#abuser
My uncle is evil,
But not to me,
Never to me.
Do you have to be the victim,
To hate the abuser?
He acts so kind,
So wise,
But sometimes it slips,
Usually when he gets his hands,
On liquor.
If you love the victim,
Why can't you hate
The one who hurts them?
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 11:55 PM UTC
This is the ripple effect of your actions after putting on a show like a circus attraction starting with in- fighting that scorches then burns making sure we all get to take a turn under the guise of lessons we need to learn then expecting forgiveness that isn't earned Acting like you have all the information to judge and steer all the conversations So sure your manipulation isn't seen making sure your hands stay clean Starting gossip ,spreading false rumors you are just like every other abuser It took me a while, but I can see you are living in a ****** up reality When you die alone ,and you will be exactly where you deserve to be
Jun 28, 2025
Jun 28, 2025 at 1:25 AM UTC
he sandbagged
mocked
stalked
and lied
he never loved
or cared
or told the truth
or tried
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 8:22 AM UTC
He deserves a dead beating
For justice sake
Everything I hear about him
Makes me want to punch his face
Not just once,
Not twice,
But as many times as it takes
To put that guy in his place
Some dudes act so rudely
Because they've never been beaten
I have been,
I know pain,
I've been defeated,
AND above all, I have learned RESPECT
So let me tell ya,
If I ever see that boy
He will become my punching bag
My fist his wakeup toy
Jul 1, 2024
Jul 1, 2024 at 2:22 PM UTC
(who blew the bulb ?) everywhere is bright everything is eyes can't see you in your mirror-mail-shard suit i'm blinded / bladed / paraded to the roots / hear this chime ? / this overwhelming chime / it's in all the things but has predatory gut / it’s not vital / it’s hurt / spumming out allure evident byproduct you've stuffed it all down clutted all the drains of your fawning audience burning hair compounded the body with capillary blain / majesty, your maj-jest-tea ; it’s dishonesty ; you are what you are but you don't want to be-(you're not pleased) get you down from there sire ( if-you-please ) and grow an honest hovel / everything’s on discount ************* discount it's a travesty you are a misery (dismount) you were far from what you harm now you keep it close you snake just like a charmer / you slither you basket you rascal piping lewd at the tourist youths / such a hassle / bring on photography the *********** it's embarrassing it’s emm-bhar-rass-sing (who blew the bulb ?)
Dec 31, 2023
Dec 31, 2023 at 6:18 PM UTC
You do it a
little at a time.
You start a holocaust at
5:30 am, over your
sausage and instant
coffee.
You do it with
your small hatred
and your snide
comments--your prideful
looks at the ***** man
with no shoes.
You do it in
one moment, by not
calling your dying
brother
over childhood
trivialities.
You do it by gassing
the goldfish, flushing love
down the toilet;
clogging the sewers with
your hatred and
malevolence.
You watch the green
grass die and the ants
drown, while you
smile over your
newspaper, and plot
your next hostile
takeover.
You did it when
you punched the
dog, and pinched
the child.
You do it when
you smile.
You're a mean
one Mr. Finch,
Mrs. Jones,
Mr. Smith.
But guess what?
You are dying alone.
Every day, every second,
and the moon and the
sun and the stars
celebrate your demise
and so do I.
You've never lost
any thing.
To loose, you must be
found.
You have to have a
bit of gamble in you.
You don't.
You're as useless
as an eel in
a quiche.
Oct 31, 2023
Oct 31, 2023 at 10:51 PM UTC
She saw him
My mother saw him her abuser
Eye to eye they stared at each other
For him to laugh and look down in embarrassment
For her to leave all shaken up
Now her kids are too terrified to leave home
Incase they see him...
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 5:59 PM UTC
It's HIS birthday today
THE MAN who ruiend me
he was meant to be my DADDY
Not my abuser
Why did GOD
Have to create him....
