"accommodating" poems
I’m a woman with some attitude--
not one who will dispense a platitude.
Chicken soup won’t give you soul;
from me, it’ll get you an eye roll.
You try to mask your disapproving looks
with sanctimonious advice from large print books:
“Embrace the moment” “Be grateful” and “Breathe”
“Pray” “See only the good” “Turn the other cheek”
“Accept others’ flaws” “Don’t criticize”--
I have some advice that’s a bit more wise:
“Don’t put up with ******** “Embrace your outrage."
While you were living in the “present,” history turned the page.
God is Dead, you’ve got to take charge;
you’ve been scammed by crooks in suits, who live large.
People aren’t so good; sometimes they’re ****
They’ve pulled the rug out from under where you sit.
Don’t accept others’ flaws; tell them to go to hell.
If you’re really mad, don’t breathe, just yell.
Anger is good, it’s there for a reason.
You’re just a phony, with your people pleasin’.
Get off your **** and take some action--
stick it to the jerks, join the radical faction.
Accommodating ******** just brings on more--
just wait, and you’ll see what’s next in store.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 10:44 PM UTC
Who knew that getting a Starbucks gift card would turn out so harmful and mean.
When pleasant, harmless, innocent me fell for the spell of treacherous caffeine.
Like a hype with a spike
doing harm to his arm
I was hooked.
Leaped before I looked,
goose was cooked.
Now I'm here to play the blame game.
Innocent me, walking in free, joyfully,
just getting a coffee.
Then wham!
or should I say bam!
It hit me.
I walked out a quivering, craving, slobbering creature...
maybe not literally but like I said it was done treacherously, maliciously, instantaneously, I was a caffeine *****
So here are some of the reasons why I'm unhappy with Starbucks:
--- Starbucks caffeine influenced my body by elevating my heart rate (I'm not sure why I expected anything different).
--- Starbucks crafty, subtley and slyly habitualized me ( Oh god, I'm a creature of habit!)
--- Starbucks (If possible) is too friendly
--- Starbucks manipulated my accommodating nature (I just wanted to be friends, but now they feel more like, dare I say it... family).
--- Starbucks slandered me ( by assuming I'm lazy. "Sit, relax, make yourself at home, stay as long as you like").
--- Starbucks exposed my weaknesses ( l feel naked to coffees influence).
--- Starbucks made coffee hip and cool (I'm going to go ahead and count that as a bad thing).
--- Starbucks crippled my will power (my will power walks with a limp now).
--- Starbucks blew up the sun!
--- And the final reason I'm unhappy with Starbucks...because they're probably going to sue my *** for writing this!
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 4:44 PM UTC
We're mostly gregarious and polite,
Like most of you.
We too have our diplomatic trips 'n bumps;
We never cozied to Dicky;
But welcomed ex-pat refugees
For safe and sound reasons.
After the jimmy-rigging, how many re-pated?
And we gagged on the impeachables, all fuzzy and bitter.
He called the father *that ******* in Ottawa;*
And Pierre wore that moniker like The Order of Canada.
When you're not liked by one, you're a dove.
You should visit CANDU.wow
It has it all.
How is Supreme Leader managing?
Are his...
Are my people... sitting at attention.
We could real news a bomb a la Kim Jong,
Or flip a stone down at Port Huron.
We won't.
But we could if we weren't
The Great White North, so accommodating, so polite,
So Coo loo coo coo coo coo coo cooo! nice...
(for now)
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 11:27 AM UTC
is it love
or the parasite ?
