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Pixie Feb 23
The greenery of this place never fooled me
The sky just looks so fake,
the clouds are drawn on.
Im at the park on the swings
I need to feel something in my stomach before I waste away at the young ripe age of 5

Just 8 years later getting fingered on the same slide I was afraid of as a little girl
The wind from the past keeps the swings on the playground moving higher
Doing the things that are bad for me
Just to feel lighter

When I'm 15 I have no place to be
No one and nothing to call home
Not even my body is somewhere I know.  
I pop a xannie for the thrill
Hoping that stranger I messaged will take me away from the godforsaken place

This stupid park that holds me so captive.
Run away can't face what is happening
In my head, I'm already dead
Nothing is real
take a Xanax
I only like doing the things that are bad for me
I only like feelings if they're going to make me bleed
I don't care about the context
Of my universal insignificance, I can't even repent. Sitting here on the floor. Higher than the swings ever brought me.
Crashing harder and harder each time I speak.
I can't get off the swing.
Maryann I Feb 20
I never thought the words would stick,
Not in my throat, not in my skin,
But here they are, burning like a wick,
The lies they told, the shape I’m in.

I hear them now, when I close my eyes,
My mother’s voice, sharp and cold,
Telling me that I’m not enough,
That I’ll never be worth the love I’m sold.

“Mary, you’re a disappointment,”
The words hit like a slap in the face.
Every failure is a mark she leaves,
Every tear is a slap to my grace.

She says it’s my fault,
I’m the one who makes her break,
But how do I fix what’s broken,
When I don’t even know where to start or take?

Her last words haunt me in the night,
Telling me I’m wrong, telling me I fight,
Telling me my worth is nothing,
That I’m just a ghost in a family that’s done with loving.
Her last words, sharp as knives,
Cut through the quiet of my fragile life.

She’s always angry, always mad,
Never sees what’s behind the sad.
I’m just a face she can’t embrace,
A reflection of everything she can’t erase.

She tells me I’ll never be enough,
My nose too big, my heart too soft.
She tells me I’ll end up like them,
The ones who couldn’t make it,
Couldn’t win.

She says it so casually,
As though the pain doesn’t stick.
As though she doesn’t see my tears,
As though her words won’t break me quick.

Her last words echo in my chest,
Telling me I’m nothing,
Telling me I’ll never be my best.
Her last words, like a whispered prayer,
Begging me to break, but I’ll never be there.

And every time I try to stand tall,
She pushes me back down again,
Says I’m a failure, says I’ll fall,
And that I’m no better than my biological kin.

But somewhere inside, I still fight,
I still hope that one day I’ll rise,
Even if she can’t see my light,
Even if she only sees the lies.


She yells at Y, tells her the same,
That we’re the problem, that we’re to blame.
She says it’s our fault she feels this way,
But it’s her rage that never fades.
It’s her fear that’s running wild,
Turning her into a broken child.

And every time she calls me out,
I think of what could’ve been,
If love didn’t come with rules and doubt,
If we were just a family, not a war within.

Her last words are the truth I can’t escape,
They’re carved into my skin, into my fate.
Her last words, heavy like stone,
Reminding me that I’m always alone.

And when my breath finally fades away,
It’ll be her words that seal my end.
Not the love I longed for, but the lies she said,
Will be the silence where my heart bends.

The world won’t miss me, they’ll forget my name,
Just another girl lost in a family’s shame.
I’ll be just a shadow, fading fast,
A memory of love that never lasts.

Her last words will haunt me still,
As my body grows cold, my spirit still.
In the end, I’ll finally be free,
From the weight of her love, from what’s left of me.
This poem is inspired by the song Her Last Words by Courtney Parker. I’ve taken elements of the song and shaped them into a poem, capturing the emotions of venting and vulnerability. This piece is a vent—a raw expression of my thoughts—but it doesn’t define me. I am stronger than these moments, stronger than the pain.

Hello Poetry is a space where I can be real, where I can let my thoughts spill out without judgment. These words do not mark the end of me but are part of my process of healing and release. While this poem reflects some of my darker thoughts, it is just one part of my journey, not the whole of who I am.
Pixie Feb 20
And if my body was my home
Id burn it and everything to the ground
Rebuild it bit by bit from ashes
A home you cannot touch
A home you have not haunted.
One that's safe and peaceful free from your ghost
A brand new body
That your soul no longer hosts
My body cannot be a home
But maybe if I  dig you out
And remove your grave from my heart
I will finally have a body that I can rest peacefully in when I die
Instead of letting it rot from the inside out, while I'm alive.
IdleHvnds Feb 20
I’ve lost myself to trauma,
forgotten is the little girl playing in the back yard
amongst the flower bed, daydreaming of a bright future
Lost is the social butterfly, making dear friends
ever so swiftly in the playground

When I found her, she has become introverted
no longer visiting the flora, trapped in spikes and barb in the back of her mind
too intimidated  to enter a crowded space
flustered to interact with anyone new

Isolation the solution
forgotten of the hobbies and enjoyments of day to day
mindlessly pushing through the emotions no longer attached
to what was once loved
Numbness inhabiting the brain —
Lost of the need to intertwine ones self with others
no longer feeling closeness and safety within friends
Absent in believing in people’s altruism
words no longer carrying veracity
but only said for gain

