"meaner" poems
(Genesis, xxii.14)
The saints should never be dismay'd,
Nor sink in hopeless fear;
For when they least expect His aid,
The Saviour will appear.
This Abraham found: he raised the knife;
God saw, and said, "Forbear!
Yon ram shall yield his meaner life;
Behold the victim there."
Once David seem'd Saul's certain prey;
But hark! the foe's at hand;
Saul turns his arms another way,
To save the invaded land.
When Jonah sunk beneath the wave,
He thought to rise no more;
But God prepared a fish to save,
And bear him to the shore.
Blest proofs of power and grace divine,
That meet us in His word!
May every deep-felt care of mine
Be trusted with the Lord.
Wait for His seasonable aid,
And though it tarry, wait:
The promise may be long delay'd,
But cannot come too late.
6.7k
I'm six years old. I'm six years old and my favourite colour is green because it's the colour of my eyes and I think my eyes are the prettiest things I have ever seen.
I'm eight years old. I'm eight years old and I had a nightmare so bad I felt like my eyes were deceiving me. My favourite colour is now the same pale blue as my Mum's floral bedsheets because they make me feel safe.
I'm ten years old now. I'm ten years old and I'm a big girl because I'm allowed to walk to school with my friend instead of my Mum. We walk past fields of buttercups and other pretty flowers but my new favourite colour is the peach of the rose in my front garden.
I'm twelve years old. I'm twelve years old and I can't stand the colour green anymore because the meaner people in my school decided my self worth was less important than their jokes. I don't have a favourite colour anymore, but if you ask I'll say it's purple.
I'm fourteen years old. I'm fourteen which means I've been a teenager for a year and I still can't stand the colour green. My Mum let me dye my hair for the first time and now it is red and red is my favourite colour, but if you asked I would still tell you it's purple.
I'm sixteen now. I'm sixteen and I think I know everything, I met a boy that I like for the first time, my Mum doesn't know, but I think he makes the colour green a bit easier to look at because he told me he loves my eyes and that they are the most beautiful things he has ever seen. He gave me a pair of rose tinted glasses and I'm not quite sure why, but for now my favourite colour is the deep brown of his eyes but if anyone asks, my favourite colour is still purple.
I'm eighteen now. I'm eighteen and I can finally drink without it being illegal, and I have started drinking to forget everything except the colour of my Mum's pale blue floral bedsheets, the peach of the rose in my front garden, the bright red of my hair and the green of my eyes but most of all I'm drinking to forget the purple of the bruises that litter my skin, the purple that I always insisted was my favourite colour for reasons unknown to me.
I should be twenty years old now, and my favourite colour should be the orange of the sunset, the pink of the sunrise or maybe even the yellow of the buttercups in the fields I used to walk past on my way to school, but I did not make it to twenty years old. My favourite colour was never purple and I never asked for my skin to be constantly tainted that way, but you made sure I never healed and now my Mum is laying purple flowers on my grave and she's wishing she fought more to get my favourite colour to be green again like when I was six years old and in love with myself and the world around me, because if I still loved the innocent green then maybe I wouldn't be suffering my greatest nightmare as a child with the only comfort being tucked up in the seemingly endless sea of brown. I always tricked myself and everyone else into thinking things were perfect with rose tinted glasses but the lenses shattered and the last flower you laid on my grave was the peach coloured rose from my front garden, and now the petals have wilted and all of the colour has been drained from me but this new world has more hues than I could have ever dreamed of.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 9:06 PM UTC
I do not love you
Even though I said that I did
I got caught in the moment
And now I feel stuck in the life sentence of a prisoners bid
It’s destroying my insides
Cuz there’s nothing meaner than loving someone who doesn’t love u back
Been down that dark road before
Sharp corners on two wheels
0 to 60 straight into you
Rear view mirror running from the past
It fake happened real fast
Fell quick in love and quicker out
Left you holding your heart with no light
I’m sorry.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
The colors are darker-
Blending together to be grey,
The magic is bitter-
It's sweet flavor ran away,
The cold has gotten meaner-
The heat has given in to decay,
The rot is much quicker-
Seeping deeper day by day,
The struggles are harder..
