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Daisy Jan 2019
I’m dreaming again
Only this time it’s not my own dreams I dream
It’s hers

She’s covered in a thin film of sweat
She trembles
I trembled too

He stands over her
Maliciousness on his face

It’s an oddly farmiliar sight
He’s angry
He was angry at me too

He drops to his knees in front of her
He slides his belt off
Unbuckles his pants
Smirks

Her breathing now becomes
Sporadic and ragged
Inspiration-
Expiration-
Inspiration-
Expiration-

She shakes uncontrollably
I shook uncontrollably too

As he leans over her
She holds her breath and waits
Inspiration-

She tries to scream
She tries to move
She tries to say ‘no’

She can’t
She’s terrified
I was terrified too

I wake startled
“Another night terror plagued me”
I say to the darkness

I don’t know what’s worse anymore
Hearing my screams
Or hearing hers
ardnaxela Jan 2019
That  
was me
that told my Self
that  
it is okay  
to weep,
that  
it is okay    
to hurt
That  
was me
that told my Self
that  
it is okay    
to steep,
that  
it is okay  
to heal
That  
was me
that told my Self
that  
it is okay    
to let go,
that  
it is okay  
to give
That  
was me
that told my Self
that  
it is okay    
to breathe,
that  
is okay    
to live
That  
was me
that told my self
that it is okay.
To every person who got it up out the mud, you my people.
1-12-19, 3:04 am.
Van Byrde Jan 2019
i don't think i like nice people
i feel guilty around them
like my past stains me still
and they see it all
tryhard Dec 2018
i do not know
to be honest
what or who i am
or what i should be
i know not
why i am here
or any other reason
to stay a little longer
but what i find
just as hopeful
is i still do
despite not knowing
i am fighting
for a cause i cannot yet name
i am searching
without the assurance of finding
something is keeping me here
in the pointlessness of everything
and i do not why
but i am staying here
and as you can see my entire life is an existential crisis
libra Dec 2018
there was no masked man in the streets
no dark alleys
no wandering empty city streets at night
it was us
and a bed
and a no that died on my lips
a stop i never said but longed for
it was on those dingy sheets that i became a shiny object
made only to please you
suddenly
i was covered in rust
coming to terms with ****** assault is hard
arian Dec 2018
The world is spinning,
The crickets are singing,
The sea salt is climbing—
What a beautiful morning.
mal monson Dec 2018
they let their sticky humid hands
hold my glitching hologram body
against the scratchy playhouse
walls and drag their clammy
claws where no child should
think to rub all the while
whispering into my vacant ears
how they would beat me and
bite me and cut me and kick me
if anyone were to ever find out
our little game as tapeworm
tears sludged from my sickly
sweet rotting eyesockets and
down my shiny shaking dust
stained cheeks silently over my
cold and closing throat and
when my dad finally ripped the
splintering wooden door across
the sandy shifting floor i was so
pale pink blue i could have been
six hours dead save for my
fracturing porcelain and
plexiglass heart destructive and
bashing and shattering itself
through my frail and brittle
crumbling ribcage whispering to
me how badly my dad would
scream at me for the way we
were playing
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