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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
Larissa Frost Nov 2020
Set the boundaries
Ease the pain
Life will go
Much better they say
Easier said than
Put into place
Cause when I did
His hands rose to
My face.

                    -L.Frost

“They” have never lived
        with a narcissist.
Larissa Frost Nov 2020
You lured me in
With your compliments
And trapped me with
your lies
I could never please you
No matter how I tried
The day we tied
The knot to hell
I saw the evil twist
And some years later
I ran
To escape
Your
      Fist.

                       -L.Frost
blackbiird Sep 2020
Beneath the garden
shed, her bones bleed
Without much notice of
decay.

Smells of rotten garbage
Permeated the building
Of her demise
Without much notice of
isolation.

Souless, lifeless carcass
Becomes her as she loses
Unconsciousness beneath the
Rotting soil.

And the malevolence
Took over.
i'm so angry -
my face is pale,
an empty canvas
no artist
wanted to
draw in.

i want something.
fill the void between
sharpened teeth:
vomiting
coffee grinds
and blood
into the
pages of
my favorite
novel,

i destroy myself remembering
times where my glasses were still broken.
bed sheets always stained with spelt wine
as drunk lovers stumbling into my bed -
they lean the bottle into my small hands,
keeping the mattress wet.
the red is nothing
smothering all over me.

no one is looking this way.
hungry gods play with hot glue,
pressing eyes like wrought iron
into my nerves - tearing
the ends apart to justify the means,
as if i don't know people leave when
you're down to your last layer of skin.

the world i sleep in
tastes of fog water
and i can never
catch a breath
pushing every
-thing down
with old opened
*** to drag my
self to the sink:

     i splash
water onto my
   face.

who the **** is that?
revised a two year old poem!!!!!
Thomas W Case Apr 2020
It's always the bat-****, rabid dog
crazy ones that will put up a really
good front when you first meet them.
You're always amazed at how normal they appear.
They are intelligent, hold down jobs, drive Volvo's;
maybe they even have children that they
seem to take care of.  They pay bills,
celebrate holidays and have houseplants.
They might even have a
dog or a cat, or a sickly looking bird in a cage.
But, just underneath the false facade of
lucid smiles, lurks a whack-job from hell.
They make Sybil and Lizzie Borden look
like Mother Theresa.

If you find yourself with one of these
women, don't confront them, it only
makes matters worse, and could prove deadly.
Just smile and nod, and slowly back out
the door.  Don't stop until you see the
Pacific Ocean.  Get in and wash yourself off.
Your safer with the sharks and the riptide.
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Gun
I thought of cool lines with hard angles
Sliding fingers across steel burnished bright
The touch felt solid under rapt enraptured fingers
Heavy to the hand, but built so very light

This gun was my protection
It shimmered in the moonlight, built for feel
Blurring hard angles into smooth curves
Steel gave way to flesh, earthly appeal

Lubrication turned to sweat, slick with desire
This power is intoxicating, it makes me free
Silky hair took place of polymer coat
My lover was my gun
Pointed right at me
This poem describes the textile nature of love and fear.  Many have shared in a toxic relationship where we have felt powerful as if nothing else in the world mattered.  Love like guns can be dangerous if we lose ourselves in that perceived power.  Don't be the gun pointed at another person and don't let someone else be the gun pointed at you.
Chiriqué Jan 2020
Beautiful young boy with a heart of gold,
Corrupt my heart with your ugly soul,
All good intentions rotting you whole,
Crying wolf to walls of stone,
Pack your bags and hope to live ,
Pills stain your strawberry lips .

Beautiful young girl with an innocent face ,
Date all the boys and hope they wont break,
All good intentions rotting you whole ,
Praying for guidance yet corrupting your soul ,
Addiction at night and purity by day ,
No one knows the true mask you display .
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