Due to the fact that you've gone away...
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 1:46 AM UTC
I swear these days the kids think they can rap
With their #swag and their #yolo and snapback caps.
But I'd like to show them what RAP means in this country
I'll spell it out: RHYTHMIC AMERICAN POETRY.
Without your stanzas and word composition
you're just another rapper with an arrogant disposition.
Without a positive message and a humble demeanor
you've got negativity causing the children to get meaner.
You blast the bass and you spit your rhymes
you claim that the haters, "they be lying."
But you fail to see that at the heart of it all
you're more like Lil' Wayne than Biggie Smalls.
I'm truly sorry if you get offended by this rant,
but first thing's first;
Pull up your pants...
Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
to more than I can be...
a sad isolated man,
throes of an agonizing,
stretched by her for painful
revengeful gain,
kissed with pointless avarice, divorce.
children deeming
him alienating, his faulty
insensitive sensitivities,
to easy blame
little do they know of the
piercing lowliness, the looniness of
nights he listened to sad-eyed singers,
and his late-of-mid of night scribbled scripts,
where he
off loaded the agonies of a midlife
disaster, not entirely of his-own
sown making,
but still his to bear and bare alone...
some accidents happens for unintentional,
unintended intentional new seasons appear,
stumbled, tumbled, fumbled his way onto
this H~oly P~lace, where someone might listen
to his explanations, expiations, excoriations
of his all too common tragedy, and said:
this broken human, he's got his reasons,
read his overly long treatises, his entreaties,
to those that prowl, rowing, in this corner
of the silence of the internet, where only the
trolls, the cold, the easier to-be-meaner oft thrive,
and found none of that, but an oasis of sheltering,
embracing comforting, those who actually admitted
his writings could be loved, and perhaps the writer
himself, was
deserving
of a second chance, a verbal embrace. a rereading forgiveness,
a pat
on his natback, a sympathetic sensory intaking,
and perhaps-this debt, eternal, that put the
for and the fore in a new baby born, named -
new forever
came into existence
the very same
e
that begins those conjoined words
***e~ternally grateful
"and now I sleep in peace when the day is done"
but the night time
is still the
write time
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 11:42 AM UTC
... on the other side :P
Money don't grow any greener
The mean streets are getting meaner
Come and get me pretty please
When you find some grow on trees!
Wake up! Smell the Dunkin Donuts!
We're in the Twilight Zone
like robots...
Every cloud is silver lined
Even one that's in your mind
And when you find
fate's shut the door
You'll find a hatchway...
... in the floor!
SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/16/2015
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC
It is like some steampunk nightmare
Where working overtime is a racket
When what was time and a half pay
On the day I get my check, I make less;
Some kind of tax bracket scam thing
Where working extra hours put me
Into another category and increased
The tax they use to grease the wheels
Of a bloated government that hates me.
Maybe that dates me and it isn’t true;
That things have changed and it is
No longer arranged that way. And maybe
The way things became done was that
I got it all back as a refund. But isn’t that
Redundant, that I had to pay it to them
To use it like per diem for their games?
The shame is that I chafed and did nothing
Besides ******** and frothing at the mouth.
It’s not like I could go south to Ensenada,
Buy a piñata that looked like Mickey Mouse,
It was just that the house always wins.
But I have to pay for my tiny, mundane sins.
Why don’t they? Why does it go on and on
And then the money’s gone and I pay more
The next time some fat ***** of a politician
Begins a petition to increase their slice
And nicely reduce ours to a pittance
So low there is no admittance to a show
Or enough to replace a car that is a wreck?
The albatross around my neck gets larger
As it I move farther from the day it died
Even though I have tried standing up straighter.
It’s The Grand Guignol Theatre that life is
And the strife is to not let it get me down;
To be the happy clown and not the sad one
In a game that was begun to make me lose.
I am not confused. I see it, but it seems
Even in dreams I get no kind of relief
From a governmental thief with immunity;
The pillages with impunity and teases
That he does what he pleases. Neener, neener
What in hell could possibly be meaner?
