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Louise Feb 24
my body still shakes
and my mind still freezes
at the sound of someone screaming
it always chills me to the bone
i immediately turn to stone

i wish you were here with me
but i know that you are gone
and i have to let you go
i just wish i could hear
your voice again
one last time is all i’m asking for
but as i reached the door i saw you
lying lifeless on your bedroom floor

you passed away too soon
feels like it happened out of the blue
you were still a little child
and even though you always smiled
you took your life
by the time you were nine
i don’t know why, but i do know when
because i was right there at the time

i can’t look at ambulances
or trauma helicopters
without having flashbacks
to that horrible day
where you faded away
where my life changed forever
and my world came crashing down
since that day no one has ever
seen the me they used to know

3 ambulances and a helicopter
telling me something had gone
terribly wrong in your house
paramedics had been in there
for over 30 minutes now
when they finally came outside
i stood right here in fear and fright
watching the ambulance
go up and down to save your life

half an hour later
a paramedic came up to me
and told me there was nothing
they could do to wake you up again
at that moment the tears
were not yet there because
this was a never ending shock
that i couldn’t seem to bear

most people say that somehow
it’s not the goodbye that hurts
it’s the flashbacks that follow
that is why i feel so hollow
i wish i didn’t have a clue
but i know for me it’s true

i just hope you’ve finally found
the peace of mind you were looking for
and that you are safe and sound

all that’s left now in my head
is this feeling called regret
i should’ve noticed something off
like a change in your mood
but i couldn’t and it kills me

and even though this is a thing that
follows me silently everyday
it’s hurting me more than ever
right now
and i’m still not okay

- August 12th 2016 is the day that changed me forever

l. h.
If I can identify the problems with
the actions that I take, and the moves that I make
mere seconds after flapping my lips, or
twisting my lips, then

why do I do what I do?
I don't know.
If you're asking whether I think
it's a good thing, or
a bad thing. . .

How long   is it before
"just what I do"    delivers
you to prison walls from paradise?
How far   is too far, to
let my personality drag my brain around?

If I'm self aware, I'm on the borderline.
Control me, will you, my rampant ways?
I have you centered in my sights better
than I ever have, and it's now I think to tell
myself, Action must yield choices more
than Piety or Wantonness. As a for instance,
if I see myself clearly, can I drop the gun
as long as I develop disclosure and transparency?

I'm ******* you, I already know my answer's yes.
From my experience, honesty invites
the utter end of communion,
and from this, you inherit an abject loneliness.
The devil must be
My producer
Because my thoughts
Are only composed
of Evil
In this world
Of lies
I was born
A deceiver
No need for
A redeemer
Because my
Cause is lost
And if you tally
Up my points
My life is at a
Misfortune is
The only thing
I've been blessed
And pain is my
Only gift
If you take away
My reasoning
Darkness will be
All that I have
Rizna M Rameez Jun 2018
Too shocked for words,......
A scream....  Blank.
Under. Murky brown? Pitch black?
A hand.... Water? Tonnes..... Waves..
Slamming into me..... Drowning...

Breathing? Gone?
A hand... Two....

Confusion. Screams. Terror.
It was all too much. Waves....
Too strong, The water was too strong.
She was gone .... going....
We couldn’t get her out
Two hands. Not enough.
Have we lost her?

Water beating against me.
Two hands? Six?
Air squeezed out of my lungs.
Pitch black.
Stay strong.

Air. Light.  Life?
Dazed. Shocked. Petrified.
Sprained ankle? Twisted leg?
Who cares,
I’m Alive!

Weak, but breathing.
Shocked. Tears of shock.
A dream?
No, the feeling’s still there.
Still wet. Had I let go?

