"scarring" poems - Hello Poetry

Stop scarring your own skin Tearing your thoughts apart You are a masterpiece of wonders Rebuild yourself and be whole again Write out your demons And tear the paper instead

0

Apr 23, 2014

Apr 23, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC

betweenthelines

Insecurities

Stop scarring your own skin Tearing your thoughts apart You are a masterpiece of wonders Rebuild yourself and be whole again Write out your demons And tear the paper instead

6

There goes my ****** Scarring all the good people away There she goes... Out of the skirt and into the pants Given power But still controlled Given a job with no promote There she goes being told How she should speak and how she should not How she must look and how she must not There goes my ****** being forcefully entered For years and years being circumcised and beaten And there she goes...being blamed for it all There goes my ****** being a ***** She has ambition and she has strength She's got tough skin and all that it takes But that's just short for...BITCH And there she goes being stuck at the bottom Looking up at the top Trying to break through the glass ceiling And into the powerful world of Johns There goes my ****** demanding equal pay But will the masculine listen to the words she'll say Maybe one day Maybe today My ****** She'll never go away

0

Oct 26, 2014

Oct 26, 2014 at 12:43 PM UTC

emmie-ay

MY ******

There goes my ****** Scarring all the good people away There she goes... Out of the skirt and into the pants Given power But still controlled Given a job with no promote There she goes being told How she should speak and how she should not How she must look and how she must not There goes my ****** being forcefully entered For years and years being circumcised and beaten And there she goes...being blamed for it all There goes my ****** being a ***** She has ambition and she has strength She's got tough skin and all that it takes But that's just short for...BITCH And there she goes being stuck at the bottom Looking up at the top Trying to break through the glass ceiling And into the powerful world of Johns There goes my ****** demanding equal pay But will the masculine listen to the words she'll say Maybe one day Maybe today My ****** She'll never go away

27

Clicketyclick — sickly screens, shooting sixty picture-frames per second Tickety ticktock, rapid-fire photon cannons, ripping holes through our faces rectangles, riddled with anxiety ridden read scripts the resultant retinal scarring Wicketywicked, weary eyes, dripping with serrated pixels triple dotted, typing-awareness indicators create silly suspenses, inducing temporal dramas, emotional micro-traumas every second a slice through my, now practically nonexistent, patience Am I a server, or am I a servant? Eyes, sunken, with withered skin I'm waiting for my fix Ding-ding Bloop! Pinggg Here comes the dopamine! — —Clicketyclick

0

Oct 23, 2014

Oct 23, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC

gigi-tiji

Dystopian Screengazing

Clicketyclick — sickly screens, shooting sixty picture-frames per second Tickety ticktock, rapid-fire photon cannons, ripping holes through our faces rectangles, riddled with anxiety ridden read scripts the resultant retinal scarring Wicketywicked, weary eyes, dripping with serrated pixels triple dotted, typing-awareness indicators create silly suspenses, inducing temporal dramas, emotional micro-traumas every second a slice through my, now practically nonexistent, patience Am I a server, or am I a servant? Eyes, sunken, with withered skin I'm waiting for my fix Ding-ding Bloop! Pinggg Here comes the dopamine! — —Clicketyclick

39

Our pens have blood for ink, scarring these pages forever.

0

May 18, 2014

May 18, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC

betweenthelines

Pens (10w)

Our pens have blood for ink, scarring these pages forever.

2

Habits Gluttony Greed Bribery Lustfulness Passed down Generation After generation After generation After generation Okay, I get it, it get it You get it, you get it. Let's get personal Born set up for failure My statistics not looking bright First baby born of color born into A family of strictly whites Grandmother beat my mother When she discovered The life forming inside of her Was half black - Don't cry mother, or I'll whither Inside of you. I grew and grew Taught lies upon lies About myself The other half of me. The only love I knew was of my mother. There was no other - Until she started to take it out on me Habits Passed From generation upon generation. She was sick and tired of being Sick and tired Stomped to the ground due to her Kindness Abused emotionally due to her Selfless-ness Mistreated physically due to her Weakness She took it out on me. Cornered me to a wall Choked me up Laughing - she couldn't get enough Of the amusement of my pain All done in vain Because she couldn't stop the strain Put on her brain. Scarring my face Pulling my hair Public places Not a care - Kicking Scratching Pulling Biting The agony The hate The battle wounds The hurt The scars - On my heart. Habits Passed from generation To generation To generation I was sick on the inside My heart - suffering - never ending bleeding My brain Psychologically ill Flashbacks I locked myself up in my room Head in pillow Screaming louder than your annoying baby sister who throws her unnecessary temper tantrums In the middle of the night. I tied myself up mentally Stuck Self-hate Self-abuse Self-hurt In the sixth grade I to myself - I wanted going to **** And my victim was myself. Filled with the poison - I was ill Injected with self-hate Hated my family Hated all my traits Hated all forms of humanity. Habits Passed From generation to generation To generation.

