#selfsacrifice
You have brought me joy.
You have brought me pain.
I have nothing to gain.
I'm just a pen to you.
Losing ink as you write.
I have no might,
to say I'm not alright.
I love you till I sink,
even if you waste my ink.
5d ago
May 30, 2026 at 12:37 AM UTC
“i bite you
and my teeth
sink deep
i silently hope that
my violence keeps
you away
but you don’t stop
to pick my canines
out of your flesh
you just pet my head
and tell me that
you’re not mad
so i bite again
because maybe then
you’ll see that i don’t
bite to protect myself
i do it to protect you.”
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 12:59 PM UTC
My head is turning,
my stomach is churning,
my tears are spinning off my nose.
My tears onto the page like the blood running from my veins.
Words hurt,
yours hurt worse though,
with no apology, no delay.
You know just what to say to cut right through my veins.
But you say you spare my arteries because you love me in your own rare way.
May 21
May 21, 2026 at 12:54 PM UTC
rainy lining
covers this term
a fleeting
rainstorm
dreams made of reality
crumble
under lack of creativity
rain starts to fumble
a slipping
raining
fact - a song
a text all along
it’s all the same
white it’s all white
a fate
of mine
i ran through
the rain
for your pain
thought i might gain
that ephemeral
feeling of light
of helping another’s might
so momental
i tried
yet it’s all rainy
i thought it would have worked
yet rain feels blurry
guess it’s my flaw
of wanting the sky
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 4:05 AM UTC
Hi,
I want to take your children
I want to take them away from this bitter piece of **** of a country
that would rather use their bright minds
as shiny targets–
and use excuses for the departed as a way
to push religion for the hands of politicians
who went to church once when they were three
for a baptism they sure as hell hope now
was enough to wash away the sins that soak in their hands
in the form of child's blood.
While there are single parents who tie the
shoes tight of their little ones,
So they won’t be gunned down in the case that they have to run
far into the tree line becoming
lost boys and little girls,
before they’re
lost souls and gravestones.
And this is a robbery
because I’m tired of having precious lives robbed from me
by a nation run by rich white men in black cloaks
waiting to **** the blood from you but hey,
the thirty cents in your pocket is good too.
I wonder how fast they could run from a gun
with their wallets weighted wetter than the fat sponge
a daughter uses to cleanse her elderly mother
of the burden of a life well fought
under the capitalist oppressiveness
before she throws herself off a precipice so her
children can use the life insurance, for rent money
And yes I looked up the word precipice for this.
And at the end the definition says a cliff.
And specifies: “especially a tall one”
and it works well for this because Yes!
It was a tall one,
the tallest one.
And as she walks off
and begins
the long
fall,
She thinks about her daughter's first steps,
how she walked so softly into her heart
and she felt for the first time–
A deep dread.
As she knew,
that she could never protect
those innocent little hands
that cupped her face as she reached her,
from this broken
world.
And all she thinks to herself before her bones become the ground is:
God, please,
save her.
Nov 19, 2025
Nov 19, 2025 at 11:23 AM UTC
She smiles, she wants me
to take the tastiest fruit --
The holy martyr!
Oct 28, 2025
Oct 28, 2025 at 4:54 AM UTC
Altyd ’n grappie of ’n storie,
keer op keer het jy jouself neergelê,
sodat ander kon lag,
sodat ander kon leef.
Met ’n gebreekte hart perdjie-perdjie gespeel,
met ’n komplekse psige jouself gedeel.
Keer op keer vir klein kindertjies se lag,
jy — die gebreekte spieël van jou lewe,
stukkies van die donker nag,
stukkies van onvergeetbare pret.
In die groter prentjie — ’n kunswerk,
fragmente van jou liefde diep geanker
in ons harte.
’n Man sonder krag,
wat oor en oor en oor
stukkies van homself gegee het.
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 7:02 AM UTC
I burn
and I burn
and burn.
Everyone loves it
when I burn for them.
They enjoy the warmth I give.
I burn and I burn,
yet no one burns for me.
Why keep burning then?
The answer is simple:
I don’t know how else to love.
I burn and I burn
until I can’t
anymore.
Jun 30, 2025
Jun 30, 2025 at 1:11 PM UTC
Impale and gut me until I cough up the last of my wilting pansies,
Hack at the bark of my bones until they cease,
If need be, I'll listen to each word of your tirade,
Let my body take the blows to suffice yours with aid,
I'll let your sirens song of projection take me, full force,
Yes, I'm aware, it'll only end in the crucifixion of my walking corpse,
Indulge in mutilating me with the bullets of your throat,
I'll smile, looking down the barrel, even if the pistol of your tongue is no gloat,
Even when each sentence tears my tendons, I'll gladly let it lurch deeper into my innards,
I'll welcome a stream of crimson when my organs still sob blood afterwards,
I'll make space for the landfill in the core of my vessel,
If it makes you content, I'll plant your anguish in my soil, let it nestle,
Rips in my neck, I still I want you, have your sanctuary,
Rot the embers of my heart, you'll finally get your fantasy,
Don't shed worry for me,
It never hurt.
Dec 12, 2024
Dec 12, 2024 at 12:32 PM UTC
Every time I sacrifice my happiness
And devote myself entirely
Just to bring a grin on your little face
I realise,
The sacrifices my mother made
Were prodigious as compared to all I do for you.
The realization of my ‘self-sacrifice’,
Took me back to the days when your sacrifices meant nothing to me
And I hold deep remorse, mother.
It’s now that I know,
Sacrifices are what you made
Adjustments are what I’ve ever managed to do.
Jul 29, 2020
Jul 29, 2020 at 1:41 AM UTC
With the same pen and paper as the last love letter I wrote, I now write this.
PREAMBLE:
Everyday he'll suffer in silence and I'll be content with the thought. The same hand that wrote loving words is the same hand that brought tears to his eyes.
Over betrayal and deceit hidden in plain view with a longing of decadence and validation.
BODY:
He choose carefully, or so he thought - the wounded of the flock.
But he knew...somehow that I was different.
Unable to be read like a simple book, I am that of an enigma to most, alluring to others.
I could have loved that side of him -- the part unrestrained by persona. The damaged part, carefully tucked away.
But the beast must be fed by the tears of the innocent,
a pervasive pattern of loving women he made love him back.
He fed his soul with their sadness.
For he deceived them for proof of love and in it, he destroyed himself.
Day by day, he'll look at me and realize, like the last - he was wrong.
That someone had cared and someone was hurt, and that was not I.
And I am grateful -
for not loving a traitor.
To his own cause or mine.
Because every time he looks for validation in the tears of others.
I will not be there
and he will not find me.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 7:06 PM UTC
Take me death, I don't have a life to live.
He is only 15 but I feel the weight of ages upon my shoulders.
HE still has a life to live, to love, to laugh, to cry.
Take me death, I cannot bear too much, take me, death, I've had enough.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 2:47 PM UTC