Alive. And breathing.
Had I let go?
Trying to capture the horror of a traumatic incident that I experienced first hand.
An 11 year old girl, was drowning, believe it or not, in a drainage, because it was raining heavily and the drainage was overflowing, and then she went under the drainage cover with the only part of her out was her hands which her friend and I were holding. But we couldn’t pull her out because of the force of the water. We thought she’d drown, she was completely under sewage water. Luckily, parents came by and pulled off the drainage cover and pulled her out of the water, head first. This sort of thing can easily happen in Sri Lanka because we have heavy rainy seasons and incompletely covered drainage lining the streets.
The authorities refused to do anything about the open drainage in front of our school, which is where this happened. They even said “We cannot do anything even if a child DIES”. Which, to us, as the children they speak of, can be very traumatic.
I was shocked for days, and that’s when I decided to write a poem.
Charlie Gnarly May 2018
Sticky scent arouses my head
Through my spine and down my neck
In my chest is where it goes next
This stickiness is now everywhere

A poem based on my horrific incident as a young child with a jar of honey.
Britney Lyn Nov 2017
I don't like being called "good girl" anymore.
Not because I don't like the way you say it, or why you're saying it. No.
I don't like being called "good girl" because of a man.
I met him at a party, my friend ditched me.
I was watching everyone around me relax and have fun, but I was so tense.
He must have picked up on my weakness, like a predator to prey.
He handed me a drink and kept me company, he said I looked nervous.
He told me to relax and to take a hit off his joint.
I didn't want to be there anymore, but I tried to take his advice.
We sat on the floor near the double doors and he told me I still looked nervous.
He said I had no reason to be that he'd never let anything happen to me.
I just laughed because he only just met me.
Next thing I remember I wasn't feeling too good, my head was cloudy, and the floor was the ceiling.
I remember his eyes on me, so hungry.
I remember his hands on me, whereas mine were incapable of moving.
He couldn't meet my eyes and I couldnt remember where we were or how we got there, but it wasn't by the double doors anymore.
I remember noises, the dim lighting around us, I tried to focus on anything and everything else.
I was screaming, but I don't actually know if the noise came out.
I remember the hot tears that slid down my face as he slid over my body.
I was a toy, I couldn't do anything, I was a puppet to his whim.
He stoked my face occasionally and said I was a good girl, that I didn't need to be nervous, that I was a good girl, to just take it.
I remember wailing, his hand covering my mouth, my lips bruising, my body throbbing.
I haven't seen myself the same since, there wasn't anyone I felt safe with, not a hand that didn't feel like his.
I get sick at the thought of him, at the thought of that act he forced me to commit.
I didn't know his name but I knew his face because it haunts my dreams.
I scare easy now, I want to hide but sleep can't even save me.
I didn't want to be a good girl, I never wanted to be a good girl.
So please...please.
Don't call me one.
I don't think I'll ever be able to read this poem again, it's too much for me.
Cheyenne Sep 2017
Something isn't right
I can taste it on your lips
Feel the tremor through my fingers
Resting on your hips

You are scared of me
Scared what I can do
Someone else has hurt you
Now your scared I'll hurt you too
Kerstin Martinez Jul 2017
Lovers learn to love each other after the sun rises
True love can learn to love again after something traumatic
We can do it all over again
If you're willing
AllyRose Jun 2017
Her eyes are weary, but she’s wide awake.
She can’t seem to shake this feeling away.
She knew what you were, but had to learn the hard way.
She broke out of the asylum.
Night terrors still haunt her in the dark.
Blinded by her dreams.
There’s a disease in her garden.
She had no choice except to abandon all of her sins back in autumn.
Here in the shadow she cries.
Every night she holds on for dear life.
Barely making it out alive.
Here in the shadow she only just survives.
In a bed she doesn’t want to sleep in,
In a world she doesn’t want to live in,
In a universe she doesn’t want to exist in,
Is where she lies.
She wants to pull her stomach over her head and swallow.
The weight is adding to the baggage she always carries.
It’s not as strong as all of this tormenting sorrow.
She suffered through the invasion.
Her soul forever paralyzed.
If she ends this now, she’ll never feel anything again…
honey May 2017
your hands are on me
you made me bad
disgusting, rotten and
you spoiled my innocence
my ability to trust
you erased my childhood with your
all i can see is your hands
everywhere they shouldn’t be
they’re suffocating me and you’re
you’re **** near evil
you’re just a memory
i hope you burn, bleed, drown
this was the first thing i wrote about my childhood, which i only start to remember after my 8th birthday. i don't remember his face or who he was, only his hands.
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