0

Oct 11, 2014

Oct 11, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC

stephanie-holloway

Poisonous Habits

Habits Gluttony Greed Bribery Lustfulness Passed down Generation After generation After generation After generation Okay, I get it, it get it You get it, you get it. Let's get personal Born set up for failure My statistics not looking bright First baby born of color born into A family of strictly whites Grandmother beat my mother When she discovered The life forming inside of her Was half black - Don't cry mother, or I'll whither Inside of you. I grew and grew Taught lies upon lies About myself The other half of me. The only love I knew was of my mother. There was no other - Until she started to take it out on me Habits Passed From generation upon generation. She was sick and tired of being Sick and tired Stomped to the ground due to her Kindness Abused emotionally due to her Selfless-ness Mistreated physically due to her Weakness She took it out on me. Cornered me to a wall Choked me up Laughing - she couldn't get enough Of the amusement of my pain All done in vain Because she couldn't stop the strain Put on her brain. Scarring my face Pulling my hair Public places Not a care - Kicking Scratching Pulling Biting The agony The hate The battle wounds The hurt The scars - On my heart. Habits Passed from generation To generation To generation I was sick on the inside My heart - suffering - never ending bleeding My brain Psychologically ill Flashbacks I locked myself up in my room Head in pillow Screaming louder than your annoying baby sister who throws her unnecessary temper tantrums In the middle of the night. I tied myself up mentally Stuck Self-hate Self-abuse Self-hurt In the sixth grade I to myself - I wanted going to **** And my victim was myself. Filled with the poison - I was ill Injected with self-hate Hated my family Hated all my traits Hated all forms of humanity. Habits Passed From generation to generation To generation.

94

your curves are **** beautiful your legs that show tiger marks your thighs that were created by streaks of waves the arms and calves build with love they are criticized judged by the eye of everyone hello? is this fat? *** that’s gross they say avoiding contact with the realistic things words do cut deeper than knives and the thoughts were too cruel running in my veins me being fed so i changed ate a little starved myself commitment to such self abuse being embarrassed of how the curves of my body shapes me why oh why? who are you now now i’ve got bruises forming everywhere on my body scarring my pale tan skin or should i describe it as ash gray dead? never would’ve thought that every words that build up in my mind became so life threatening how they slay my emotions and torture me with pressure sorry dear self for making you suffer trying to fit in the wrong crowd taking all these diets and pills to make myself gorgeous but in the end the smile begun to fade dark circles started to show up and my perfect days were daunted by the sickness of me, anorexia.

0

Aug 22, 2018

Aug 22, 2018 at 10:28 AM UTC

CarmellaRose

sticks and bones

your curves are **** beautiful your legs that show tiger marks your thighs that were created by streaks of waves the arms and calves build with love they are criticized judged by the eye of everyone hello? is this fat? *** that’s gross they say avoiding contact with the realistic things words do cut deeper than knives and the thoughts were too cruel running in my veins me being fed so i changed ate a little starved myself commitment to such self abuse being embarrassed of how the curves of my body shapes me why oh why? who are you now now i’ve got bruises forming everywhere on my body scarring my pale tan skin or should i describe it as ash gray dead? never would’ve thought that every words that build up in my mind became so life threatening how they slay my emotions and torture me with pressure sorry dear self for making you suffer trying to fit in the wrong crowd taking all these diets and pills to make myself gorgeous but in the end the smile begun to fade dark circles started to show up and my perfect days were daunted by the sickness of me, anorexia.

45

I don't know much about Jellyfish, but I do know of a girls biggest wish is to become one of those fish and oh, she would fit. The female Jelly of a rare species, one of the most beautiful, divine finds. A very rare kind, that would ever so shine, there's only one of it's kind, it leaves me so blind. The gentle Jelly so breathtaking that it takes away all of my oxygen, The Jelly's, heart breaking. She's so damaged, she's dead on the inside with many different strings loosely draping among with her, it's a representation of all of her past, so terrible, I wonder if I could fix that? I don't know if there's a Jellyfish that continuously changes colors in a glowing manner, but she would. This is why this Jellyfish would be the rarest. This Jellyfish would glow colors of Yellow,Purple,Gray,Black,Blue, and Red. The yellow would be her happiness, though it may be the rarest of her colors. Purple, would be her scars. Black, is her hidden irrationality that I wont ever let her drown in, in her wonderful blue lit sea. Gray, would portray something like the clouds on a rainy day, something that keeps her happiness hidden. Blue, a very sad colored blue that would be the color of her tears that I try to wipe and keep away, this blue is more distinct than the color of the waters she lives in because it represents only her pain and only comes out of her. Red, would represent her recent scarring's, a recent ****** wound that has just been cut or even a wound that will not disappear. The Jellyfish being through all that she has been through still continues to float among the sea, a weak, but also a strong Jellyfish as my bubbles keep her afloat, I wont ever let the waves engulf her. The persistent sea critter drifts delicately reminiscing, but not forgetting.