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 6:32 AM UTC
I know you think
I wear lipstick everyday
And my hands always
Smell like
Chai tea and raspberries
I know you think
My tongue always
Tastes like
Melted sugar
And peppermint
I know you think
I sleep in the same lace
Underwear
You find me in
On certain Sundays
In the spring
When the air is light
And my jeans
Don't stick
To my thighs
I know you think
I'm larger than life
Above chipped teeth
And bruises
And cigarette ash
And acne
I know you think
My eyes don't turn
Blood red
And poison
When I cry
I know you think
My finger nails
Are always
Freshly painted
And I always wear
A bra
That fits
I know you think
Yoga pants are
My comfy clothes,
Never gray sweat pants
With a faded red stain
Between my legs
I know you think
My calves are always
Soft, hairless, and toned
You think
I wait by the phone
With vanilla incense
Burning in a red robe
But you're wrong
And that's impossible
I won't let you in
Cause I won't be
The one
To shatter
Your whole
Pretty, little world
I'm disgusting
Sometimes
I sleep with
Way too many
Girls and guys
And sometimes I cry so much
My eyelids peel
Til I look like
Leather face
And I don't leave my house
For 8 days
And in those 8 days
I shower
Maybe twice
My skin gets rough
In the winter
Right now
I have a
Pimple on
My left shoulder
And every morning
It looks a little
Meaner
My ***** spill
Out over the top
And the sides
Of my favorite
Sport's bra
And I don't care
I smell like burnt oil
And cheap hair dye
Half of the time
I haven't washed
My sheets in a while
And they smell like
Salt water
And chlorine
You put me up on a pedestal
From which I refuse to fall
So I'll stay here,
Far,
Untouchable
You'll never love me
With sticky tampons
In my garbage can
And half drank beer bottles
On my bedroom floor
I'll stay here,
Far,
Untouchable,
Safe
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 7:45 PM UTC
A flower sat deep in a mountain hole,
he kept his goals sacred and his petals whole.
They said he was a dreamer,
that had kept his feelings in and became a little meaner.
He was as nice as an angel,
well at first that's what it seemed.
Because he became a flower,
in what he wanted as a dream.
Then one day as he bloomed,
a fish that looked like the sky,
put a cast of magic into his eye,
and just as soon as death came apon him,
just like the wind,
you can never, ever predict its course.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 6:22 PM UTC
I remember when I saw you
for the first time years ago
You brushed me off without a glance
I thought "that's someone I should know"
Time went by and walls came down
I softened your demeanor
It took some work, but I won out
Because, hell...you couldn't get much meaner
A first is always tougher
No matter what it is you do
But, each first is well worth living
If I can have my first with you
A few months in another first
You met my folks and friends
when I brought you to that birthday do
The one I wished would never end
You took your time and wore me down
Another first came soon
I remember how your body shone
All sweaty 'neath the moon
A first is always tougher
No matter what it is you do
But, each first is well worth living
If I can have my first with you
We married six months after that
In a year our first was born
I can't remember which one cried the most
You, or our baby, just new born
Our first house came, we bought a dog
Things were off and at full speed
But with all of our achievements
You were the one thing I'd still need
A first is always tougher
No matter what it is you do
But, each first is well worth living
If I can have my first with you
We opened up our business
The first of many more to come
It wasn't that successful
but it was still our number one
I remember that day's phone call
The doctor said "I've bad news for you"
He told me of the tumour
I'd passed first and was stage two
Through radiation and my chemo
You were the one who was always there
I remember when you came in
And you had shaved off all your hair
A first is always tougher
No matter what it is you do
But, each first is well worth living
If I can have my first with you
I've been gone now for a while
I know it's tough, but I'm around
I can see you and our child
Even though I'm in the ground
There'll be more firsts now together
I know it just won't be the same
But, still it's firsts and your'e together
Like when we first played out this game
A first is always tougher
Even though it's not with me
But, each first is well worth living
Just make it the best that it can be
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 7:25 PM UTC
696
Their Height in Heaven comforts not—
Their Glory—nought to me—
’Twas best imperfect—as it was—
I’m finite—I can’t see—
The House of Supposition—
The Glimmering Frontier that
Skirts the Acres of Perhaps—
To Me—shows insecure—
The Wealth I had—contented me—
If ’twas a meaner size—
Then I had counted it until
It pleased my narrow Eyes—
Better than larger values—
That show however true—
This timid life of Evidence
Keeps pleading—”I don’t know.”
