Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
always anxious Oct 2016
I'm afraid of many things..

The usual...
Spiders
Heights
The dark
Strangers
Clowns
Dying
Fire
Flying
And the list goes on...


But the thing i fear the most is that you see me the way i see myself..
Shianne Michelle Sep 2016
Where do I go?
What do I tell her?
When my body is physically wrapped in her arms though my mind is somewhere dark, drowning with my own thoughts
Slipping further and further from the surface of reality
Tonight
I put on a mask
tread the water of my thoughts.
And pretend like nothing is better.
Than drowning in substantial agony
With a smile.
always anxious Sep 2016
i've been joyful for the past 4 months... i haven't even had one sad moment....
but all of a sudden i look back at how my family is torn apart, how i changed so much..
how much weight i gained.. how faded my scars are, and i kinda miss the way i fell....

I would never imagine that i could miss something that bad this much..
J Sep 2016
I tried to turn this anger into art
oh, god did I pray for one stroke of beauty
I was blinded by fog and the nausea consumed me
I fell to my knees looking for a single way to make sense of this hate
I don't remember how to channel my energy, the kind that just drains me
Into something healthy, something beautiful, something colorful
I just know that I'm struggling to stay above water
The tide comes in aggresively, and I am looking for a fight
I start arguments with the mirror to distract myself long enough not to collapse
Because I remember you're not coming back,
You're never coming back


*******.
Isabella Rizzo Aug 2016
August 6th, 2016; I had a body forced onto me.
His ***** hands grasped my body and pulled my hair.
I said stop with a nervous laugh.
He pushed his hips to my back and started to nibble at my neck.
I turned around and kissed him.
He moaned into my ear and I felt disgusted.
And then he pushed me onto the couch and was on top of me.
I said no.
He pulled at my shirt and bit my lip so hard I could taste blood.
"Our friends are outside, let's go chill with them."
"I'm not interested in your friends," He said while grinding his hips against me.
I said no.
He breathed into my mouth and I forced my head to the side, blocking his fiery tongue.
I squirmed and I pushed.
I said no.
I know for a ******* fact that I said no.
#tw
Anne Aug 2016
"Keep that up and you'll end up like your mother."

I couldn't understand this message.
This strange jumble invented by my relative.
Keep what up?
What was I doing?

Eating.
I was chomping on a dessert that my aunt had prepared tenderly.
I was at peace with the world
but my uncle's comment left me distraught.

End up like my mother?
That's all I've ever wanted.
My beautiful, kind, selfless, assertive mother.
She was clever as a fox and delicate and a pink pedal.
End up generous and strong?
Yes please!

Still,
This man watching me eat,
Says it as if it is something to avoid.
There wasn't a correlation that could be made in my mind.

Years later,
I revisited the scene,
Only to have my heart weep for that small girl.
That tiny, confused child quietly nibbling on her cake.

Her mother also eating the treat,
But a larger helping for a larger woman.
She had always been large,
But in my mind that meant more room
For love and passion and aspiration.

"Keep that up and you'll end up like your mother."

I did grow over time,
As most children do.
My pounds piled on
And my skin stretched to make room for the garden growing inside of me.
My body grew larger.
But so did my honesty, my beauty and love for the world.

Maybe I did keep up eating cake,
And maybe I did grow in size,
But to say that 'I'm just like my mother',
Is the best complement I could receive.
The layout is super messy but this is something I think about a lot. You have no idea how much you can affect a child just by making a simple joke.
Abbie Orion Jul 2016
She
she
is hot pink lipstick
she is white lace, long wavy brown hair
she is pretending not to know me
as well as her hands and eyes do
is pretending
she is allowed to be a mother this mothers day
allowed to have children after taking the child out of me
allowed to sit in the pews of this church
without the angels descending
and spontaneously combusting her body.

she is...smiling.

the serial killer in me would like to rip her jaws apart
to break that smile in half and make a necklace from her teeth
I am only reclaiming my bones and bits of me from her mouth
it's more pleasant this way
i don't belong to her anymore
i belong to me
Anne Jul 2016
I am free
and joyous
and grateful
and kind
but I am not creating.
I cannot.

My eyes glued shut.
My lips sewed together.
My hands chopped off.
My body closed by the same monsters that slit my wrists and changed my name.

The storm has passed but the damage has not.
The demons won't release their claws around my throat nor the teeth that sink into my chest.

Ideas and images run at uncharted speeds,
racing and buzzing past every corner of my mind.
Where do I put them?
Where do they go?

I'm trying to find her again:
the girl who painted fairies & danced without socks & wrote stories about ghosts and mermaids.

Those pixies, bare feet and adventures are still floating.
Waiting to be spilled out onto a page, a canvas, a body; any surface worth noticing.  

The thoughts have been patient and kind for too long.
I fear they won't wait any longer.
They urge and itch to be set free, but without any luck, they melt.

They boil and drip into what can only be described as gone.  
I fear that once gone; they will forever be lost.

I am not inventing, I am not expressing.
I am simply wasting, hoping someone else might construct things for me.
I am not creating.
Kelsey Brewski Jul 2016
I am not a child,
I am not your child.
In fact, I am all grown up.

I am all grown up,
but I cannot forget my childhood
because of you.

I kiss girls,
not boys,
because I am afraid that they will hurt me,
(like the monster you are) like you did.

I cover up,
extra clothes,
because I rarely wore clothes as a child
and you would peer at me through
the crack in the bathroom wall.

I don't sing with the birds.
I don't hug my teddy bear.
I don't leave the house.
I am terrified you are out there,
hunting for me like I am your prey.

But I am not a child,
I am all grown up,
and I can beat you up.

I am not a child,
and I will not call you "My Daddy"
and I will not let you call me "Baby".

I am not a child,
and I will not let you touch me.
I am gold, I am radiant, I am light.
And you will not ruin that,
ever, ever, ever again.
© Kelsey Austere, 2016
Kelsey Brewski Jul 2016
I am a child in your eyes,
ever since I told you I sleep with my stuffed animals (mostly to keep me company).

I am a child in your eyes,
ever since you saw me bare-faced & naked (I don't like clothes).

I am a child in your eyes,
ever since you touched me in places even God Almighty wouldn't dare to look at.

I am a child in your eyes,
ever since I sang with the birds and played in the mud, losing my voice and getting my dainty dress and Mary Jane's as ***** as I can.

I am a child in your eyes,
ever since I asked you, timidly, if I could sleep with you because I was afraid of the monsters in my closet and the monsters in the walls.

I am a child in your eyes,
even if I am not a child, even if I am not your child.

I am a child in your eyes,
and you, the real monster, use that against me, especially when the town is asleep and the moon is hidden and my teddy bear is missing and I scream, "No, please, not tonight."
© Kelsey Austere, 2016
Next page