Sep 22, 2020
Sep 22, 2020 at 3:38 PM UTC
They say “use your voice”
What they don’t realize is that my voice is deep within my stomach
And I cannot find it
How can I find the words to explain what I’ve been through
And how I’m feeling when I’m in fear
Fearing I’d only be laughed at
Being afraid that nobody would believe me
And only believe my abuser
How can I compete with someone who is far much older than me
Because I’m just a “child who doesn’t know what she’s talking about”
So the only friend I have is my silence
Because she understands everything I’m going through
And I don’t have to say a word to her
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 2:13 AM UTC
AAHHHHHHH
ahhhH
AHH
AH
A
PIECE OF ME IS BITING
AND ITS CRYING INTO MY FLESH
I CANT STOP BEATING MYSELF INTO DEATH
MAKE IT STOP YOU ******* ****
I WANT THE NEEDLES TO STOP PIERCING
I WANT MY GUMS TO STOP BLEEDING
BREATHE DEEPER AND DEEPER
I WANT SOMEONE INSIDE ME
FEEL MY PAIN FOR A CHANGE
WHILE I TAKE YOUR WHORISH PLEASURE
IM SEARCHING FOR TREASURE
ITS BLOOD AND GUTS ANS MEN
TALL DARK DRUGGED UP
GIVE ME A HIGH
I'VE BEEN TOO LOW IN LIFE
IM DISGUSTING
IM MUTANT
IM GRUESOME
TAKE MY ARMS AND BREAK THEM
TAKE MY NECK AND CRACK ME OPEN
**** MY INSIDES
IM ****** UP
MY HOLES ARE BURNT
MY HEART IS GONE
SPIDERS CRAWL UPON ME
I SCREAM AND SEEK SANITY
H E L P
H E L P
H E L
H E
H E HURT ME UNTIL I DIED
I DON'T REMEMEBR BEING BORN
I ONLY KNOW DEATH
AND THE TASTE OF YOUR BREATH
ASHXHXJ[DJDNKDJDM_FN!DN]
Djsksnsn
DksoJSJSNSNS
SKSKSKS
SJSISOI
AISSK
Aisji
Fhi
Di
I break down and break down
Into meaningless nonsene.
I pray that one day it'll calm down
And form meaning behind the scrambled
Maybe even the smallest amount of peace
All I can say is please
Oh God please
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 3:31 AM UTC
So many can never find the words, the feelings,
because if they speak, what they know
It becomes a solidified highlight reel,
and not just a spiel, a tale told in the confines of safety to a person with a ticket that transforms them into the audience.
They devour the reel of desperation and despair,
The hurt child deep inside that starts through the mind, and leaks through the pours of your adult body, it paralyses you with fear, ruins your relationships, destroys the peaceful nights and waking moments.
It slaps you with a ghost hand and phantom pain, reaching from the past to remind you in the present that it still lingers,
they are still there and they always will be, that it is their job to inflict pain.
Just one moment, one semblance of safety, is when the person with the ticket shows up to your screening, reaches for that ghost hand, and instead of twisting and pushing it away like you always beg, plead and scream to do
they grab the hand, hold it and say:
"This trauma is real, not a show, not a highlight reel, I will guide your scenes, your desperate cries and pleas, and I will help your child heal"
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 4:51 AM UTC
There are cuts and bruises no one sees.
Hurt between the kisses you give to please.
At first we met your affection seemed so deep.
You overwhelmed me into my love sleep.
Adoration was given to and in return.
You found your saviour, but soon your heart would turn.
I was a white knight on a tall hill.
I was happy & confident, I was never still.
My armour was silver, my helm in gold.
I had even become brave and bold.
You were a Princess in a dark cage.
Little did I know it was made by your rage.
Your past full of monsters and a traitor.
How I would regret not seeing the truth until much later.
I came forward and shone a light on the key.
I told you, that you were brave and strong and to let yourself be free.
Joined together burning bright.
I never knew being with someone else could feel so right.
Our love was passion, a blazing fire.
Any sorrow, I thought, was left on the pyre.
But when love burns bright, a lesson learnt.
The greater a love, the easier it is to get burnt.
When some had been hurt to their very core.
It is true, that love, they can accept no more.
A dark side of your character, you kept all too hidden.
Your deepest heart I was kept out and forbidden.
For how can you truly love without being vulnerable.
Meanwhile my love for you was unassailable.
The first few cuts I knew!
Why would you do this?
Even if it was but a few.
When I raised my voice at what was amiss,
You calmed my doubts and sealed them away with a kiss.
For a while all was fine.
But the cuts came again, one at a time.
It was wrong, it was wrong, this I knew.
But my love for you just kept saying; it is all but a few.
You only hurt me like this, when you felt scared and alone.
All would be fine, I said, as long as you knew I was your own.
Any query or doubt that came to my mind.