2.7k
The world is an addiction
Eyes filled with vanity
Wonder if it's green like envy
Wonder if it all spring from the same seed
See one with it and you have to get it
By any means, necessary
Even running at them at a red light
Close to a district
But how we split a watch three way
Guess two must have to die today
The world is an addiction
Selling ***
We want to see more violence
More brutality even the headlights on our cars getting meaner
Is this what the media is teaching us?
In 30 second intervals feeding us
That poison
The world is an addiction
But where to find rehab
Is it with in a church
For even pastor Mason wants his dough and he doesn't pray for a dollar
So I come to my knees and ask for forgiveness
For the Versace and Dolce and Gabbana
Everything I don't need while there are kids who don't eat
I was like them, hungry
guess that's why I buy things
The world is an addiction
It flows through my veins like heroine, it goes up my nose like ******* inhaled it through my mouth like drough, smoke it of a pipe like Crack
For I desire everything I don't have
The world is my addiction
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
“If you are mean with me, I’ll be meaner with you”
When you do something “wrong” or the evilest thing towards someone, they take revenge of that
Instead of take advantage of that situation and person and trying to be better than those, than them.
They need, they have the desire to be more devilish.
It’s pathetic. Mediocre.
People seem to be angels, the purest souls. Even the ones who are good human beings.
But we all have a demon burning inside of us, yelling to escape, to be free.
But that chaos which people have is major.
They sell you an angelical aura, the best moral, and the darkness inside of them is unexpected.
Even the one who can be “an angel” is and could be the malevolent ******
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 3:07 PM UTC
the isle meets us gruffly,
ferry over rough seas, meaner winds,
bay size puddling lakes
a/k/a local flooding,
roads littered with tree debris,
all saying an uncoded message:
"see humans, you come to stay only with my forbearance"
But I know that familiar voice, disguised as nature,
a first derivative of the alpha of that god who comes,
torturing me with requests for forgiveness
I am nature too, I am human nature,
and I too,
am not in a forgiving mood, and one-word reply:
Barcelona
ashamed,
the ugly skies ease off and
next morn,
an August beauty provided
but I am neither assuaged, bought off, forgetting,
address the hiding-in-disguise master of the universe:
"*you trifle with us as if we could not count, keep tabs,
and weary be at the newest sabbath carnage never ending
give me storms, keep your glories,
fell trees, drown us, if it pleases,
we are neither perfect nor innocent
but take impotent responsibility
set us not one against the other,
there, here, Charlottesville,
keep your false free choice that
always comes with a wink and nod,
a little nudge, and exclaims of humans doing your work*"
I light a candle
not to you,
but for you
and be terrified
when I no longer do
<•>
Aug. 19, 2017
12:14 pm
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 1:14 PM UTC
If I showed you my body bare
Through the shock, would you even care
That I stripped down layer by layer
Just to show you my innermost scares.
First is the very top layer
The girl with the messy dyed brown hair
The smiles and the laughter
Hiding all the pain that comes out after.
Second is the life of the party
Loud laughs, happy and hearty
Nothing to worry her pretty little mind
An empty, intoxicated mind.
Third is the loving pet-o-phile
That wants to travel from Paris to the Nile
Passionate shopper, day dreamer
But when she's angry, never meaner.
Fourth is the girl not many know
Called horrible things like a ***** and ***
She does not care about what they say
Waits all year for the two months after May.
Fifth is the bottle of open pills
And all she wants to do to herself is ****
The trust in life no longer there
The girl with the messy dyed brown hair.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 5:37 AM UTC
unarmored
meat bones
loves tones
abrasively chanting
hates moan
leave him alone
heavy sleep
headache
crave
me
I
will never
hold you again.
karma is greener, much meaner.
volume displacement
losing you was the punishment
of my crime.
never again
will I love you,
never again
the things that I said.
there's nothing you could want or need from, of, or because of me:
not even the memory of our best days
our first kiss or our last kiss
there's nothing I miss,
never again,
will I love with a love so blindly.
never again,
a love built on such a crumbling foundation.
never again will I run away from pain to love,
love which stems from any other source save for love itself
is not a love for me.
love again?
