Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Shagun Gupta Aug 2016
This doesn’t feel right,
I want to go home,
Should I call?
I can’t go home this way,
I’ll wait.

I text a friend,
He’s calling a cab for me,
That’s fine,
I’ll be safe soon,
I can wait.

Maybe I should lie down,
The keeper said I could lie down,
Should I just sit out in the cold instead?
There’s nowhere to go,
I’ll just lie down.

Crack opens the door,
I watch his shadow,
He’s taking his shirt off,
And the air is thick with sweat,
He lies down next to me.

There’s no escape,
There’s no running,
Should I scream?
Will anybody hear?
Is anybody awake?

I close my eyes,
His hands are moving,
I clench my fists,
Salt in my mouth,
Blood in my jeans.

Why can’t I scream?
Did I lose my voice?
Or maybe it didn’t happen to me,
Something hurts,
But he’s gone now.

I adjust my clothes,
Fix my hair,
Stand on my two feet,
And walk out the door,
“You won’t tell anyone, right? You’re like my daughter.”

The cab pulls up,
The driver got lost,
But now I’m on my way,
Something hurts,
I’m on my way.

Maybe it wasn’t what it seemed like,
I was alone and he was a man,
And why was I out drinking anyway?
Nobody needs to know,
It didn’t happen.

I was a mere spectator,
Or was I a participant?
This is an account of ****** violence, and explores themes of dissociation and guilt often experienced by survivors. Part of the experience is described as if it were happening in the present, highlighting a key aspect of how the past often intermingles with the present among those survivors who continue to re-live the trauma.
Feggyr Citack Jul 2016
-on empty life and aimless power: a guy's
big party that happened without him

Laughed out loud this morning
happy, lightly, free,
softly stumbling down the stairs
- but really, god it isn't me.

Broken glass in the living
scrunching under my feet,
torn portraits, burnt letters,
melted bottles, boiling books
- hahaha, no, it wasn't me.

Went out, caught fire, blew up
- don't know for which cause.
Touched down on the balcony
- from the victims no applause.
Hot red footprints ten inch deep
- not mine, I was sound asleep.

Hmmm, fresh air,
can smell it through the window glass.

Who is this guy outside,
stretching out his arm to me?

Just wondering...
will they ever remove these bars,
so we can shake hands?
Broken down, discarded dreams,
Slipping through these splitting seams,
Seems to me these eyes can't see
A way to flee this one note scene.

Discordant dissonance of hate,
The fear and pain it propagates,
Weeping mothers, bleeding sons,
A war is waged that can't be won.

Another day, another shooting,
Another factory polluting
Drinking water, poisoned crops,
White collar crimes, when will they stop?

The future never looked so bleak,
Each suture we possess is meek.
But humankind will persevere,
And filter blackened waters clear.
storm siren Jul 2016
She punched him square in the jaw,
Her ring cracking one of his teeth.
She spat on him as he hit the ground.

It was toxic, but it sent her into a rage
She thought at the very least of him being such a **** bag
That maybe he'd be a little better than THIS.

Dating the girl who he went on his first date with
Exactly a week and one day after he very literally dumped her
On her best friends porch.

And yeah,
She's happy now.
But she thought maybe he was better than this.
Maybe he was a better person,
Somewhere maybe deep inside he was still the same better person
And the hope of a friendship one day in the far off future
Would still be there
But no.

So she kicks him while he's down,
And cracks her knuckles on her right hand with an upper cut as he struggles to get back up.

"Vapid *****."

She growls as she knees him one more time,
And walks away.

His new flame looks offended.

She shrugs and warns:
"Oh honey, not you. Him. You'll see."

Before dusting off her dress,
Slipping her heels back on,
And walking back into the light
Where better things await.
I love liars.

And by love, I mean I want to beat their heads in, but not literally. I'm just angry.

Okay, it's been three minutes. I'll be entirely calm in two.
Rina Vana Jul 2016
How will we find an answer to the question
tearing at the threads of our chests?
Ambitions, traditions, building and expecting
soft skin listening
dinner ready,
warm and waiting

for someone who won’t
be coming home
Don’t turn on the television
and don’t pick up the phone
out spills blood from the twirling cord
he’s gone, she’s gone, they’re gone
Hate has again won

and I’m sorry I couldn’t have
been there to help
My ears ring with
the screaming
across the earth
and
my heart feels
the fingers that grip
their loved ones limp faces
with eyes that stare blankly
towards the sky
drowning in tears
and inquiring *why
Julia Mae Jul 2016
he was violet violence in her eyes
and she was cyan sadness in his
the two tried to mesh
but their colors couldn't blend
Drake Brayer Jul 2016
The violet sky was burning
An aura of deadly white
Myriad of colours churning
Among the silent lights

The sky awash with violence
The sounds of shattered steel
The terror of eternal silence
Was burned into my ears

The sound of grinding iron
The whistling of fallen shells
The blare of air-raid sirens
The cacophony suddenly fell

The death of sound was violent
It's melody so suddenly hushed
The music of war was silenced
Though its tempo remained untouched
Welcome to our zoo
The best in town
It will be a pleasure
Showing you around

Look at the lions
But make no sound
So beautiful, so tame
But they will get you down

Look at the monkeys
They laugh and they eat
Think you drink a lot?
They will have you beat

Look at the seals
Waiting for their treat
They'll come crying to you
Once their clothes don't fit

Look at the ducks
Courage they don't lack
To protect their families
They won't hesitate to attack

Too soon the visit's over
Pick your poison, have a snack
We're all animals in this zoo
And we know you will come back
Silverflame Jul 2016
The world is trapped in a thick haze,
which is why no one wants to be themselves these days.
They are watching; circling like vultures,
while slowly washing away my colors.

Bandages and "sorry" don’t fix bullet holes,
decaying people have decaying goals.
Do not dare to dream of something bigger,
when your friend is shaking with their finger on the trigger.

Childhood songs are stored within,
like ink is etched into my skin.
My youth they stole; they left me plain,
with venom quickly crashing through my veins.

We are all but pilot episodes,
failing to ever make it as we go.
Like lost souls we flourish through the night,
searching for originality to make us shine bright.

Society; your cage is officially suffocating,
our lives you so ruthless is dominating.
The truth I speak is so loud you can not ignore,
because this is not another harmless metaphor.*

I declare war.
Next page