You brushed it aside for me never to find.
Cuts came deeper than ever before.
Yet I protected you from all others, even as I became sore.
My friends and family, you pushed them away.
By subtle pressure or by storms a-fray.
Again and again, I was never enough.
So you cut me and bruised me and treated me rough.
Never a mark you left on my clear skin.
But inside you tore me apart until I became thin.
My armour that you once found so bright.
You pointed out every mark and scratch in sight.
Chip, chip away at my very soul.
Because it was all about you at every toll.
You broke my sword and shattered my shield.
Diminished and weakened you cast me on the field.
The monsters you had ran from, were all inside.
They came out to greet me and wash me away with the tide.
You were like a vast ocean, a passionate storm.
But you were wide and shallow, not deep in form.
I stood and I stood amongst the swell.
But what ever I did it could never end well.
You told me of all the people who had let you down,
But battered and broken I still held up your crown,
But in the end the dark empty place inside,
No love could fill it, no matter how hard I tried.
You walked away- back to your cage, saying it was never right.
But what happened to your fair and wonderful knight.
Laying in his armour broken and battered.
So came forth his friends and his family and everyone who mattered.
They took it all away to heal his heart,
But all they found was ash at the start.
As they held the ash in their hands,
An ember they found in the black sands.
They protected it from wind and the storm.
Hoping against hope that one day their knight would be reborn.
At first the light was still.
Twice it nearly flickered to nil.
But caring patience won the day,
With love and protection a spark lit up the grey.
First once and then twice, before born again a tender flame.
Silently in the darkness they whispered his secret name.
The little flame that was lit,
Still fragile and ready to quit.
But with every passing hour,
Little flame rose taller like a tower.
After countless time as a little light,
It Turned to the stars and shone bright,
A blazing fire lighting up the night.
From the shadowed prison bound,
A dark thing wept without a sound.
The fair knight stood once more on a hill.
A blazing light that stood still.
Through the darkness of its own veil,
The creature sat interned and pale.
Waiting for her new knight,
Or a monster she could blame with spite.
All the while she hid her eyes,
Knowing not to look up into the skies.
For high above stood a knight so bright,
His world no longer a terrible blight.
Surrounded by friends, love and glory.
This is the truth, my life, my story.
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 9:32 AM UTC
Tired of feeling so,
like the bludgeoning is false.
Memories,
feel as though they're paraphrased.
Jumping from possess to obsess,
the satire of loathing,
only posses the owner of memory.
Ridiculing self, ridiculing self,
righteously juxtaposing pain with
a tyrant.
The one who mourns being one.
Passion has lost its fashion,
but what does it qualify as?
A pained soul with another?
A pained soul destroying another?
Realize this,
the memory changes,
it becomes vague.
But,
does it lose validity?
You're the one who suffers.
No the one who made you.
Treat the end of pain,
like the end of yourself.
A lost,
and dreary,
memory,
not seen clearly.
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC
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 dizzy...no 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.
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 12:37 AM UTC
I would be lying
if I told you
that you were special to me,
because whether its
you
or
him
holding me in the earliest hours
of the morning
the only thing that matters to me
is that
I am being held,
love to me is much less
significant
much less personal
than it used to be
if its anything to me at all
its feeling desired
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 7:33 AM UTC
He's a self indulgent pig, a piece of ****
you should of seen from the start,
I stared at him but did not judge,
though I did silently;
choosing to believe
the lie you sold yourself -
but he still did it anyway, didn't he?
'Thwack'
The Pig squeals
"A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all fall down"
In that moment you should of ran,
faster than any muscle of man,
but you didn't did you? You made excuses, covered his tracks,
"He's sorry"
tell me where are you now?
hmm, Where are you now?
I ponder with pen at this late hour.
Irrelevant,
Is he Man?
Or an Obscene NurglePig-
"Worse than that, so End it" I said.
"He's sorry"
My eyes rolled deepset and ****** into the back of my head
for a lifeless eternity;
when those words left your lips,
I saw how weak you could truly be-
It horrified me.
The weakness of women, just another broken dame;
If I still yet had a heart that pulsed
I'd chuckle, Grimly, then maybe
- cry alone to forgot,
Thanks for that.
If you want a blunt that doesn't bruise - Truth.
Formless of agenda,
swallow this pill and listen;
Let's see-
you didn't run did you?