my pilot bulk
aims for relief
it pursues this via
your romantic correction
in public arena
a library stair
(i never prior encountered you)
one step as foreigner
the approach
and upon a swift internal pendulum
i make witless incisions
hurried mended sentences
directed stuns
invasive
i demand the compromise
of your company
hastily push at boundaries and
you're not so accommodating
but
on a further occasion
same building
we exchange a battering of conversation
that
then
matures
into barter-like use of language
despite my harassments
a civil cultivation is unearthed
tongue within this intelligence effort i lessen
loosen my demanding appearance
disregard my dignity
a skin suit about the ankles
you're open in a vein of similarity
you flesh out your own controls
we've progressed quickly
there's an aped conduct
and flashing attitudes
this time we share table space
a nearby café
we have become quite unmanned
repeated meet ups
upon humours we adjust small habits
and shake on perceptions where we overlap
it becomes
more an overlay of rationalities
than resented promises
fast time passes and
i move into your living space
i pick a wildflower
and put it in the tiny vase on your dining table
we agree on its colour
we agree on a book to make our bible material
we agree on the pitch of the tinnitus we share
the clothes i am to wear
i switch to your diet
and you cease taking medications
we sleep on your lawn like children
and bring down the night sky for comfort
during the day we wear our sleep
like a lubrication for our chores
and go about our productivity
in genuine partnership
yet
i feel we're just out of reach
of some dark harm
we are an excellent sample pair
it is all vital
we grow stronger the more we quiz it
recycling our **********
refine our agreements
await further impulses
and come closer to plug
so..
do we please love
or simply indulge a parasite ?
Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 10:28 PM UTC
There will never be a sweeter sound than that of a whispered plea from a submissive, floating from her tender lips echoing back off the walls and finding it's way into his accommodating soul behind her.It is that single word alone that keeps him spellbound heightening all of his senses for as long as she will let him love her freely .
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 12:19 AM UTC
they said he should submit this
make submissions and do readings
this is the way it’s been done
for many years
but he didn’t really want to
a couple of rejections left him weary
and he’s a writer not a performer
the contests say “all styles and subjects”
but surely they have criteria
not this one
not this one
this one
the all inclusiveness is a lie
the judges know what they want
he wished they’d be up front and specific
but it’s all about the entry fee
they pretend to be seeders
offering everyone a chance
to grow and bloom
but they’re actually weeders
quickly quashing poems
rubber stamped with doom
they never really stood a chance
because it’s all about the entry fee
“Don’t self publish”, they said
“You’ll regret it”
he did the design and layout anyway
“Can ‘we’ make changes to the cover?”
who the hell is “we”?
this is his book?
sure he wanted sales
that’s what publishing is about
but sink or swim
he wanted his book, his way
especially his first book
and he’s a stubborn *******
the internet is accommodating
this IT age makes it easier
the process has been long
with glitches and obstacles
doubt and procrastination
but the would be destination was worthy
available at amazon
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
A fruit and vegetable vendor,
simple and humble,
Always seen with his handcart,
alongside the road, which was parked.
On my way back
from the gym,
Bought the fruits and vegetables
daily from him.
**Neither the quality!
Nor the variety!!**
But his greetings "Namaste Didi" with that innocent smile,
caught my attention for a while.
That friendly gesture
made me feel familiar.
Balming the lonely and tired soul,
in the foreign soil,
in this city of strangers,
accommodating many dwellers.
While lost in own thoughts,
or busy in the cell-phone chats.
But this simple guy never failed,
seeing me come, he sweetly hailed.
"Namaste Didi"
Once, when I resumed
after a vacation,
Found dozers, excavators
busy in construction.
An all new road, footpath
for beautification,
It's the "smart city" project's
much awaited implementation.
I realized, that something was amiss!
"Namaste Didi", welcoming, friendly voice!
I looked for him all around,
Standing near a pole, he was found.
Neither cheerful, nor fruit or vegetable?
Uttered him, now the business not feasible.
Not allowed to park his cart anywhere,
As "The Smart City Mission" started here.
Go to the big stores now,
for the daily needs,
Roadside vendors
pulled out like weeds.
Neither friendly smile, nor simplicity!
"Namaste Didi" swallowed by "the smart city"!!
Do we really need a "smart city",
or simply a city?
addressing the needs of all,
retaining its simplicity.
The social warmth
and existing friendliness,
Accommodating all
with self sustenance.
**Isn't socialism, just a myth!
No offence, this way I think!!**
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 5:45 AM UTC
Can I illustrate beauty
without the help of my eyes?
Will I be able to see the sunlight
the clouds floating above
the marvel of the skies?
Having tried it and succeeded
I was absorbed with fascination.
The blind described as unfortunates
yet now I can enjoy the mystery of touch
become suspended with satisfaction.