0

Aug 3, 2015

Aug 3, 2015 at 3:37 AM UTC

SwaglordSensei

The Everlasting Oceans Luminance

I don't know much about Jellyfish, but I do know of a girls biggest wish is to become one of those fish and oh, she would fit. The female Jelly of a rare species, one of the most beautiful, divine finds. A very rare kind, that would ever so shine, there's only one of it's kind, it leaves me so blind. The gentle Jelly so breathtaking that it takes away all of my oxygen, The Jelly's, heart breaking. She's so damaged, she's dead on the inside with many different strings loosely draping among with her, it's a representation of all of her past, so terrible, I wonder if I could fix that? I don't know if there's a Jellyfish that continuously changes colors in a glowing manner, but she would. This is why this Jellyfish would be the rarest. This Jellyfish would glow colors of Yellow,Purple,Gray,Black,Blue, and Red. The yellow would be her happiness, though it may be the rarest of her colors. Purple, would be her scars. Black, is her hidden irrationality that I wont ever let her drown in, in her wonderful blue lit sea. Gray, would portray something like the clouds on a rainy day, something that keeps her happiness hidden. Blue, a very sad colored blue that would be the color of her tears that I try to wipe and keep away, this blue is more distinct than the color of the waters she lives in because it represents only her pain and only comes out of her. Red, would represent her recent scarring's, a recent ****** wound that has just been cut or even a wound that will not disappear. The Jellyfish being through all that she has been through still continues to float among the sea, a weak, but also a strong Jellyfish as my bubbles keep her afloat, I wont ever let the waves engulf her. The persistent sea critter drifts delicately reminiscing, but not forgetting.

24

Being wounded deep, it may leave a blemish that serves as a reminder for the times of vulnerability. *Have you ever wondered why there’s hardly any remnant left to remind you of happiness?* Scars may have been a proof of sadness. For some, it’s a prompt of pain. Remember this: **Your happiness does not need any scarring but it will always be embedded in your memory.** Your happiness is intangible yet it brings a sensation that can be felt through the heart.

0

Mar 3, 2017

Mar 3, 2017 at 12:58 PM UTC

A-Tango

HAPPY SCAR

Being wounded deep, it may leave a blemish that serves as a reminder for the times of vulnerability. *Have you ever wondered why there’s hardly any remnant left to remind you of happiness?* Scars may have been a proof of sadness. For some, it’s a prompt of pain. Remember this: **Your happiness does not need any scarring but it will always be embedded in your memory.** Your happiness is intangible yet it brings a sensation that can be felt through the heart.

15

if you look up, you will see the bright-eyed and the wide-mouthed— the interesting, the casual, the adored glistening in the warm night peered at through microscopes and telescopes and stethoscopes far and far away we are so desperate to be close close and close and close enough to see the blemishes the scarring and the peeling effaced by obvious and biased inner-commentary they’re just not as red or sore as mine perhaps they were formed under a different kind of sun what does the unfamiliar heart say? does it sound at all like mine? will i ever escape the sloppy grasp of dullness? will the world swallow me whole? if i count the days on both hands on toes, on eyelashes— if i only eat green things and read tattered books and pretend that i don’t mind—will i ever break the mirror? will i find seven years of good luck between the jagged edges? to exist as a reflection is to not exist at all there are lonely, dark purple heavens waiting for you to sever your longing gaze to stop lying to yourself to hop onto the back of the cow and begin living somewhere beyond the moon— to realize, with closed eyes you belong to the sky

0

Aug 28, 2018

Aug 28, 2018 at 4:36 PM UTC

madisen

orion

if you look up, you will see the bright-eyed and the wide-mouthed— the interesting, the casual, the adored glistening in the warm night peered at through microscopes and telescopes and stethoscopes far and far away we are so desperate to be close close and close and close enough to see the blemishes the scarring and the peeling effaced by obvious and biased inner-commentary they’re just not as red or sore as mine perhaps they were formed under a different kind of sun what does the unfamiliar heart say? does it sound at all like mine? will i ever escape the sloppy grasp of dullness? will the world swallow me whole? if i count the days on both hands on toes, on eyelashes— if i only eat green things and read tattered books and pretend that i don’t mind—will i ever break the mirror? will i find seven years of good luck between the jagged edges? to exist as a reflection is to not exist at all there are lonely, dark purple heavens waiting for you to sever your longing gaze to stop lying to yourself to hop onto the back of the cow and begin living somewhere beyond the moon— to realize, with closed eyes you belong to the sky

37

*She’s touched By the burning fingers Of a man She doesn’t know. Her hopes crushed By the feeling that lingers Of a night She will always know. Her clothes ripped Her unheard cries, Her body stripped To fight she tries. Her face is kissed By a stranger The man, he hissed She’s in danger. She is left rotten As he walks past Disappearing into the night Time drags. She thought she’d die She believed she would No one to hear her cry No one understood. With shaky fingers And sweating chest She wraps her skin In clothes of strength. She stumbled across On to the street She’s suffered a loss A tragedy. She thought she’d die But now she wouldn’t She didn’t cry She knew she shouldn’t. A girl is strong A girl can fight Right or wrong A bird’s flight. She walked home In clothes of pride Although scars showed She didn’t hide. Justice to her Must be given A promise to her Must be written. A girl is not A piece of meat A girl is worth More than this feat. A kiss from a stranger A touch from a finger A scream that’ll linger For years to remember. A girl is much more She isn’t to blame, Fire at the core A burning flame. All it takes Is a scarring explosion From girls sick Of ruthless exploitation.* ***She fights like a girl She runs like a girl She hits like a girl She is a girl. She's got the strength And the power To rule the world And to conquer.***