I’ve lost myself to trauma,
and I don’t know if I will ever get her back.
Pixie Feb 20
What if God was the serpent all along
He is all knowing
he gave free will to Adam and Eve knowing she would eat the apple from the forsaken tree
Which shows that he has it out for me
The deal was sealed that very night
I shouted I scream and cried
I wanted the love I wanted the help
From the "all knowing" "all loving" "all powerful" omnipotent being
Begging for his heavenly father to use his Devine power to rescue me
Only to be left stranded and abandoned
The holy Father prays on our downfalls
And deceives us more than Lucifer, the fallen angel ever could.
The holy Father grins at our dispair.
He kept letting it happen to me even as I cry out and plea, multiples times over
God told me unholy little girls can't get into heaven
He watches the world burn and lets the devil take credit for his glorious destructive ways.
Haunted by guilt, consumed by shame
A little girls cherry bleed bright red For the game, right under a cross i beg and and I try, I ask god if he can close his eyes but he will condemn me for life
This time forced to live in eternal fear
The holy Ghost is not near
I cannot atone for sins that aren't mine
I will not be forced to abide.
Not a critique on religion persay but if you wanna think of it as one go for it.
Pixie Feb 20
When I was in 1st grade I would jump off the swing set just to feel alive
I got a lot of attention because the other kids thought I could die
Maybe I was lacking some sort of Imbalance chemically in my mind
Because the attention they gave me Was a new type of high

I illicit reactions just so I can feel fine
Blood is in the sink I think I can finally see the light
I want to feel the wind between my arms And lift into the air just one more time
The attention is addicting

Thick eyeliner and a black boobie dress
12 years old and they say I'm not filled out quite yet
I enjoyed the validation the old men gave me
Blood red, pill dead
Just like the pretty cigarette girls on TV said.
stuck in this loveless hole until somebody saves me.
Self destructive, enable the pain
Turn the corner and play their game.
I only want to what's worst for me.

I illicit reactions just to see
The emotionally intense delivery
Oh you should see your face,
And in the frown you gave me.
I'm just a liar now
No one hears my screams
There's blood in the sink and no one is listening

Lower middle class middle school *****, stealing pencil sharpeners every chance I could get
The blood is on my clothes and its not coming off
And I'll still send that old man a picture of my body
As I leek blood, draining it like a hobby.
He ignores my pain to fulfill his selfish pleasures knowing he gets to see a pubescent body with ******* on
I only like doing the things that are bad for me.

I illicit these reactions to keep the attraction
If I'm in control and I know their intentions, they can't hurt me
It can't happen
But there's still blood in the sink
God I'm so tragic
Wouldn't you think?
Pixie Feb 20
The walls are caving in,
but I can’t remember if I built them or if they’re just the ghosts of where I’ve been.
Your name is the ember in my chest—
I’m always burning,
but I can’t figure out why yet.

I wear your touch like a tattoo
etched into my skin
but it’s fading,
and I wonder if I can really feel it anymore
or if I’ve just learned to forget the ache.

My hands tremble like an abandoned house in a storm,
looking for something to hold,
but everything I touch slips between my fingers
like time,
Like memories,
Like all the parts of me I forgot and can't remember,
And like all the people who promised to stay but never did.

I was naive to think love was the key
to unlock this bottomless abyss inside my ribs and inside my chest,
but now I'm just fading away,
like the echoes of voices I never wanted to hear but make me feel so much less lonely.
I fill the silence with smoke
and stories that don’t belong to me—
Or perhaps stories that were lived through my eyes but I can't actually see.

I’m running from the ghosts of myself,
but they don’t let me go.
They pull me back to that place,
In that house
where I learned that pain is the only thing that ever feels real.
The higher I go,
The more I feel,
The greater the risk
the harder I crash.

But I can't stop.
I only let the blood mix with the rain.
I beg the sky for answers,
but the clouds never speak,
Forcing my to gather my own perception of peace.

I wanted to be saved.
By anyone other than myself
I wasn't ever taught to fly
But I learned to jump
And I jumped so high I found a cloud
One far away, one that's a lot less loud.
It's safer up here
My poems don't feel well structured but it's similar to how my own mind works anyway.
Pixie Feb 19
Violated-
and yet to be vindicated, the pieces of me that have been stolen and never returned, still haunt me when I close my eyes.

Isolated-
from my mind, unable to access and find the proof of my memories that were left behind. The walls I built to keep the pain from finding me, have become the prison that fuels my decay

Only-
fragments remain, a broken mirror scattered on the floor. Seeing myself in parts, dripping blood as I piece myself back together, to never remain as before

Lingering-
in the shadows of my thoughts, I search for solace in silence, but the echoes whisper softly in my ear, spinning in my mind.

Empty-
heart and empty mind, crush the pills and scrape it in a line. Just a release to keep your ghosts away from mine.

Never-
will I be the same.  Each small event had a role to play. Making me sick thinking about their game. The void is deeper than I can explain.

Crashing-
waves of doubt and regret pull me under, suffocating the last remnants of who I thought I was. But in this water, I cannot see. Forcing my eyes shut to avoid the pain of the salt sinking in.

Endings-
are not what I fear. It’s the thought of never having a chance to begin again, the weight of knowing my worth and understanding what safety really is. My heart is violent just like you. My mind unsafe too. Yet i couldn't be violent the way you do.
When will the violence be over
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