I can touch anything with my eyes folded
from animals and other objects.
yet the human bodies are far better
they’re so warm and so soft
can’t be compared with other subjects.
Feeling bodies so atmospheric and tense
especially the sensation of a woman’s skin.
The touch of women’s flesh befitted my addiction
their faces, hips, thighs and legs
fondling them like playing the violin.
Touching flesh became my fixation
spending most time contemplating the feeling.
Night and days eyes shut in darkness
caressing bodies in my over imaginative mind
satisfactory, but not so accommodating.
Pictures, portraits and views for the eye
soft sounds, loud sounds for the ear and the mind.
I have touched pots and pans, table and chairs
establishing for good the power of feeling
the forbidden touch prudently refined.
----------
I didn’t notice anything not around me
I felt my whole behaviour very strange.
I was crouched at the foot of her body
what happened next was totally unexpected
it seemed my body was about to interchange.
My body was becoming entangled with hers
it felt like my hands and hers were divine.
Every time I touched her face I felt it on mine
same with messaging her thighs, stroking her legs
so frightened it sent shivers down my spine.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
She comes to me
bleeding inside
from a thousand
individual scars
with pleading eyes
self contained
She speaks in gentle
refrains
"I don't know where
I'm going
I don't know who
I've become
I go through the motions
deaf, blind and dumb
I dance on cue
I stand in line
I've tried to be so
good.
I've left behind the darkness
I've forgiven the past
I'm far too aware of time
It doesn't matter really I don't mind
I wish I could tell
you what I find
The struggle between
my internal world
condemnation
irritability
judgement
fears
heartaches there, vile rages, petty hatreds
*** dancing on the head of a
pin
exquisite laughter
it's all there.
While my behavior is quite the
opposite
accommodating, loving, compassionate
flirtatious, curious
connection is my goal
When I'm alone I'm lonely
when together suffocated
the best distance is
from here to there
I wish I could tell
you that I mind
The storms still
come and go
luck rides the
tides
each day the
sunrise
This human stuff
is all too real
it creeps up on you
so you don't know
how you feel
Which is why I've
come to you to
speak my mind
they say you are the
complaint department
the garbage collector
I'm bleeding inside
from a thousand scars
that's not to say I really mind."
They say the healer
must heal themselves
so of course I ask
"How can I help you?"
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
Am made of black
Am a true symbol of a black
Strong
Powerful
Black is independent
Black is determined
Black is original never fades
Black remains consistent forever
Am made of black
Black is an attitude
Black is beautiful
Black is love
Black don't discriminate
Black accepts you for who you are
Irrespective of your race,color and religion
Am made of black
Black is patient
Black is caring
Black is accommodating
Black is brilliant
Black is intelligent
Am made of black
Black lives with you
Black inspires you
Black motivates you
Black is a leader not a ruler (Nelson mandela)
Black is an activist(martin luther king Jr)
Black is a rapper(2pac)
Black is a sprinter(Usan Bolt)
Black is a footballer(George Weah
Black is a singer(Akon)
Black is a poet(Me and myself)
Black is a friend(Akanbi Olawale)
We are blacks we are more
Black is made of more
I am made of more
I am original
I am beautiful
I am powerful
I am attractive
I am charming -----do you know why?
Because am made of black...
Am made of more ...
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC
It's like right from wrong becomes irrelevant when it comes down to the person you love. You know you're not being treated how u should but you ignore it, due to pure fear of loosing them or simply not having them. I know I should be number 1 but I'm accommodating to less than that because of love? Is it love? Or is it the desire of something forbidden.
This pain is paralyzing.
I need her.
I want her.
If I think about how her arms,
How her body completely held mine I can still feel it.
I can still smell her scent.
I cry. The exact same tears I shed as she held me.
Emotional overwhelment.
difference is, I'm actually alone.
She's not holding me anymore.
She has her own person. So she can survive without me.
I was just a distraction.
Yet she still acts and Perseus and brainwashes me as if I were superior to her number 1.
It's all so messed up, it's all so degrading, and simply wrong,
And I am choosing to ignore it.
Which is also wrong.
But how could I not talk to her? How could I cut her out when she's crawled in so deep.
I need to get her out. And keep her out.
I am not the other woman.
I have my flaws. But my potential is not of thee to be in this position.
So I scream
**** her I don't need her I can do this"
In hopes of one day believing it.
Maybe one day her voice won't make me melt.
Maybe one day this will all just be a memory just as every other person, who has come into my world and left with pieces leaving me with less of myself.
Maybe.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 2:15 AM UTC
love has turned to frustration
and little things have begun to collect
like plastic floating in the whirl-pooling currents of the ocean
a small raft built to protect myself
to stay afloat
after treading, nearly drowning in the swirling masses
keeping my nose to the air
to breathe our oxygen
searching for ways to recycle a synthetic past into raw, earthy tones
dreaming of ways to live gently
and soothe a conscience full of unknown, hidden foes
one moments glance at the jungle of hardened polymers shining in the crusted sunlight -
i begin to realize they are not garbage, but gold
to be re-shapeable, to be reusable; is this not better than gold?
to keep firm and true to ones self, while being agile and accommodating, is this not worth much more?
to have a 75 year half-life;
slow, deteriorating, dissolving decomposition.
or to be re-formed. replenished.
you can recycle the past.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
Love is patient,
It willingly waits,
Accommodating the pace,
of others,
it is never in a haste.
Love is kind,
It provides support for the long haul,
even in the heaviest downpours.
It appreciates the efforts others make,
However small.
It does not envy, it does not boast.
It exudes humility wherever it goes.
Love is not proud,
"I" is never what it's about.
Love is not rude,
even when it's in a foul mood.
It is not self-seeking,
It does not fight for rights.
Love is not easily angered,
It does not stir up fights.
It keeps no records of wrongs.
Love is forgiving.
It is always protecting,
rather hurting itself than hurting another.
It is always trusting, hoping and persevering even
when the person repeatedly does the wrong thing.
Love never fails.
This is the love that I have.
The love bore to me in death.
When you died on that cross,
You paid the cost.
And now, I'm no longer lost.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
It's a travesty to tolerate
The ugly mores of men,
When everyone's allowance
Condones release for them.
Where everywhere provision
Is made for man to shove,
And woe betide the meek
Who don the feathers of a dove
The world applauds the forceful,
Rewards are rich for he
Who tramples over daisies
And holds aloft the key.
Who forces his attentions
And speculates the win,
Despite the devastation wrought
In winning it for him.
It's a travesty to tolerate
This bovine charge of man
When all can be achieved
With an accommodating plan,
When compromise and levity
See consideration's way
Where success can be attained
With out bloodletting on the day.
I hear the snort of your derision,
Feel the snigger in your smile,
See the curl of lip descending
With your slit eyes of defile.
For this portraiture is global
The fighting man is King
And he who deviates
Is left bereft and vanquishing.
Sadness is the matador
Who casts his scarlet cloth,
To be shredded and impaled
By a maddened bullock's wrath.
To be tossed aside, asunder
Like a lifeless ragged doll,
Like mankind's brute tomorrow
When the final drums do roll.
Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
29 November 2009
Nov 28, 2009
Nov 28, 2009 at 7:17 PM UTC
She prances the streets, a ballerina in heat snapping finger's in rhyme! Forget thy time, she telephathicly makes her own.
She lives alone, yet roomies become her attire, maiden of dires, dating site's not accommodating thy interest? Pinterest !
A pipe she keeps next to her bed, juicy lipstick, a prideful head,
Yet still her small green bag does not satisfy.. Queen so blind!
Smoke evacuates the old pried windows that are nailed, for ghosts do haunt her, within and outside..
Thoughts of suicide, as riddles she makes up to stay sane, her mascara pounds to thine rain that leaks into her basement sanctuary!!
Addict's she clings to, monsters she speaks to, as her cats keep good company, I know!!!!
An operetic show, a fatalist as me, yet still hoping for whats not there, unruly she dares!!!
Her street lies beyond the ghettos, 515 dover lane ..
On the east side of town where the bullets meet with trains!!
Factory's of grains that make your daily bread, where thy living and thou dead come in between two world's...
Lonesome young girl, no more chariots can you escape, for thou art blundered and unvaped to the cloud animals thou creates!
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC
On my better days
My watery eye rests
Somewhere between dream and imagination
And I am aware of a gentle ocean
Swinging into lazy waves
Slapping each other softly
As a bright white yacht
Slips serenely and silently
Through this accommodating sea
As long as the planet breathes
And air becomes wind
Or even breeze enough
To fill the glowing sails
The yacht keeps gliding
Blithely forward
But that's on my better days
By Phil Roberts
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 7:28 AM UTC
Pick Up The Microphone
Pick up the microphone,
hear me speak,
I see you looking at me,
feeding me the words coming out of my mouth,
feeding off of my energy, the hype,
catharsis personified is what you are in that moment.
I digressed but yeah correct me if needs be.
If needs be,
Words?
Where we have Mr.Ease and Difficulty,
Then the least they do is hug me.
Pick up the microphone,
Noises spoke,
Voices wrote,
The philosophy,
And the etymology,
To shine with glitter by the twang which is spoken,
From pretty little girls that provoke them,
Pick up the microphone,
Give birth to the word which is answered,
Give in the words to be renowned and,.
be free with the verb that has inaugurated me,
With this personal noun stands my identity,
My adjective accommodating the quality,
Adverb knowing the effect of me,
So,the next time you blur vision, to get a vivid state of mind.
You better PICK UP THAT MICROPHONE .
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 7:53 AM UTC
Considering some pages I've covered, quite immersed I can be in nonsense.
Nonsense, immaterial..
Nonsense, derailed..
Nonsense, abnormal..
Nonsense, beauty..
Nonsense, imperfection..
Nonsense, is doglike..
Doglike is godlike... Yeah, thought crime, alot of things considered too sacred to ponder.. that's the program, the matrix.. But with poetry, THOUGHT CRIME is godly.
Thought crime.. is
the universal law of creation.
the wonders of the world are born.
Civilization is born.
Solutions are discovered.
Guilty and escape or innocent and bound. Your choice.
DOG.
Dog is uncleanness yet godlike in all ramifications.
Jealousy.
Longing..
Pure..
Loving..
Ever accommodating..
Protective..
Peaceful..
Violent..
Kind..
But most important it's ever forgiven and never complaining..
It's the friend I crawl back to after given up myself to the sharp edges of sins,
as others fled seeing me down with bruises, it cleans my sores without disdain and accompanies me.
Can you be with a
MAD man. He asked.?
Mad
Not in violence,
MAD in words..
MAD in poetry..
Oh mad,
Have he just unlocked the portal..?
Making a difference with words is the "IKIGAI".
Orders might follow suit,
Breakdown one..
Two in the process..
Immersed in nonsense finding it hard to discover myself in the sense..
The MAD lines..
First timer in the MAD lines, old-timer in the LOVE and SORROW lines..
MAD lines are..
Sensitive...
Creative.
Adaptive.
In-Sanity..
Unsensored..
Derailing..
Dark humor..
Lies...
Liers can't make heaven they say,
But even when he lies he made it to heaven...
Why lit candles while going to the source of light, little ounce...
Are u trying to compare your Shadow with God's?
Shadow..
An object coming between a ray of light and a surface.
The twist is in the rays of light and the surface, which do you belong..?
Don't understand?
You are not meant to, just flow along the lines..
Until you get to the end of the rope just then a glimpse of light might appear, Hold on to the rope..
Hold...
The breathe.
The courage.
The life..
Yeah, hold, hold on to these lines Coz you might miss them someday..
Jul 12, 2023
Jul 12, 2023 at 11:22 AM UTC
when critique is about, the unsuspecting walk like peacocks, showing off the wooden dutch slacks of fear prior to criticism, forging a proof of god so debased that it would require the holocaust to have taken place.
- yes, this call is immediate, what's the severity?
- immediacy in all circumstances.
- sounds terrible.
- yep, blood in my **** too.
- ooh, dialectical diarrhoea?
- skidding at one hundred miles per hour with a popsicle swerve on the slurp.
- trafalgar sq. fountains?
- lions roaring in alabaster to the breaking of bony hinges.
- triage.
- can i see him face to face.
- no, you need to speak to him first via the triage telephone system.
- so he's the now receptionist and knows the daybreak slots with chemical compounds.
- no, thingy thingy, dum dum **** a toe, crackle fun pull a twig: we're
the receptionists, he prioritises the eventuality of a cancer advert.
- three quid down the drain?
- yes, we, the receptionists of the world will stand against the robotic onslaught!
- ****** on winter sledges.
- exactly.
- not exactly, you, receptionist, you jane, me tarzan, you book face to face, now.
- you tarzan, you straighten bananas.
- you jane, you book, appointment.
- you tarzan, you straighten bananas.
- you jane, you book, appointment, now.
- me jane, me receptionist, me on the conveyor belt of corn crop patched harvestable.
- me i.q.
- me one hundred and fifteen.
- face to face to farce.
- farce to bloke to pole.
- pole leaning on a pole.
- englishman eating a napkin.
- blackjack and ingredients for the pride of britain: vindaloo child.
- sloshed on a cricketeer's return.
- puns and cardamon cardigans of colour without scent.
- pushy apple sours coloured acid green without the mojo juice.
- spank that gimp ***** into a piglet.
- leathered up, boots on parole.
(who the hell is talking now?)
- i need to see the doctor face to face, i need my sick note to live on:
on brink of day in ultraviolet twilights, and drink.
- are you a banker?
- i'm a sick man, a beggar.
- we only provide sickness to the rich and famous.
- so what do i get?
- premature death.
- oh, can i have a bank account with that?
- oh sure, as long as you can accept debt.
- 5% like standard a.e.r.?
- no, 2000%
- so my debt interest will be crazy dizzy above my savings interest rate?
- yes.
- do you sell *** positive syringes?
- we're accommodating.
- thank you very much.
- thank you.
- goodbye morrow and marrow tight.
- bones ashore.
- **** all ahoy.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 8:58 PM UTC
The intensity of the moment builds.
Eventually, a shrill of excitement will fill the room.
And all eyes will be on us, in the rays of light that strike us from the ball room ceiling.
Your hair curls gracefully, and bounces as you walk down that isle.
Your dress wraps around you, accommodating every curve, and every defining feature.
The white contrasts your cherry blossom lips, and your sweet hazel iris.
You are utterly gorgeous.
Though there's one thing...
Just one.
It's all in my head.
You were never mine to be with, and that's the saddest part of all.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
You are full of it
when what you plan
to do did not include
other people's interest.
Are you playing with
yourself all alone,
when all you needed
was just lovely friends
who will gladden your
world with their lives.
These loving friends are
actually the flowers in
the garden of our lives,
they decorate our lives
with beauty and adorn it
with fragrance of their
loving smiles,
bringing to us that free gifts
of love and friendship.
Their presence is more than
a balm of Gilead.
A true friend is like a rose
and a beautiful flower in
the vase of our lives worthy
to be nurtured and watered daily.
We need each others touch to
survive and thrive.
Love is about inclusion,
doing and acting out our lives,
and letting others into our world.
Even though some might be a
pain in the ***
still you can't do without them,
they make up the textures
of our lives.
We need all of them both the
positive and the negative,
they help bring us to a better place.
Unwittingly helping in an
uncanny way to learn about
love and forgiveness,
accommodating and acceptance,
patience and endurance,
Wellness and healing.
They bring pleasure and delight into our world.
How I wish we could be good loving friends.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 4:53 PM UTC
The architect of fate we are
Onus is on us to strengthen the foundation
To build a structure, concrete, yet accommodating
And mend the cracks as soon as they appear
Sway with a rhythm of the residents
Masons fortifying the walls around
The dialogues reverberating all around
It’s not a house, where love does not reveal
Build monument of love, protected from nature’s fury
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 12:08 AM UTC
i have learnt that everyone in my life is not accommodating to how I am i didn't ask to get molested i didn't ask to be molested again and then even on the third time i didn't ask.
but you 'people' make me feel like i begged for it
like its somehow my fault
i was 7 years old the last time and who knows how old I'll be the next time and mum i think you knew
I have a disorder now
I can't trust anyone and I hate everyone and I cant touch anyone
at least not healthily
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 8:43 AM UTC