0

Jul 18, 2014

Jul 18, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC

sasha-ranganath

Conquer

*She’s touched By the burning fingers Of a man She doesn’t know. Her hopes crushed By the feeling that lingers Of a night She will always know. Her clothes ripped Her unheard cries, Her body stripped To fight she tries. Her face is kissed By a stranger The man, he hissed She’s in danger. She is left rotten As he walks past Disappearing into the night Time drags. She thought she’d die She believed she would No one to hear her cry No one understood. With shaky fingers And sweating chest She wraps her skin In clothes of strength. She stumbled across On to the street She’s suffered a loss A tragedy. She thought she’d die But now she wouldn’t She didn’t cry She knew she shouldn’t. A girl is strong A girl can fight Right or wrong A bird’s flight. She walked home In clothes of pride Although scars showed She didn’t hide. Justice to her Must be given A promise to her Must be written. A girl is not A piece of meat A girl is worth More than this feat. A kiss from a stranger A touch from a finger A scream that’ll linger For years to remember. A girl is much more She isn’t to blame, Fire at the core A burning flame. All it takes Is a scarring explosion From girls sick Of ruthless exploitation.* ***She fights like a girl She runs like a girl She hits like a girl She is a girl. She's got the strength And the power To rule the world And to conquer.***

72

Outcast. I trust too much. I love too little. I don't fit in. I shouldn't live this way. None of that matters. Let the pain flow. Let it follow the blood. The blood flows from me. Scars mark my wrists. Seeing them brings back memories; Memories not of flowing blood, But of the reasons behind it. Lost love. Used by many. Scarring memories, Now remembered by true scars. They will never leave me So I'll always be haunted. Haunted until it all hurts too much And the blood flows again. Recurring memories Forever haunt me. I'd rather forget. Wish they'd be Outcast.

0

Mar 19, 2012

Mar 19, 2012 at 4:21 AM UTC

rachel-klein

Outcast

Outcast. I trust too much. I love too little. I don't fit in. I shouldn't live this way. None of that matters. Let the pain flow. Let it follow the blood. The blood flows from me. Scars mark my wrists. Seeing them brings back memories; Memories not of flowing blood, But of the reasons behind it. Lost love. Used by many. Scarring memories, Now remembered by true scars. They will never leave me So I'll always be haunted. Haunted until it all hurts too much And the blood flows again. Recurring memories Forever haunt me. I'd rather forget. Wish they'd be Outcast.

26

from the pile of ashes the figure arose in a Phoenix like pose his wings were blackened by the fire's torch the feathers bore the marks of an inferno's scorch forever he'd wear the burn's scarring as a reminder of his marring from the pile of ashes the figure arose in a Phoenix like pose on spread wings in the heavens he again soars ascending above the flame's raging roars his being flying free a mythical flight rising to cast off the searing's blight from the pile of ashes the figure arose in a Phoenix like pose

0

Aug 26, 2016

Aug 26, 2016 at 8:46 PM UTC

ElizabethSquires

Phoenix Like Pose

from the pile of ashes the figure arose in a Phoenix like pose his wings were blackened by the fire's torch the feathers bore the marks of an inferno's scorch forever he'd wear the burn's scarring as a reminder of his marring from the pile of ashes the figure arose in a Phoenix like pose on spread wings in the heavens he again soars ascending above the flame's raging roars his being flying free a mythical flight rising to cast off the searing's blight from the pile of ashes the figure arose in a Phoenix like pose

30

Verse one: Sands of time pour into my heart of glass Slowly filling every crack and break Wearing away your bittersweet stains A dim, flickering light in the back of my soul I'll be alright, pale morning sun awaken me Chorus: Your era is gone and i'm moving along Rushin' on by, the sands of time Look at the floor or look at the cold in your eyes My head is up 'cause of sands of time Verse 2: Scarring the wounds and tearing baggage apart Of the feeble at mind, the weak at the knees, and restless hearts Innocence locked away safe and sound And though some of its gone I am no longer bound 'Cause I don't need you to find my sound Chorus: Your era is gone and i'm moving along Rushin' on by, the sands of time Look at the floor or look at the cold in your eyes My head is up 'cause of sands of time Bridge: I am fine, time is mine, and i'll change time You may have healed my heart but you tossed it aside And you're gonna need time to see where I go Right into the depths of the darkest of souls My dim light will ignite the world Chorus: Your era is gone and i'm moving along Rushin' on by, the sands of time Look at the floor or look at the cold in your eyes My head is up 'cause of sands of time And my head is up 'cause of sands of time.

0

Mar 25, 2014

Mar 25, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC

song-writing

Sands of time (song lyrics)

Verse one: Sands of time pour into my heart of glass Slowly filling every crack and break Wearing away your bittersweet stains A dim, flickering light in the back of my soul I'll be alright, pale morning sun awaken me Chorus: Your era is gone and i'm moving along Rushin' on by, the sands of time Look at the floor or look at the cold in your eyes My head is up 'cause of sands of time Verse 2: Scarring the wounds and tearing baggage apart Of the feeble at mind, the weak at the knees, and restless hearts Innocence locked away safe and sound And though some of its gone I am no longer bound 'Cause I don't need you to find my sound Chorus: Your era is gone and i'm moving along Rushin' on by, the sands of time Look at the floor or look at the cold in your eyes My head is up 'cause of sands of time Bridge: I am fine, time is mine, and i'll change time You may have healed my heart but you tossed it aside And you're gonna need time to see where I go Right into the depths of the darkest of souls My dim light will ignite the world Chorus: Your era is gone and i'm moving along Rushin' on by, the sands of time Look at the floor or look at the cold in your eyes My head is up 'cause of sands of time And my head is up 'cause of sands of time.