I will.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
Surprise surprise
Daddy didn’t show
Daddy doesn’t care
Daddy doesn’t know
Daddy does care
Daddy knows best
Then why does daddy make empty promises?
Daddy says this
Daddy says that
Daddy buys us gifts
To make up for what he missed
Daddy met a girl
She was daddies world
Next thing you know she replaces daddies little girl
What used to be daddies girl grew up in an empty world
No longer daddies only girl
Daddy left her all alone
No daddy to buy us gifts
No daddy to see his kids
Momma took the blame when daddies girl misbehaved
Daddy had no part in his little girls birthdays
What once was daddies girl
Became a lonely world just a reminder of what used to be daddies girl
Surprise surprise
Daddy isn’t here
Let it be up to daddies to up and disappear
Daddy says funny things
Funny things about wedding rings
Daddy has a lot of flings whatever that means
Momma and daddy don’t get along
Daddy’s mean to momma when momma does something wrong
Mommas mean to daddy when bills aren’t met
Daddy buys gifts for other girls that’s why we’re in debt
Daddy’s mean to momma
Daddy makes momma cry
Daddy’s mean to momma until sunrise
Daddy slams the door
What was that for?
Daddy went to the store
Why is momma torn?
Momma says daddy has another little girl one to buy toys for one with daddy’s curls
What was wrong with this daddies girl?
Why did daddy decide to give up his whole world
Momma said things will get better
But this little girl turned sour and bitter
Surprise surprise
Daddy didn’t show
Daddy said he’ll be watching from the front row
Daddy’s little girl practiced every day till dawn
Just so she could show daddy her moves were spot on
The curtains about to rise
I don’t see daddy what a surprise
The shows about to start
Daddy’s gonna miss my part
Daddy said he’ll be there
Daddy doesn’t lie
Daddy will be here in no time
About to go on stage now
There she goes with her little crown
“Why is that pretty girl wearing a frown?”
Daddies a no show
So this little girl turned stone cold
There’s momma in her pretty gown
Too bad daddy isn’t here to see
How pretty mommy can be
What can you do
Daddy doesn’t stay true
Surprise surprise
Daddy isn’t home
Mommas sitting here waiting by the phone
I’m getting sleepy
But mommas still sitting here weeping
Uh oh what to do
Daddy came home with the reak of *****
What can you do
What did I do wrong? There’s no telling
Daddy won’t stop yelling
Daddy’s getting meaner
Where’s mommy when I need her
Daddy won’t get off of me
Daddy, why are you on top of me?
Surprise surprise
Daddies little prize
Grew up in a web of lies
Poor daddies girl in a lonely world
No daddy to love
No daddy to hug
Just a mean daddy
Who takes off her p.a.n.tees
Surprise surprise
This daddy is no daddy of mine
Let this be true
That all daddies can fool you
Feb 26, 2020
Feb 26, 2020 at 4:38 PM UTC
I have to admit
That I immediately knew what the media meant
As I grew up I drew out-
Side lines
Meaning kinds when you omit the 'n' so I'm sent
To set askew a few lies, yes my butterfly knife flies like a feather pen oh I've been
A berserker moving farther
Further herding words heard for war it's forward
But since before he was drafted roughly but justly
Just to sink in ink engrafted ****** because he's
Made for brigades who blockade it to shock it
Force it shoot it and make it play its poor music to Bach it
Oh face it, we rock it
The battalion's out there and they're shouting
I'm silent but they rattle
Yeah my rabble of stallions, they're rowdy
But of course, off course it is not all Norse my love because
They say the other north
Yeah your horizontal course turned up with a
Tincture of madness
And that is the one, single error and I'm glad of it
If you catch it
Maybe a troublemaker by nature but baby a peace speaker missing demeanor
With misdemeanors when getting meaner
But I practice a bit
In an out-there train re-accident be-
Cause the battalion's out there while they're shouting
I'm silent but they rattle rapidly
Yeah my rabble of battle lions rabid
To vaporize vapid rabbits
They're rowdy and
And love is getting much louder than growling it's
It's sounding much louder than growling
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
Mary! I want a lyre with other strings,
Such aid from Heaven as some have feign'd they drew,
An eloquence scarce given to mortals, new
And undebased by praise of meaner things;
That ere through age or woe I shed my wings,
I may record thy worth with honour due,
In verse as musical as thou art true,
And that immortalizes whom it sings:
But thou hast little need. There is a Book
By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light,
On which the eyes of God not rarely look,
A chronicle of actions just and bright--
There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine;
And since thou own'st that praise, I spare thee mine.
