Every punch, every bruise
Every kiss, every tear
I love you
The blood stains
The migraines
I can't stand it
But I love you
Maybe pain is my weakness
Maybe you're trying to help
Maybe I'm only imagining
This entire mental hell
I'm done fighting for freedom
I'm done begging for help
In some twisted way
This is beautiful
This is colorful
Others look at me and say
This is sad
I don't care
I love you
I reflect on my actions
I only ponder the abuse
You're drunk again
I run and hide
How dare I call this love
To be honest
I hate you
You took it all away
Everything
My family
My life
My safety
My sanity
But when the dust settles
And the noise is gone
You're still here
Holding me in your arms
As I cry like a child
Stitching my cuts
As I bleed
In some sick way
I love you

Some people say love is the most extravagant feeling in the world

People in bad situations would probably disagree

People domestically abused, and everyone unconcerned

They really hope one day they can just be free

But can they?

No hope, no help, nobody to guide them out

The feelings of, anger, sorrow and, betray

Even when out of these situations there is still doubt

I hope the pain goes away, but that’s something I simply can’t control

You can't rule me like a ******* gaming console

You stole everything from me

My, laughter, love and smile

Things I won't have back for a long while

You will rise again

You have been beaten down

You have been abused

You have been torn down

You have been told you were nothing

You have been told you can’t do it

You are plagued by residuals

You are tormented by demons

You are tortured by nightmares

You are attacked by PTSD daily

You are reminded of it all by your scares

You are so tired of it all

Yet you survived all of it

You continue to live each day

You continue to smile

You continue to thrive

You continue to overcome

You continue to be strong

You continue to rise

© Seductive Poetry

Spoken Word Version :: https://youtu.be/xGzGQ-8tSGM

I'm reading over the notes
that my therapist jotted down
during one of our first sessions.

there is so much trauma
and so many diagnoses.

my therapist says that
I'm not alone, and that
so many people know
a similar type of pain.



she's right. I'm not alone,
because I'm not the only
person to have a therapist

and because I'm not the first
person to be diagnosed
with these conditions

and because right now,
at this very second,

there is someone who
is reading this poem and
relating to these words.



sometimes this thought
is upsetting to me.

it depresses me to think
that other children were
raised by parents who
were like my parents,

and that they've faced
the same type of pain.



other times, this thought
is oddly comforting.

it hurts to think about
the children who grew up
the same way that I did

but it also calms me
to know that there
are other people
who are just like me,



because that means
there are people who
have survived this.

that means that
this is survivable,

and that even if I
sometimes doubt it,

it is possible to thrive.

There is so much
want in me
sometimes it's scary.

It becomes---
a hole I cannot fill.

Giving birth to
a whole other person
that I can not please.

Bound up in anxiety
then left outside myself
to freeze.