34

*This blade controls me This blade enters my skin without stuttering This blade knows it's home within me This blade hasn't yet cut too deep but has taken my life, you see This blade is my life now This blade slices through my skin like a hot spoon through butter This blade draws art on my wrists and writes stories on my thighs This blade will one day end my total existence This blade is my addiction, you see This blade has become my infatuation This blade is wrecking me This blade is scarring my skin with shiny white lines This blade makes me joyous This blade forces me to cut my activities short so it can cut my skin This blade is my bestfriend, because when This blade allows the red to run free of my flesh, I get giddy with excitement This blade comforts me This blade will be here 'till the end...*

0

Apr 7, 2014

Apr 7, 2014 at 2:58 AM UTC

mikaylalafontaine

This blade

*This blade controls me This blade enters my skin without stuttering This blade knows it's home within me This blade hasn't yet cut too deep but has taken my life, you see This blade is my life now This blade slices through my skin like a hot spoon through butter This blade draws art on my wrists and writes stories on my thighs This blade will one day end my total existence This blade is my addiction, you see This blade has become my infatuation This blade is wrecking me This blade is scarring my skin with shiny white lines This blade makes me joyous This blade forces me to cut my activities short so it can cut my skin This blade is my bestfriend, because when This blade allows the red to run free of my flesh, I get giddy with excitement This blade comforts me This blade will be here 'till the end...*

18

writing over and over again like a naughty schoolboy, repeating i will not disrespect the teacher i will not disrespect the teacher until the lesson is scarred into his mind and the paper except i'm not a naughty schoolboy i'm a brokenhearted, ignorant girl trying to get it through my head you don't like me back. i have no feelings for you i have no feelings for you i have no feelings for you i have no feelings for you i write. and write. because that's what you told me. not ceasing until i will learn the lesson myself, but now it's my heart being scarred

0

Apr 14, 2013

Apr 14, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC

maddie-d

Scarring Repetition

writing over and over again like a naughty schoolboy, repeating i will not disrespect the teacher i will not disrespect the teacher until the lesson is scarred into his mind and the paper except i'm not a naughty schoolboy i'm a brokenhearted, ignorant girl trying to get it through my head you don't like me back. i have no feelings for you i have no feelings for you i have no feelings for you i have no feelings for you i write. and write. because that's what you told me. not ceasing until i will learn the lesson myself, but now it's my heart being scarred

17

i've always suffered with acne. i've written about it before. but yeah, it started really in 7th grade. it was one then two then a whole family then before i knew it, my face was red and bumpy and it hurt. i've tried everything. i really mean it. every home remedy, every recommendation, every tip, every product on the shelf and a few online. nothing's really helped. throughout these years and i'm now a ------ and i still deal with it. because of my acne, it's taken a huge toll on how i view myself and how i feel about myself. i used to hate myself. i would only look in the mirror once every day and that's to put on makeup to cover scarring and acne that's still there. i hated myself. so much. i wouldn't go out. my parents, specifically my mother, had a lot to say about my face. she would point it out even when i had makeup on and it made me really insecure. now, i think differently. i'm currently breaking out because i ate a small piece of meat. (which i don't really do, because i don't eat meat anymore. i did it for reasons which isn't relevant right now lol) so yeah, my face is red and bumpy again. washing my face with my eyes closed, i can really feel the pimples. it made me feel disgusting for a moment. but i had to remind myself that it's okay. i'm different now, i don't really care if i break out anymore. of course, i still feel a bit insecure but i don't hate myself because of it. i still feel like i did when i wasn't breaking out. seeing my face like this has really been a sign for me as saying to myself: 1. don't eat meat anymore, under any circumstances/situations 2. it's okay i'm okay with my acne that i had in the past now and i'm okay with the breakout i'm currently having.

0

Jul 23, 2018

Jul 23, 2018 at 2:02 AM UTC

omw2you

acne and how my face is looking right now and how i feel about it

i've always suffered with acne. i've written about it before. but yeah, it started really in 7th grade. it was one then two then a whole family then before i knew it, my face was red and bumpy and it hurt. i've tried everything. i really mean it. every home remedy, every recommendation, every tip, every product on the shelf and a few online. nothing's really helped. throughout these years and i'm now a ------ and i still deal with it. because of my acne, it's taken a huge toll on how i view myself and how i feel about myself. i used to hate myself. i would only look in the mirror once every day and that's to put on makeup to cover scarring and acne that's still there. i hated myself. so much. i wouldn't go out. my parents, specifically my mother, had a lot to say about my face. she would point it out even when i had makeup on and it made me really insecure. now, i think differently. i'm currently breaking out because i ate a small piece of meat. (which i don't really do, because i don't eat meat anymore. i did it for reasons which isn't relevant right now lol) so yeah, my face is red and bumpy again. washing my face with my eyes closed, i can really feel the pimples. it made me feel disgusting for a moment. but i had to remind myself that it's okay. i'm different now, i don't really care if i break out anymore. of course, i still feel a bit insecure but i don't hate myself because of it. i still feel like i did when i wasn't breaking out. seeing my face like this has really been a sign for me as saying to myself: 1. don't eat meat anymore, under any circumstances/situations 2. it's okay i'm okay with my acne that i had in the past now and i'm okay with the breakout i'm currently having.

