#tw poems on Hello Poetry

Chloe May 2018

sorry

What would you think
If you saw my scars?
If you spotted
Those silvery markings
Along my leg?
Would you be angry,
Or hurt,
Because I kept it from you?
Would you be disturbed,
Or shocked,
At the fact that I had done it?
Would you be confused,
Wondering why?
I don’t know.
I hate to keep things from you.
Hate
Hate
Hate it.
But I feel like
I can’t tell you.
I can’t put you through the worry,
The anxiety.
Because honestly,
I’m okay.
Those markings were simply inflicted
In a moment where I wasn’t.
Once I talk about it,
It seems bigger than it is,
And I couldn’t stand to let this
Scare you away,
To let my old hurt
Become your new.
I am sorry,
My love,
But I feel trapped.
I feel
As if my lips are sown shut,
But maybe that’s for the best.

#selfharm #sad #tw #depressed

Noor Apr 2018

Last resort.

It's the snowball theory
Except it's not a snowball, it's me,
and I got frost bites all over my heart and brain,
My emotions are piling up, just like the books on my shelf,
No tears, no screams, slowly building up to the avalanche.
I lie to myself that I'm healing, because denial is easier than facing the fact that my search for happiness is an end road.

Some people are born to live sad, and I'm their queen.
I manage my kingdom with a national anthem that includes "It'll get better" and "You will be okay"
but I know **** well it won't, we all do,
we're infected with this disease, eating us inside out
killing us slowly, never going away,
and we're constantly looking for an escape,
but what happens when the pills don't work anymore?
when the drugs, the ***, the recklessness does not give you a thrill anymore?
when everything turns numb.

You start thinking of the only resort, the one that has always been in the back of your mind
high buildings, sharp objects, ropes, and the deep cold end of the ocean
darkness, silence, isolation.
the feeling of all your worries floating above you, flirting with the moon,
while your body is rested underneath, your soul escapes,
free of your body, your now bloodless heart, and your soul
it's now with the angels, laughing with the stars, looking down...

is this what comes after? no one knows, but I take comfort in thinking there must be something better for people like us, people who live in constant agony, fighting battles with themselves, making amends with their demons,
because no matter how much I try to win, it's always a losing game.

maybe it's me, maybe I'm looking through a black veil.
sometimes I think, why can't I be like other people?
who fight normal battles, seeing the world in colours,
while the only color I see, people don't,
the color of my world, is misery.

#tw #sad #depression

Chloe Apr 2018

truth

It's hard to speak my mind
When I don't know what I'll find-
Will people be kind?
Will they leave me behind?
Will they think that the worst parts of me
Are by what I'm defined?

I try to picture the exchange,
I try to picture what would change.

What do I say?
"Hey, I'm depressed."
What would they say?
"I'm sure you're just stressed."

What if I told them:
"I hurt myself the other day."
And then they told me:
"Accidents happen, it's okay."
And then I'd admit:
"No, I meant to do it."
And then, just like that,
****, I blew it.

They wouldn't know what to say,
I'd drive them away,
Or maybe I'd just hold them at bay.

I'm never quite sure who to tell
That sometimes I don't feel so swell.
That at night I feel alone,
That my heart feels heavy as a stone.
That my eyes overflow,
And I feel so, so,
******* low.

I mean, I'll get there at some point,
I'll find someone to softly anoint
With the hidden, heavy truth,
Wearing my faint scars
As proof.

#depression #rhyme #selfharm #personal #mentalillness #tw #depressed

Chloe Apr 2018

Real (tw)

It gets worse
At night.
When all the lights are off,
When I'm completely
Alone.
The feeling
Can be overwhelming.
This heavy, black
Misery.
This pulsating, pointless
Anger.
I'm driven to tears
By my frustration at
And fear of
Things that are far, far
Beyond my control.
When I am in this feeling,
It is real.
It is so,
Scarily real.
But the next morning,
It's gone.
Some sadness may linger,
But that blackness
Is gone.
It's like
It was never real.
And I don't know how to fight this,
When almost all of the time,
It isn't real to me.
So I make it real.
I make sure
That this feeling
Is remembered.
I write about it,
I mark it into my skin,
Letting the faint scars remain,
So I can look at them
And remember that
The black feeling is real.
That forgetting about it
Won't make it go away.
It'll just render me blissfully ignorant
Until the feeling comes back,
And there I am again,
Exactly where I was last time,
Feeling like this is the first time I've ever
Broken down in this way.
Then I feel like a child
Without any experience,
Any means
Of dealing with this.
I mark myself
So I don't forget
That what I feel
IS REAL.

