Never sleep without your shoes on your feet,

I forced my mouth to quiet my cries,
for fear of another whip from the belt,
she frowned as if to me tell me, "not another sound."

Morning finally shined in,
but momma better not get woke up before ten,
so I waited until the night before I started in again,
"mommy, he was my dad that died too,"
avoiding eye contact, "no you belong to that ***** that gave birth to you, "

Trying one more time pleading the way 5-year
old's do, "but you're my mommy, I love you and
I miss daddy too,"

Suddenly my body slammed to the floor, realizing my shoes were the color of blue,
fear, pain, the taste of blood not knowing to stay still or try to move,
could never guess which
to do, no matter her
mood,

Grieving for my daddy,
begging for her love... she couldn't because I wasn't her  blood,
my sister called her boyfriend, "daddy," though,
ironically she had my dad's last name but not me strangely so.

That cold Chicago night my shoelaces were tied extra tight,
in fear, she'd put me in the dumpster like so many times she dared.

Always sleep with your
shoes on your feet,
never get comfortable...
like innocent prey you'll
be eat.
~SacredInkedblood™
©2018
Ven Jencie Clifton Arnold
Author Ven J Arnold page on Fb Series3, Always Sleep With Your Shoes On"
Sketcher Nov 1
Saw them holding hands the other day,
So, I tried to stay away,
If I got close they would see my sadness,
But last week she was on my mattress,
This is why I'm so confused,
Either way she is amused,
She's between my sheets,
Then he's between her legs,
Anger continues to increase,
So, stay out of my bed,
Or don't do what I say,
Just keep clinging to him when he's around,
Then cling to me,
When I'm the only one inbound,
Don't stop the fake love you're spilling out,
If you don't want to,
You'll break more men, the dishonest and devout,
But don't be surprised if out the blue,
Some man breaks your heart and cheats on you,
It'll be something that you can't construe,
But if you come back to me I'll say, "Who knew? ",
Do what you must, and I'll go along with it,
Drink your alcohol and give your **** another hit,
I'm trying not to care,
Trying to take my feelings and smother it,
But now I'm done,
Although I could go on forever,
Once the ramblings begun,
I couldn't be more clever,
How do I end this,
Obviously not with a kiss,
Or an I miss,
Although I really do,
And I'm feeling blue,
I guess this is my cue,
I'm out...
hollow Oct 13
there is no guarantee
that we will ever be free
I can't tell you why
the rain pours
and the people mourn
there is no guarantee
that we will ever find peace
I can't tell you why
we go to war
and why he called you a *****
there is no guarantee
that we will ever be happy
I can't tell you why
half of us are on anti-depressants
and why we are fighting the resistance
I can't tell you why
there is no guarantee
Arthur Vaso Oct 6
Crumble
brothels sprout
flesh peddlers collect their fees
selling daughters
in twos and threes
Lopez or Diaz
lazy or defiant
escaped
in polluted lagoons
the virus spreads

Dancing with the dead
priests absolve the devils
in their mist
Pilar sold her virginity
for a few bars of gold
wrapped in an old ladies hatred
she murdered her vows

Mexico is a land of smiles
the knife only glints
in the Aztec sun
as they bury you
after eating your heart
Pilar Lopez Diaz, thief, day of the dead Acambaro
No one ever knew
What it was like to be a ****
They never felt the unnerving sensation
Of the lingering touches and kisses
No one knew
How one's skin stings
From trying to scrub away
How ***** and disgusting they feel
They don't know
How it crushes a *****'s heart
To be used but not remembered
How it's hard to find company
Who sees you for who you are
And not for your body
They don't know
How it's hard to live
Upto the society's restrictions
They judged but they were not aware
Of how this bítch was molded
They don't know
But still they criticized
They don't see
The gaping hole left
Within this ****'s personality
They don't feel the pang of rejection
The pain of neglection
The sting of false accusations
They never listened
Their criticism never faltered
No one thought about the bìtch
No one cares for the whôre
What matters was that she destroys
And then get destroyed by her protagonist
They want a fairytale
And there's gotta be a villain.
Mute Sep 22
“No one cares about you unless you’re dead or lying ***** in their bed.”
-mute
•••

too many.
too many to remember.
too many to count.
all my life I’ve been searching for love and affection
in the wrong places..
in the wrong people.
I’ve given up the key to my sanctuary
given up the password to my treasury
only to be tricked and robbed blind.
time and time again i allow myself to be used and abused
like a *****
but at least they get paid.

words can be so deceiving.
one minute they can be whispered so intimately in your ear
while you’re feeling the best pleasure
known to you
and the next millisecond
they can be thrown like daggers
and you’re the target.
and I don’t get it.

every time i think, it’ll be different.
every time i hope, it’ll be different.
but this time ?
i wanted you to be different
and I thought you were.
but now,
my mind is clouded
plagued by the poisonous thoughts in my head.
i was hoping you’d save me,
but you might be the reason i end up
dead.
couldn’t decide on the title so I combined both of my ideas together . this poem is very personal and speaks about something I have told little people. if you have read this poem , then you now know me better than almost every person I know. please do not judge me , this is me showing my soul.
Maša Sep 8
Rip your tights apart, cut your top in half, spray that cheap perfume, ready to get laid, all your bills are paid.
Girls.
We are told
That our cleavage is no good.
To not show it unless
We want the attention
Of that old creep
Across the street.
That it's a sign
From *** she's a ***.
That a decent woman would
Surely never show it.
That our shirts are to impress other,
Instead of ourselves.
We are told at school that our
Comfortable clothes are a distraction.
That our collarbones are ******
And our leggings are bad
Because *** forbid
We wear anything other than
Tight jeans that oppress our legs
And warm jackets
In 90 degree heat.
Liyah Bella Aug 6
i let him grab me intimately at lunch
not because i am a ****
but because i felt like it was okay
Wyatt Jul 19
Me and death have been flirting
back and forth with each other,
but which one's the *****?
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