8

There is a mineshaft in my chest -- my heart scales down the lines, dropping into my stomach graceful, a trapeze artist descending from above There is a tranquility here, a blinded heaven scarring across my eyelids This ghostly skin shakes me awake, screaming ripping like paper between the sheets, I am stuck with a glue I never spilled The lotus unfolding back and forth, a sick dance twisting in front of me, the memories in my head convulsing like they're trying to restart my heart, I always knew the end would be brighter than the beginning, the candlelight of my birth painting pictures I'll never get to see because this heart, it weighs me down a death I never felt roaring in my chest -- And this waterfall will never reach the pond.

0

Mar 20, 2012

Mar 20, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC

loewen-s-graves

Love is watching someone die.

There is a mineshaft in my chest -- my heart scales down the lines, dropping into my stomach graceful, a trapeze artist descending from above There is a tranquility here, a blinded heaven scarring across my eyelids This ghostly skin shakes me awake, screaming ripping like paper between the sheets, I am stuck with a glue I never spilled The lotus unfolding back and forth, a sick dance twisting in front of me, the memories in my head convulsing like they're trying to restart my heart, I always knew the end would be brighter than the beginning, the candlelight of my birth painting pictures I'll never get to see because this heart, it weighs me down a death I never felt roaring in my chest -- And this waterfall will never reach the pond.

39

brisk. jagged. grainy. your words dance across my innocence. "im sorry," mumbled. whispered. poisoned. cynical are those words aiming to **** forcing to struggle, eternally scarring. once, i believed you. thought it was real, and you actually cared; that's when your intentions became art. my body the canvas, your words the brush. my emotions the paint, your mind the audience.

0

Apr 16, 2015

Apr 16, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC

thingsnotspoken

my body was your canvas

brisk. jagged. grainy. your words dance across my innocence. "im sorry," mumbled. whispered. poisoned. cynical are those words aiming to **** forcing to struggle, eternally scarring. once, i believed you. thought it was real, and you actually cared; that's when your intentions became art. my body the canvas, your words the brush. my emotions the paint, your mind the audience.

19

I think I would like to make a home of your body Like the dens I used to make with my siblings, Before I started saying "no thanks". To take a doctor's scalpel, Clean and new and never used And so very, very sharp And to rest it in the hollow just where the breastbone ends. Then to push it in along your soft smooth shiny skin So unlike the mottled scarring that covers mine. Down, down, down To where you wear the waistband of your jeans. A horizontal swipe at the top, At the bottom, Like making the fold of a window in a paper house. Shh, is anyone home? Lifting the heavy, wet flesh, Your rib cage is so very white And so very perfect Like special cutlery for special occasions- Births and weddings and funerals. They hide your lungs, Bloodshot and tired of the Eternal Moving and moving and moving on and on and on Your stomach, soft And vulnerable in its hideousness Yet it hides the despicable necessity Of human life. And your heart, Plump and fresh and young, It is restless and strains But for what when all that lies outside Is incomprehensible and unnerving and unwelcoming. So I will leave it all behind And with damp heavy fatigue crawl Into your torso like the unborn child We have all been and will be again. And your ribs will cradle me like a birdcage That has grown so sick of the world, And your organs will cushion and comfort me When I feel that I do not want to live. And blood will cover everything Just as I have always wanted. Flooding my eyes and nose and mouth and ears And bathing me in the warmth, the constant gentle pounding, That would make me feel alive.

0

May 13, 2014

May 13, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC

anna-bhk

Bodies

I think I would like to make a home of your body Like the dens I used to make with my siblings, Before I started saying "no thanks". To take a doctor's scalpel, Clean and new and never used And so very, very sharp And to rest it in the hollow just where the breastbone ends. Then to push it in along your soft smooth shiny skin So unlike the mottled scarring that covers mine. Down, down, down To where you wear the waistband of your jeans. A horizontal swipe at the top, At the bottom, Like making the fold of a window in a paper house. Shh, is anyone home? Lifting the heavy, wet flesh, Your rib cage is so very white And so very perfect Like special cutlery for special occasions- Births and weddings and funerals. They hide your lungs, Bloodshot and tired of the Eternal Moving and moving and moving on and on and on Your stomach, soft And vulnerable in its hideousness Yet it hides the despicable necessity Of human life. And your heart, Plump and fresh and young, It is restless and strains But for what when all that lies outside Is incomprehensible and unnerving and unwelcoming. So I will leave it all behind And with damp heavy fatigue crawl Into your torso like the unborn child We have all been and will be again. And your ribs will cradle me like a birdcage That has grown so sick of the world, And your organs will cushion and comfort me When I feel that I do not want to live. And blood will cover everything Just as I have always wanted. Flooding my eyes and nose and mouth and ears And bathing me in the warmth, the constant gentle pounding, That would make me feel alive.