You stayed clawed to floor,
I had to soothe your sores, and talk;
Listen to your woes, another year.
of tolerating presence, burning eyes,
burnt.
I'm not sorry for what he did, if it wasn't me why would I be?
Maybe not so much now. I buried it, It's forgotten, sadly buried,
another woman's secret I'll add to my portfolio;
something that somehow become my responsibility to bear.
Guess what- stopped caring, Keep your own, Adults.
There will come a day I won't be at the bottom
of the stairs he threw you down,
commonly scarred and mottled, broken in my garden,
Weeping, the reasons plainly evident -
a piglet's insecurity.
And I'll just be standing there in a dark room beating his filthy
******* face into a puddle of pulp,
then the pulp into a puddle,
then the puddle to chunks for the endless void,
grab that final chunk of flesh and throw the empty
carcass to the ******* dogs.
The dead pig revealed, screaming in agony
pathetic red stain on the floor,
more gore than the heaviest flow.
How's that for a show?
Best show ever, Period.
Bye for now, and don't take me for a fool;
Your compassionate tool-
Because I am not that,
and neither are you.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 10:10 PM UTC
i told you i wanted forever so this ones for you
whenever i look down i see them all in my skin
the stomach scars from when he yelled at me
"stop eating all that junk food so late"
the burn mark from when she left me in the cold "i'm sorry i can't do this i have to go"
the new red ones on my thigh where you touched
"she didn't mean anything i swear"
stuck on my body forever
but never important enough to be ink
i told you i wanted forever
so now this blood is on your hands
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 12:12 AM UTC
A part of me became a fiend;
A treasurer that left my sleeves
To find the shiny end to all his dreams.
The flying of his lash upon the sphere
Has caused my own to go numb.
Twisted fingers wilting in the sun,
Prying apart the singing Son of Heads
With all his bleeding life; he was found dead.
A proud disease was born a sheep.
Guided by a shepherd's hand to show its face across the desert sand
Until he dropped the leash.
Wild poison spilled upon the civil streets.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 9:53 PM UTC
It wasn't like we meant to waste our time.
He just seem to have way to do that to you, without a second thought, he would **** it all out of you.
In the beginning you didn't even recognize it as abuse, and said "It only happened once." and "He didn't mean what he said." but we all know it happened again, and we all knew he meant every word.
In the moment we adored the attention, but when the fights broke out, it was as if he looked at us as machines, when in reality he was the machine, the robot, heartless and emotionless.
After you apologized for his mistake, you smiled and then he hugged you, but little did he know once he couldn't see your face, the smile faded and the frown grew.
You friends warned you of him and begged you to gain the self respect to leave, but you felt like you deserved it, because every fight seemed to be your fault or that maybe if you weren't the way you were it wouldn't have happened. You're constantly telling people you're fine and deep down you know you repeat it so much to convince yourself, not them.
So you're stuck, stuck with him. No matter how much your brain begs you to leave, your heart always hangs on to the pointless reasons to stay.
And in the end we know we didn't do it for ourselves, we did it for him, the abuser.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC
I was a puppet and you were my master
pulling my strings and controlling my acts, I was set up for disaster.
You moulded my identity and sense of self with your foul abuse,
every day that you'd force yourself upon me was a fight I'd always lose.