This is kind of my way of venting, thanks if you read this, I hope if anyone can relate, I made them feel a little less alone. At the risk of sounding like a total hypocrite, please don't self harm, if you feel depressed, talk to your loved ones and people who can help you.

#triggerwarning #tw #selfharm #depression #vent #sad #mentalillness

Carolina Apr 2018

Nerves of steel.

I'll go bottled blonde,
I'll be, again, fragile and skinny.
In plastic surgeries
I want to waste every penny.
I wear makeup
until my skin's all messed up.
I took thousands of pills
until my stomach said stop.
I work out until fatigue,
I write down every meal.
When you say I look better
it gives me self esteem.
But fear strikes evey time
that I get closer to the scale.
It scares me that instead of a number
it'll show the word whale.
I desire to be
the prettiest in the land.
I long to have
the perfect golden tan.
Delicate flower
for everyone to stare.
The magnetic one
that has nothing to repair.
I want to look radiant,
I want to look like a star.
My idea of the perfect weight
will make me take it too far.
But I don't really mind
about my health nor my spirit,
as long as I'm adored,
as long as I have a merit.
They only see you if you're pretty,
they ignore all the wrong;
You may be unstable
but you're worthy of a song.
And I'm not even concerned,
not like someone will notice.
No one did the last time
but anyway I'll tell you this:
I don't care if you find out
all the things that I conceal.
You can talk all you want,
I have nerves of steel.

#tw #eating #disorder #fear #hate #ed #mental #health #relapse #selfesteem

Alex Apr 2018

2018

there were once scars on these wrists,
spaces even, waiting for other scars to align the existing ones.

and then they were gone.
washed over the wave of being an adult and a cloud of illusion willing ones self to be alright..."alright".

there were no scars on my wrist
or my thighs
or my ribs
but it still felt like there was a rip tearing apart my mind,
no matter how clean my vessel was my soul was still in a war.

#meantal #health #tw #self #harm #healing #demons

hani aqil Mar 2018

fishnets

(TW for gore, ****** abuse, ******)

i dreamt she
deepthroated a knife
mouth settling around the blade,
lips split,
two tongued succubus.

tip of the knife
dragged round and round
her plump, sweet thighs
carving fishnets in flesh.

you
are not a father.

a father shouldn’t
want to ram his
insatiable ****
into his

child.

fish on deck
choking on air
spluttering, scales fluttering,
entwined in honeycomb plastic.

this was very difficult but ultimately very satisfying for me to write. my ex's father was an abusive cheater who expressed interest in her, and she'd occasionally tell me about her nightmares or experiences. it really affected me, as someone with a very stable and loving family background. i was really scared, and confused, and most of all disgusted. i remember once i leaned over a toilet at 3 am and wanted to gag so bad. abusive parents can burn in hell. when your child has to recover from their childhood, youve failed miserably at being a parent and a decent human being.
if you have abusive parents, my heart goes out to you. if you have been sexually assaulted, my heart goes out to you. stay strong i love you.
also, fishnets as in the stocking things are supposed to represent sexualization and in the last stanza theres a ref to a fish being trapped in a net (a fish net...!)

#abuse #**** #violence #nightmare #explicit #triggerwarning #tw #gore

Megan Feb 2018

The destruction caused by ****

My therapist used to say that
I get the flashbacks because
I don't talk about it enough.

But how am I supposed to talk about it
when everyone tells me that my story has been made invalid
by the alcohol in my bloodstream,
and the fact that I laughed about it the next day?

We all have different ways to survive.