46

I had a blue phase But it wasn’t a sad phase More of a ‘you’ phase Because you are so blue To your very core But a happy overly friendly and helpful blue With its sorrows hidden away in its rich depth And purple undertones After meeting you And being with you It’s impossible not to associate you with blue Considering your slightly insane obsession with it But it’s also funny Since blue is the ocean, the river, the deep cool lake Or the overly chlorinated public pool And you can’t swim a stroke Oh irony… You are irony The nice guy that wouldn’t ever hurt me But who made me hurt myself the most Trying to protect The one I was already so close to A relationship shouldn’t have been much of a stretch But the one I ended up farthest from The one who wrote melodies in scores Just for me But the reason I stopped playing Music reminds me too much of you You are music The deep melodic kind that touches the soul The way you touched my heart Gently and sweet So moving and tear jerking In you sad purple undertones You are rain That slips through my fingertips Leaving only the vague impression of ever being there at all Only a slight bit of azure beneath my nails But you are flames across my heart Scarring deeper than you’ll ever know Warmer than I’ve been in the longest time You are the sun Warming everything about you And shedding bright light on all my flaws You are wind Whispering your way in through the cracks in my soul But intangible as ever Still you push through Leaving blue in your wake On my sunglasses That block out the sun and your brilliance Because it hurts so much when I’m so dull My candles That feed my pyromaniac addiction to flames I’m just always addicted to that which can bring me pain My clothes The ones I bought just to please you And to get your attention of course Even my diary Where all my laments over you reside Blue Like you I had a blue phase And I can’t seem to get rid of it

0

Jun 4, 2012

Jun 4, 2012 at 1:28 AM UTC

annabel-lee

You and Blue

I had a blue phase But it wasn’t a sad phase More of a ‘you’ phase Because you are so blue To your very core But a happy overly friendly and helpful blue With its sorrows hidden away in its rich depth And purple undertones After meeting you And being with you It’s impossible not to associate you with blue Considering your slightly insane obsession with it But it’s also funny Since blue is the ocean, the river, the deep cool lake Or the overly chlorinated public pool And you can’t swim a stroke Oh irony… You are irony The nice guy that wouldn’t ever hurt me But who made me hurt myself the most Trying to protect The one I was already so close to A relationship shouldn’t have been much of a stretch But the one I ended up farthest from The one who wrote melodies in scores Just for me But the reason I stopped playing Music reminds me too much of you You are music The deep melodic kind that touches the soul The way you touched my heart Gently and sweet So moving and tear jerking In you sad purple undertones You are rain That slips through my fingertips Leaving only the vague impression of ever being there at all Only a slight bit of azure beneath my nails But you are flames across my heart Scarring deeper than you’ll ever know Warmer than I’ve been in the longest time You are the sun Warming everything about you And shedding bright light on all my flaws You are wind Whispering your way in through the cracks in my soul But intangible as ever Still you push through Leaving blue in your wake On my sunglasses That block out the sun and your brilliance Because it hurts so much when I’m so dull My candles That feed my pyromaniac addiction to flames I’m just always addicted to that which can bring me pain My clothes The ones I bought just to please you And to get your attention of course Even my diary Where all my laments over you reside Blue Like you I had a blue phase And I can’t seem to get rid of it

64

The last swallow swooped a departing circle spiraling low over dusk reaped fields of stunted straw. Corn harvest gathered, hay baled for winter feed store. Gold trashed under combine tracks and tractor trails scarring the soil which birthed it. The swallow's the last wings of a fading love. The field a churned despondent heart. The crop waning memories, nothing more.

0

Sep 9, 2015

Sep 9, 2015 at 6:49 PM UTC

grumpythumb

The last swallow

The last swallow swooped a departing circle spiraling low over dusk reaped fields of stunted straw. Corn harvest gathered, hay baled for winter feed store. Gold trashed under combine tracks and tractor trails scarring the soil which birthed it. The swallow's the last wings of a fading love. The field a churned despondent heart. The crop waning memories, nothing more.

10

I am a ***** of the very worst kind Not of *** and promiscuity A ***** of my own Creation You come up on my radar Latch Seek Destroy And you will never know Each and every one of my Dead lovers Never loved me back Tear them up Spit them out Abandoned Just like me But I hurt I feel emotion Like clods of dirt Inside my chest Rip it open Scream at each Small thing Wrong thing I want only this That I can never have Curses Plagues Dead Ex-lovers Stars in their eyes That look past my Efforts Hints Advances I am invisible Invincible Or so I like to think The invisible ***** You never saw me coming Till I cry these three tears Drop Drop Drop Two from the right One from the left Just like the rest So many to name That wouldn’t even know my Hurt Abandonment What have you done to me? Nothing It is I Only I Want so desperately To touch To be touched 3 little tears come from Within this cold hard Clenched fist Wetting my palm Trying to escape Flung at your calm Silent face. I want to be empty I want to not feel this Gift. Emotion. In the pit of my stomach Back of my throat Behind these eyes Sick And they fall One Two Three The time it takes to Break Die Latch Seek Destroy I am on a rampage To eat each man up Bone by bone Flesh and blood Thoughts and loves Till I spew it all back out To every person I meet I am a ***** of the very worst kind I’ve been everywhere Nowhere Inside everyone No One You cannot pay for me. I’m too cheap. You do not want me I am curse Brought on by Liars Abusers Molesters I am the product of A past Mistakes And I want you to Make me better But I become Worse Liken me please To those on the street Full of disease Because I am worth Nothing Of your time Energy Nothing And I expect Nothing more Than this Agonizingly Painful You Are just like Everyone else That I never wanted you To be So much more than Dead Ex-lovers Death from their lips In long streams of wire Attached at my wrists Ankles Binding me Cutting deep Blood Red Stains like my shirt Cutting me Scarring me Until I feel so much Nothing And uncountable tears Flood cities Destroy taverns Come knocking Breaking free Again And again And again And you are The same As those Starry-eyed, wire binding Dead Ex-Lovers So much alive Reminding me of every Failure Each scar on my wrist In the form of a name And now you join the rest In this shallow unmarked grave You are alone With them And I will Consume this hurt Like a breakfast Of nails and tacks Each bite will puncture The last remaining composure Till I am nothing once again Radar Radar Detecting Latch Seek Destroy All over again The very worst kind

