on
so i can ditch the mask

i haven’t written in a while
i thought i lost my raps
but i guess some things
in life just always last
first time i’ve been sober in a while. i was always so worried i lost my creativity. and i’m glad to say i still got it.
Rowan Jan 2020
can't sleep

i'm overcome by monsters, dark and vicious, ready for a feast

           i can see them coming after me if i close my eyes for too long

they're strong, sadistic, twisted clawing towards me

           among them are shadows with claws, open jaws

some are people though, eyes full of anger and hunger
      smiles large and disturbing
           i see my father, i see the boogeyman i hid from as a child

i see
                                ­       Nothing

it always stops right before they reach me

               shaking, afraid, tired
                      Oh so very tired

i've wrapped myself so tightly in blankets to stop the shaking but it does nothing

               i've resorted to sleeping with a light, trying with all my might to ignore the shadows

they dance and turn, howl and cackle, gaze and smile, beckon me to join them

                      i am scared
                                   ­                   i am lost

                                                           ­                           i am alone

why can't i find home, i know the address

         know what it looks like but my maps don't lead me there

               it leads me through a hell unknown

tell me when does it end?

           because i'm tired of this game and just want some comfort

before i can no longer breathe
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