How was I supposed to process my emotions the morning after
when I had blood dripping down my legs,
standing in the 6am cold,
because shivering outside without a jacket
was far better than staying in a room with one of my rapists,
and the lingering smell of shame?

I am far too young to feel a pain like this.

A pain so heavy that my entire soul is flattened
by the weight I carry around.

A violation so evil
that I cannot help but leave my body -
it is no longer mine
but a vessel
that carries the blackness of my ache,
my thoughts that turn to ash when I try to say them out loud
and the demons that have possessed me.

Demons born from the three of you.

How can I continue
when I can still feel three pairs of unwanted hands,
      gripping,
hitting,
bruising me
all at once?

How can I breathe
when I can still feel six eyes
on the most intimate parts of me,
every vulnerability and weakness?

How can I live
when I still have pieces of you
entangling yourselves around my bones,
suffocating my heart?

I thought that by burying it all deep into myself -
every 'it' that you called me,
every bruise left on my skin,
every single ****** that tore me apart -
encased by my ribcage,
wrapped in skin that you made into paper,
I would be able to carry on.

I created my very own Pandora's box.

But you escaped;
every millilitre of your venom
is combined and coursing through my veins,
poisoning each one of my nerve endings.

I no longer see the same version of myself,
like looking in a broken mirror,
each fragment showing a different flaw, a different shame.
I am not me.

I am full of darkness.
My mind is sick,
I am filled to the brim with hate and anger and inescapable sadness.
You made me into a monster
that leaves fingerprints of acid on everything I touch.

Is there anything worse
than seeing six vitriolic eyes
everywhere I go?

Is there anything worse
than your visits to me when I sleep,
waking up drenched in sweat because of the horror?

Is there anything worse
than feeling a constant lump of anxiety in my throat,
whenever I'm left alone? -
because please
please
please don't feed me to the wolves again!

Is there anything worse
than starving myself because
no-one will ever love me unless I'm thin because
I'm too riddled with trauma?

Is there anything worse
than blaming myself so much
that I started hurting myself again?

No-one ever tells you that trauma lasts forever,
but I'm learning that now.
Because it's been ten months and twenty-two days since
the three of you destroyed me...

And you've been destroying me every day since.

If you've read this to the end, THIS is the destruction caused by **** - stop injustice anywhere you can

#**** #tw #trigger #suicide #anorexia #selfharm #important

Megan Feb 2018

To my three rapists

i have to show the world that what you three did to me only scratched my surface,
only took off the shiny layer of myself that i had previously perfected for the eyes of society’s critical audience.
but you didn’t.
you’ve broken my soul
and torn my heart
and punctured my lungs
and i’m finding it harder to live and breathe every single day.
people think that the pain caused by an experience like this lives and dies in the moment that it happens,
but those people are sincerely wrong.
it's been three hundred and twenty-seven days since it happened,
since each of you violated me
and took advantage of me
and abused my right to consent.
but i bet you didn’t know that those days equate to seven thousand, eight hundred and forty-eight hours that it’s been on my mind
and i bet you didn’t know that the nightmare is now burned into my skin
and flowing through my blood
and coded into my dna.
the constant feeling that my body is no longer mine will not leave.
the feeling that i’m missing a part of myself is going to stick with me.
the feeling that my heart strings are severed,
that my lungs have burst,
that my legs can no longer carry the weight of my newly found burden
and that my life has been tainted by your evil touch
will never disperse.
these feelings cannot be brushed under a rug,
but i’ve got to appear like they can to the outside world.
do you know what else hurts?
what also hurts is that this trauma,
the same trauma that is making me want to end my life,
constantly hoping that the last of my heart strings will break so that my heart can plummet to the depths of my destroyed soul to lay with my sanity,
is being used to mock me.
as if my life could be forced into further submission without the teasing and bullying of my peers.
thank you,
to the three boys that took my innocence,
turned my meaning of the word ‘no’ into ‘yes’
and made my body into a lighthouse as a guide for the devil.
he’s found me.
you’ve broke me.
you win.

#**** #tw #trigger #suicide #sad #healing