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Selena Jul 2018
I was always told girls don't cuss
they don't speak out of turn
they let the guy control the relationship
I was 5 when my mom told me to sit
Even straighter than the 180 degree line
I sat at
She said boys were scouting
And I was their prey
I didn't know
the way I dressed
Determined
If I was a ***** or not
Because we live
In a society
where **** shaming
Is encouraged
And how many girls
Did you **** last night
was an encouragement
But if I try and tell someone
I want attention
And I’m not really the victim
Because it was my fault
For dressing like I wanted it
My father told me not to argue with men
So the second time
You encased
Me in my nightmare
I didn’t try to fight
bruises linger from the first time
I felt worthless
you made me lose my worth
because my shoulder was
too provoking
the spark in my eyes gone
the emotion held on my face
non existent
as you pined me to the floor
you said
don't tell anyone
and my father taught me
to never argue with a man.
sage May 2018
though, so incredibly hard to say,
i think i killed myself today.

no, it wasn't the gun i thought it would be,
and it wasn't the pills i bought to be free.

it wasn't the candles or the gasoline,
it wasn't the running into a limousine.

i think it was me in my bed so late,
unwilling to behold my fate.

my eyes slipped shut and they haven't opened yet.
but that would be lucky, and i'm alive, i bet.

just wait until tomorrow, maybe we'll see
what i can really do to me.
i think i give up.
BR May 2018
Did you know that if you leave your car in your driveway,
With the keys in the ignition,
And someone sits down in the front seat like they own it, and drives away,
You are the one who is liable for theft?
They can drive that sucker to the coast.
They can burn the upholstery with their cigarettes. They can bring their friends into the back seat, and fill the compartments with their refuse, and ****, and they can leave it ruined in front of your house, or crushed into the median on the highway, or left in disconnected pieces under an overpass.
It will be called, “unauthorized use of a vehicle.”
It will be called a “misdemeanor.”
But you left the car running.
Weren't you kind of asking for it to happen?

They said,
This,
(Gesturing to the skirt which fell to two inches
above my kneecap),
Is like that.

If I walk outside of my house in jeans and a t-shirt, or a long dress with thin straps,
Or with my chin tilted out,
Or with long eyelashes,
Or with full lips,
Or with my hips swaying when I walk,

It's like I left the car running.

It's like I invited them to force their bodies into the front seat.
In their minds, or with their hands, or with their lips to anyone who would listen to them.

Little girls in leotards become like unlocked car doors;
Where men can burn their cigarettes into their skin,
Or stick their fingers in
In plain view of their parents,
And told to let it happen,
Quietly.
It isn't theft,
It's “a medical examination.”

What did they expect?
It isn't a theft.
She was just as guilty of negligence.
It isn't really a felony.
It's not THAT BAD. (Stop being so dramatic.)
It's the unauthorized use of your body, for a time, or one night,
or every time you close your eyes for the rest of your life,

Sure-

But you left the car running.
Tianna Jacquez Apr 2018
When I was five, I wanted to become an artist
When I was seven, a veterinarian
When I was eight, a doctor
When I was ten, an author
When I was eleven. I wanted to be dead
I wanted to face death
I wanted to dig a hole six feet underneath your footsteps
When I was twelve, I found a voice without the use of my voice
When I was thirteen, I wanted to become a poet
When I was fourteen, I shared my silent voice with others
I am now fifteen, almost sixteen. and I am anything I want to become
I am everything I want to be
I wrote this over a year ago and came back and edited it a little bit. I used to be a disaster and such a mess. I am proud of where I am now.
hayley robertson Feb 2018
Do you ever feel like if you breathe too loud during a quiet song
You won't be able to hear the music?

Are you ever afraid you might miss your soon-to-be favorite part of the song
All because you breathed at the wrong moment?

Well I'm lying here and I'm listening to the most beautiful song
And I can't concentrate on the song because I'm too busy concentrating on my breath

And do you ever feel like you go through life like this?
Like you want so much to say what you need to but you're afraid you'll ruin the most beautiful parts?

I'm guilty of this
Of sacrificing my breath to hear the most beautiful song
As you sing,
I hear
I love to do that,
O my dear!
Have heard songs
Of this world
For so long
Some plagued
My ears
While some did
Enchant them
I loved their
Experience
For if you can
Get amrita(liquid of immortality)
Not by mouth
But by ears
Won't you
O my dear?
So my ears
Were blessed
Serving as the passage
Of some thing so dear!
But more than
Anything else
Your song is dear
Why?
I knew you'd
Wonder
For this
Is song no mere
It is the expression
Of one so near
Yet
Looked upon
Differently
With such discrimination
He cannot
Communicate
As you and I do
But this doesn't mean
The end of creativity
In his mind
God has gifted him
A great vocal chord
To produce tunes
Parts of a
Mellifluous song!
Why won't he?
His mind grows slowly
He becomes hyperactive at times
But this is his life
He's not disabled
Born to carry the glory
Of being specially abled
So as the unknown boatman
Of the boat called life
Moves ahead in its journey
Let me listen
To his songs
Let his melodies enchant me
Oh he's nothing
Just one of
God's creations
With autism!
I stand by such souls
Who face sorrow
Being lost at times
Due to unnecessary
Furies and tides of the world
Plaguing and worsening
Their lives
Maxx Oct 2017
White whispers represent chains
Preventing change.
The action of
Inaction,
Perpetuating that which we
Deny.
The sun of sin shining
Dimly through
The smog of society
Seen
By the few,
Not nearly enough.
“All lives matter”
Conveniently,
Fictitious feelings for a ‘flag’
Feigning support for
Social inequalities.
Politically correct where it
Counts –
Beyond the front door,
Not behind.
News headlines turn
Silent dissenting into
Violent lamenting.
Willful ignorance is
Deliberate destruction.
The true tragedy,
Behind.
Closed.
Doors.
My experience with racism as a white male living in a gentrifying North Philadelphia neighborhood
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