1.7k
Watch me walk
Right outta this hell
And into something meaner
They say I'm all talk
But I wish em well
And the grass is always greener
Their words like pitchforks
They can speak but can't tell
The gods are waiting, Zeus and Athena
So watch me walk
And cast that spell
To whisk me away to a world so much sweeter
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 7:25 AM UTC
Senior year filled with bliss
Senior year full of lists
life lessons we've all learned
no Qur'an to be burned
acceptance and tolerance is taught
things we ought not do
and things we ought to
skipping classes oh what fun
getting lots of essays
never done enough
We've all got pretty tough
after four years time
spent on
homework
friends
experiencing life
is defiantly sublime
getting ready for the future
yet we still cant see the whole **** picture
kind of nervous
kind of scared
at the end of the year
when we'll really see who really cared
to be true friends til the bitter end
through all our ups and all our downs
clean out the friend list
get ready for the plunge
each day is another last
memories we shall forget
names that used to have purpose
are now found meaningless
find a purpose
find a place
society dictates
this is our anthem
that although times are bad
working is all you have
each election getting meaner
every day a little harder
HOPE MY ***
this is all a clever lie
high school teaches us so much
yet none is remembered
none is obtained
vague concepts taught to the blind masses
When will the people learn?
To STAND UP
Stand up against corruption
and illegal government spending-WHOOPS
guess that was left outta the text books
Stay civil
stay sane
Follow the "American culture"
Eat fat
stay thin
this is hypocrisy we now live in
Vote for Republican
Vote for Democrat
doesn't matter in the end
they are the same
Abercrombie and Fitch
VS
Hollister
Same brand
different label
Don't you see?
Can't you see?
This hypocrisy....
is real
as real
as you
or Me
End of line
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 2:17 AM UTC
When percentage grows up,
A decripit-scale converts into percentile,
They don't check how much you knew anymore,
They check how many others you defeated in competition.
When you grew up the measure you knew as percentage became percentile,
Yes meaner, deadlier & stingier measure percentage became when it grew up as percentile.
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 1:29 AM UTC
*He used to paint my nails.
He'd paint em
pinks reds and orange
he'd paint them blue
sometimes too
mostly black.
He'd make tiny daisy
flowers all around.
He used to put lipstick
on me
he'd trace my out lip line
he'd use
black or brown liner
making them fuller
he'd tell me
they need to look fuller.
He use to dress me up
he'd get fishnet thigh highs
he'd have me step into
a mini dress
made of synthetic leather
zebra prints all around.
He'd follow with
a black tight
leather half shirt
gloves long and white
always would follow.
He use to do my hair
he'd comb front to back
for 45mins
it'd shine and glow
falling off my shoulders
cascading down my back
it almost touched my ****
He used to put me in heels
he'd picked always the reds
I didn't like these red heels
I stood almost to his chest.
He used to tell me
to dance.
He'd say move my
hips like this
in a circular motion.
He'd say stand
in the middle
on the dinning
room table
dance for me
he'd say
dance
for poppop.
He use to touch me
when I danced
He used to
touch himself too
I cried.
He'd become meaner
He'd say don't
make me punish you
I felt punished already.
He'd get undress
I'd cry louder
begging him not to.
He's slapped
my face
I always fell
I'd stand up
fast or he'd
hit me again.
He'd lay me on the table
keeping me trapped
in the middle
he'd fill me every night
I'd cry
He'd laugh.
***He use to paint my nails.
(until my birth father shot him)*
*Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright ©
Ayeshah
K.C.L.N 1977 - Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved ®***
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 1:07 AM UTC