You took from me my individuality and my innocence too
and placed despondency in its place with my childhood falling through
but I am not fully broken and you no longer have control over me
and I am rebuilding myself back up and better I will be.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 3:40 PM UTC
Ring around the rosy
Pockets full of posies
Ashes, ashes
We all fall down
Ring around the rosy
Pockets full of posies
Ashes, ashes
My pants go down
My pants go down
And I am pushed against a tree
No one is around
It's only you and me
It's only you and me
And I can't find my voice
I struggle to get free
But I am only a little girl
I am only a little girl
In a white little dress
Your hungry eyes watch me twirl
Your hungry eyes my body undress
Your hungry eyes my body undress
Until your hands are on me
I am afraid to confess
These crimes committed to me
These crimes committed to me
In the dark and in the light
But how can it be
That I still see your face at night
I still see your face at night
As I pass through the hidden alley
I try to run at the speed of light
Those places are my death valley
Those places are my death valley
Gravestone of memories
Of pain I cannot describe verbally
Of times I was in misery
Of times I was in misery
That would follow me for years
I'm not asking for sympathy
Just for you to understand my tears
The tears of a little girl
Whose eyes were bright brown
Innocence white as a pearl
Before you tore her gown
Before you tore her gown
When they trusted you
When no one was around
When I trusted you, too
You caused me to hate
Every place that I loved
To be home as early at eight
Even to fear the darkness I loved
You are the fear in my eyes
When a man stares too long
You are all of the guys
I am afraid to let tag along
You are the shudders
When they touch me
You are the years
Spent in therapy
You are the crack
In my voice
You are the solitude
In which I rejoice
I am no longer a little girl
And now I can speak
My lips I let curl
Into a smile, though it is weak
I am no longer weak
I have learned to ****
It is because of you
I have mastered this skill
I will skin
Any man who dares touch
Who dares put anything in
Any little girl or such
I no longer fear you
It is you who will learn to fear me
For, believe me, I am through
Letting pigs like you run free
To the little girls out there
I solemnly swear
To protect your life
With tooth, nail and knife
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 11:58 PM UTC
this whole year I have talked to girls in my **school,
girls** who wouldn't do things together,
even come together or even talk,
but now were talking,
we've talked,
because the school has lied to us about all these little boy's ****
and how the boys are allowed to bruise our body's,
steel our souls like it's a game,
why was he allowed?
to get away with it,
because the school and policemen played this game like ****** fools,
and they too encouraged the assault and abuse,
to girls in the hall, or walking to school up the street,
even to girls in cafeterias,
afterschool,
were perfumes of pretty girls were stolen by high school boys,
as they laid on cafeteria floors,
the only scent left was the old lunchroom food stench,
and the high school boy's,
***** *** sweat,*
but you belived closeing the doors to the lunchroom,
afterhours,
will stop future harm,
but closeing a door,
wont give a **** victim** closer,
espesally when the game continues,
and the odds are stacked up against the women,
where to walk from class to class,
becomes a danger,
and a threat,
because girls who I go to school with have stopped wearing,
that **** red dress*,
or tub tops, cutshirts, short shorts,
anything that,
could get you hurt,
because the girls who I go to school with have to wear,
there daddys sweatshirt and *sweatpants,
covering* their whole body's while trying to say,
**"Im not ****
"Don't pick me,"**
they are screaming their hopes,
of "Don't Pick Me's" because of the game,
the game of slapping *****
in the man packs of fives,
to the one girl trying to get to her next class by herself,
the school grounds are no longer a place that's safe,
where you have to know every corner that has a missing camera,
or one turned off,
or if the man pack pull you into the bathroom,
and take off your top,
you're going to be the one,
who gets the book thrown at them,
because the five boys,
pulled the one of you,
into the boys bathroom,
and it doesn't matter why,
or how you got there,
cause school doesn't care,
tells you that you are wrong,
and it's all your fault,
and the five to pull you in,
walk around the school all day,
getting talked up,
like they rolled snake eyes on a pair of six's,
as your stuck like a prisoner in the office trying almost begging,
for some sort of justice,
and every time you talk,
there replys make you feel like a ****
but you just want to call your mom,
and they wont let you,
so you have to sit and wait, and,
you don't remember if they took your picture & got it with your face,
but you can remember each and everyone of there faces,
like there the only faces a blind person will ever see,
as if there horrible image can't get away from you,
you try,
because you should only see beauty,
though blind eyes,
and your eyes have been scorned,
because five boys tore one girls shirt,
and these boys play the game,
the game of **** and let me take her picture without her consent,
but that's not even all their rules,
because if they don't do that to you,
they publicly shame you,
they come up to you,
slap **your *** so hard,
you instantly see a bruise,
and you have to tell your mother when you get home,
and she has to take pictures of it,
take you to the police station,
where they tell you,
the school should of just handled it,
and in a town so ******* worried about pills,
and drugs,
maybe they should worry about the game they taught their sons,
because the girls may pop pills and drink underanged,
but does that give a man an excuse,
to commit a ****
and I know it's not just the girls who suffer the most,
I feel though it all,
the guys who have gotten the worse treatment,
kept what happened hidden,
because girls are smart,
and we know all the men got away with it,
so if one or two girls wanna **** a dude,
you think our police or school will do **** for the dudes too?
if anything they'd get publicly shamed,
and what high school boy wants that,
when they were taught to play a game,
and someone,
*played the same ****
on them.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC