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absinthe Jul 2018
sat next to the man with two phones
i asked him to hold my hand
and he laughed  

sitting in his ‘96 civic
for three hours we fell asleep
till six since three

he’s one of the many men
whose substance
far from the moral field
leaves many men with little substance
and you and me victims
of victims of you and me

he’s the type who feeds fiends
and he’ll keep making a killing
off children we perceive
as grown men and women
living to **** themselves
it’s how he makes a living

don’t him you belittle
for you are no different  

i know the thought makes you livid
you wish he was lined up and shot with the likes of him
but your white lies are their white lines
and the front lines in his line of business
so you would lie alongside and
wrong right
where you were digging

as far as i’m concerned
he’s not a man without substance
and one of much substance
one of few and far between
and certainly could you defeat

because while you let savages ravage me
he held my hand for free
and never demanded their standard fee
of an arm  
and a leg
and everything in between

.
MalakF Jul 2018
Warning: rules of a normal family life do not apply in this house.
If you are under their roof then you just have to deal with the abuse.
Katja Pullinen Dec 2018
A puppet doll in someone hands.
She not a clever human.

A puppet doll in someone games.
She not alive, she just a stuff.

,,And it's okay!'' they say.
,,She doesn't feeling nothing.
She just a puppet doll, thats all.
She never speak, she never hurts.''

,,Lets tear her dress'' they say and smiling.
They teared her dress.

A puppet doll was
standing *****.
No tears, no pain and no reflexions.

,,And it's okay!" they say.
,,She just a puppet girl, that's all.
She doesn't feel.
She doesn't cry.
She even tell nobody.''

,,It is okay!'' they say.
,,Let's cut off her long hair?"
They cut off her long hair.
,,It is okay!" they say.
,,She doesn't hurts.
She doesn't feel a pain.
She just a puppet doll, that's all!''

And puppet girl stay ***** and without hair.
No tears, no pain and no reflexions.

,,It is okay!'' they say.
,,She just a puppet doll, that's all!"

,,It is okay!" they say and smiling.
,,Let's cut her body?''
They cut her body.
A puppet girl lay on the floor.
No tears, no pain and no reflexions.

,,It is okay!'' they say.
,,She just a puppet doll, thats all!''
And smiling...
Natalie Sep 2018
I have fashioned out my worry doll of you,
your hair and eyes richer, sweeter
than the darkest honey.
Now you are borne from my own hand,
you cannot leave me.

I’ve sewn in a heart to keep you warm,—
amber eyes to charm me—
moulded lips from red Edam wax
and pressed them into your cloth cheek.
They do not stay. At night,
my teardrops stain your linen dress
a briny, bitter shade.
The lines I've painted on you bleed and run.

I love you, all the same.
Kewayne Wadley Jul 2018
It is possible.
To leap beyond where fear takes us.
Surely so many things happen.
By contrast
We stand still.
Wound up in total curiosity.
To dream in wonderment.
With each twirl we captivate the essence of someone else.
A sort of inspiration that convinces us that we are more than what we believe.
Beginning to walk,
Our other functioning parts come to life.
Embraced in true courage.
Spun around and round.
This huge metal behind it's back.
Suddenly this obstacle isn't what it seems.
First finding what is important.
The touch of someone else
Through encouragement.
The wind-up doll begins to move
No longer incapable by what we define as fear,
But enormous faith.
To place all of it's self in another
Without fear of adding another chip to it's face.
It waddles along.
Moments later,
Pride interferes.
It's movements stop.
To be spun up again and again
Falling to the floor
Seconds at a time
Zoe Mae Nov 2018
Sometimes I wish I were dead
Or maybe in a box somewhere
You could keep me under the bed
Take me out
Dress me up
Give me air
Sometimes I wish I weren't here
Or maybe in a tree somewhere
You could shake it and I'd appear
Check my pulse
Dust me off
Brush my hair
But most times I wish I were you
Or maybe on the moon somewhere
You could scream till your face turns blue
Bring it on
Do your worst
I won't care
Akira Chinen Aug 2018
We waste our lives
chasing some false ideology
of what it means to be beautiful
dressing ourselves up
in the latest paper doll clichés
of magazine quotes
of how to look like a “10”

hoping to see something
other than our own reflection
in the mirror
hoping that a layer
of white washed lies
and vibrant coats painted
over fabricated truths

will somehow make us feel...
how do they say it
on the West Side?  
“I feel pretty and witty and...”
isn’t it somewhere around here
that the truth gets lost
where we allow the definition of beauty
to get painfully distorted

that we hand over our paychecks
and self-esteem
for the latest cure and concealer
to that **** feeling
we get when we are left by ourselves
to face the doubts of our truths

and what is that truth?  

how was beauty defined
before we had a vocabulary of deception
before we danced to radio jingles
and sang along with our self doubts
what did beauty look like
when it was out there
alone in the dark
what was it that was beautiful
before we opened our eyes...

what was beautiful then
is still the same
as what is beautiful now...

and it is nothing we can define
with our words
or our books
or the noises we make when we speak
it is nothing we can see
with our eyes

it is as simple
as it is easy

it is there inside all of us
beneath our clothes
and inside our skin
and protected by our bones
and our marrow

living and blooming
every time we exhale
and every time we inhale

the truth of what it means
to be beautiful

is in just

being

and this truth is sung  
with every beat of our hearts
Kenji Jan 23
"Do you have a lighter? Am I dancing **** yet? Are you watching me because I move alone?"
Well, look a little harder, because as glass reflects on me I reflect back revealing the other side of me.
Two-sided.
She dances with ease.
Do you feel the pain because it's pain that I unleash.
I am the inner reflections of your mutable contingencies.
I switch up as I am never at true peace with just my self.
Look at me, watch me...
Feed on me as I feed onto you.
The perplexities of my intentions are at it's core when I move.
Lost, but just a crazy ******' Gemini with the ability to play with your mind.
Do you see it?
I do.
And she's nasty.
Taste her, lick her, **** her.
She's the dark side of me and she's waiting to play.
Tear me up like I'm your doll and grasp onto my insides like the strings have been attached so the grip cannot lose itself in your sins of your embellishment.
Dress me up, move me.
You are my puppet and I only wanna tease your mind.
**** me like a twist of your mad insanity.
Taste, and watch me because, I move alone.
The Gemini Rising and Black moon in Gemini within me. The dark side
Noel Billiter Jun 2018
The pillows do not rest your head although you may be tired
Perfect porcelain statues of people
Tiny trinkets motionless and admired
towels that dont dry ***** hands
Because they are for looks
The dolls stare blankly across the room
Sit on shelves instead of books
The fine china sits in a curio shelf
Alone forever collecting dust
Pretty flowers no one smells
Frozen forever go untouched
antique couches plush and blue
The guests not asked to have a seat
Price tag attached as if brand new
It’s contents staged precise and neat
Take off your shoes at the door
To maintain the integrity close to mint
Walking on eggshells upon the floor
The carpet lacking one footprint
A life size doll house you can walk inside
look but do not touch written in large print
Detailed written warning signs
Inform the cautious and careful inhabitants
A house you wouldn’t want to live in
But a family does reside
A shocking truth you can’t believe
Resembles forms of any human life
Mark Parker Apr 30
Sewn together to be torn apart,
bitten, beaten, ripped to pieces.
Put back together with used parts,
over time her quality decreases.
Drifting like petals in the gentle breeze,
the Doll goes where the wind blows.
She knows **** would have to freeze
in order to get a brand new set of clothes.
A ribbon wrapped to cover a tortured head,
wooden buttons and her bow colored red.
Notes of a blonde dolls life.
Lilly frost Jan 2018
To what do I owe this honor
Being your toy
A scheme
Thinking you could pass me around to another
With no love
No thought
I meant what I told you
With every piece of my tearing heart
I love you
Even still
You shove me to another once you've had your fill
Is this all I've been to you
Is that all you want
How could you...
Broken
Unsure
Why should I be a part of your life anymore
I'm not your plaything
I'm not your doll
Seeing you toss me aside...
I can't take it
I don't want to fall
Her face displayed a smile,
Her skin made out of false matters,
She painted herself in gold.
How beautiful where her skin,
Her skin striking in the sun,
The paint shone bright,
And inchmeal, she melts.
How could you paint
Plastic out of gold?
Have you dreamt of a world
Filled with her infamous thoughts?
Have you lived in a world
Where her existence
Is just a living nightmare?
Beings? Night terrors?
All because of a
toxic Barbie doll.

You sit by my wooden dresser
There in the corner of my bedroom.
Sweeter you look in front of me,
Than the way you chatter behind me.
Every piece I hold onto,
Thee steal and smirk...
Doing it as if I have not yet caught.
You loved taking my heart into your palm.
Breaking them into pieces
And would make ******* out of them.
What a waste for me to let you
Break it for me.

Call me bossy,
Maybe I’m just clever.
You could be so jealous
I guess I’m just smart.
Do you have those brains, too?
I’ve heard you had none.
You’re pulling me down,
While you had nothing to brag about.
The best of me,
Oh that **** of yours,
I give it my all,
While you had none.
Responsibility, what a word.
Recalling the first times,
You seemed to look innocent.
It was memorable
for you never liked me,
Neither did I.
“Best friend”?
It is such a believable name,
Isn’t it? But, I don’t remember it.
“Stop being my friend”
******, then leave me behind.
I would not be the one doing it for you.
Opening your diary,
While you never read mine.
You ask how I was,
I answered, “I’m fine.”
Your concern? Angelic yet fake.
Look now who’s a Barbie in her smile.
I  am not playing puppets,
I just knew what to do.
I just had a lot of things in mind,
Wishing you told me yours.
I saw those words you held against me,
“She’s this girl and she’s that.”
You little ******, don’t be such a brat.
My mother taught me gossiping is bad,
Why do you do it to me?
I looked like a villain
but I was just a victim.
Oh, I learned in my life...
How I could say “no”,
It is brave, little one.
And to learn is to never trust
And to never talk to a Barbie doll.
Never talk to a Barbie doll!!
Careful, guys. I wish for your safety.
Never love someone who doesn't deserve that love.
Some people are just fakes.
Karey Wassam Dec 2018
Thoughts
of you
twist
and
turn
like
the knife
in my
heart
disjointing
every
part
of
me
Val Graz Feb 20
I'm sorry I became so broken,
I guess that's what happens when you just don't notice,
That your child is hurting,
That inside she's screaming,
For someone to save her,
Save her from herself,
Rescue her from the demon,
That lived in the house,
That was just next door,
A couple of steps, no more,
But you didn't help her,
You didn't save her,
And now she's shattered,
Now she's glass on pavement,
Never to be put back together,
And now no one can save her,

(Save her, save her, save her.)

I cried and cried,
And I tried that night,
To tell you how ****** my life,
Had become, but I couldn't find the knife,
In my back to pull out,
To get the words out,
So now I'm just as broken as the porcelain doll,
In my childhood basement, rotting on the floor,

I tried so hard, Ma, I tried so hard,
To be so normal, but I just couldn't,
All I could think of was how to get out,
How to not scream, how to not shout,
About how unfair the cards I'd been dealt,
Cause yeah I always was reminded they weren't the worst,
But what no one ever one told me, no one ever said,
Was that hey baby girl, they still aren't the best,
So I tried to piece myself together,
Stitch by stitch, but I just keep breaking further,
Because I needed someone,
I needed anyone,
To tell me I'm not alone,
To let me know I don't have to be done,
That there's another way out besides dying,
You don't have to be in your room by yourself crying,
So why did no one save her, save me,
Why did no one save that girl, why did no one save me?

(Save me, save me, save me?)

I tried that night,
I cried and cried,
To tell you how ****** my life,
Had become, but I couldn't find the knife,
In my back to pull out,
To get the words out,
So now I'm just as broken as the porcelain doll,
In my childhood basement, rotting on the floor.
cait-cait Apr 2
i am four
and i learn how to cower:
to put away
my disobedience,
my words,
my innocence,
and look at you like an animal.

i am ten and i know how to cower...
and how to go to school,
and how to live alone,
but by now, i’ve learned to wish
for things greater than mom just
coming home and for you to simply
stop
screaming.

so i turn fourteen, but still you are
evil, and i,
broken…
a doll, that grows but does not extend its
limbs
past the deep end
or grows any new sets of teeth.

i age into fifteen and get broken by someone else...

and then i turn sixteen, as time goes on,
i guess,
and still feel broken, but this time its
different than from when you first
broke me,
and i become harder but happier…
sadder, but sharper when in a
stasis, and
try to heal through watching people have a love
for others...

but i fail, and still become happy,
anyway
and

finally, it is now, and i can say i grow up,
as i will always
continue to grow, and when you come back,
i extend my hand thinking
it’s finally safe when
you grasp it again...

and break all my fingers.

it is now,
and i learn how to cower.
The first poem I’ve written in months. My output has been extremely dead as of late, so this isn’t my best. I was finally starting to come to terms and heal from the trauma my dad caused me, but something happened with him recently that made it all come back. Sad affairs.
Eva Aloezos Aug 2018
Everyone,
It is a man’s world

because in a woman’s world
there would be no homeless,
poverty stricken kids
starving people
unnecessary blood shed
rapes

because the sociopaths would be shunned,
and eventually die off

where as in a man’s world, the sociopaths climb the ladder of success to the twisted teetering top rung
and crush us all, with their destuctive giant fingers
Jasmine dryer Nov 2018
yes i'm sorry
all I wanted was to fix you
to fix you
but now your more broken then before
I just I wanted was for you to last longer
and be a little stronger
but I failed
I failed
but I will fail you no more
for your porcelain skin is to cracked
and your dress isn't even intact
and when I step back
and place you back on the shelf
I think of all that we've dealt with
and this toymaker
sad as i may be
have put you  away
i'm sorry
my black haired porcelain beauty
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