0

Aug 13, 2011

Aug 13, 2011 at 6:58 PM UTC

lydia-samantha

*****

I am a ***** of the very worst kind Not of *** and promiscuity A ***** of my own Creation You come up on my radar Latch Seek Destroy And you will never know Each and every one of my Dead lovers Never loved me back Tear them up Spit them out Abandoned Just like me But I hurt I feel emotion Like clods of dirt Inside my chest Rip it open Scream at each Small thing Wrong thing I want only this That I can never have Curses Plagues Dead Ex-lovers Stars in their eyes That look past my Efforts Hints Advances I am invisible Invincible Or so I like to think The invisible ***** You never saw me coming Till I cry these three tears Drop Drop Drop Two from the right One from the left Just like the rest So many to name That wouldn’t even know my Hurt Abandonment What have you done to me? Nothing It is I Only I Want so desperately To touch To be touched 3 little tears come from Within this cold hard Clenched fist Wetting my palm Trying to escape Flung at your calm Silent face. I want to be empty I want to not feel this Gift. Emotion. In the pit of my stomach Back of my throat Behind these eyes Sick And they fall One Two Three The time it takes to Break Die Latch Seek Destroy I am on a rampage To eat each man up Bone by bone Flesh and blood Thoughts and loves Till I spew it all back out To every person I meet I am a ***** of the very worst kind I’ve been everywhere Nowhere Inside everyone No One You cannot pay for me. I’m too cheap. You do not want me I am curse Brought on by Liars Abusers Molesters I am the product of A past Mistakes And I want you to Make me better But I become Worse Liken me please To those on the street Full of disease Because I am worth Nothing Of your time Energy Nothing And I expect Nothing more Than this Agonizingly Painful You Are just like Everyone else That I never wanted you To be So much more than Dead Ex-lovers Death from their lips In long streams of wire Attached at my wrists Ankles Binding me Cutting deep Blood Red Stains like my shirt Cutting me Scarring me Until I feel so much Nothing And uncountable tears Flood cities Destroy taverns Come knocking Breaking free Again And again And again And you are The same As those Starry-eyed, wire binding Dead Ex-Lovers So much alive Reminding me of every Failure Each scar on my wrist In the form of a name And now you join the rest In this shallow unmarked grave You are alone With them And I will Consume this hurt Like a breakfast Of nails and tacks Each bite will puncture The last remaining composure Till I am nothing once again Radar Radar Detecting Latch Seek Destroy All over again The very worst kind

182

waves and waves of crushed ice rolling over tumbling scarring. more wine please over my crushed ice please.

0

Feb 6, 2015

Feb 6, 2015 at 6:44 PM UTC

sunstarsmoons

scar

waves and waves of crushed ice rolling over tumbling scarring. more wine please over my crushed ice please.

10

i fell into a deep hole 6 feet steep in demented people a crimson liquid comes up from subtle muddled tugs of dark artistic blades sharpened & parked in place are scarring my heart from the arch in my back while i'm starting to starve for a part of your laugh but your stabbing tactics, adverbs grabbed to get me back with, are childish attacks on your selfish self for what has happened you cant even admit the **** you brag about in private settings & you'll deny & lie to try & find a way to die without regretting but i guarantee it wont work i've been there when i was younger you're just building up the thunder to be burned & buried under & the stress is infested with aggressive death messages when all your best friends' chests are ****** messes

0

Feb 7, 2010

Feb 7, 2010 at 6:52 PM UTC

jerbz

"friends"

i fell into a deep hole 6 feet steep in demented people a crimson liquid comes up from subtle muddled tugs of dark artistic blades sharpened & parked in place are scarring my heart from the arch in my back while i'm starting to starve for a part of your laugh but your stabbing tactics, adverbs grabbed to get me back with, are childish attacks on your selfish self for what has happened you cant even admit the **** you brag about in private settings & you'll deny & lie to try & find a way to die without regretting but i guarantee it wont work i've been there when i was younger you're just building up the thunder to be burned & buried under & the stress is infested with aggressive death messages when all your best friends' chests are ****** messes

19

when you fall in love with an angel, you must understand that there are things you will never understand. - when you first go to run your hands through her hair, her halo will slice your palm. and it will hurt like hell. she will mend it with the touch of one golden finger, and leave so abruptly that she is gone almost before you even blink. the thing you will see is her at the doorway. terrified eyes, blood stained hair. (later, she will tell you that she never realized how breakable humans could be. when she explains what it takes to make an angel bleed, you begin to understand ) - ask her about the sky, about stars and suns and galaxies light years away. ask her whether or not the universe looks like a blooming garden. never ask about lucifer - she will become a soldier before your eyes. and not, do not, donot, ask about god. do not ask about rebellious older brothers and absentee mothers. (do not infer about a war you know nothing of) - in a science class you are taking simply for extra credit, your teacher will be talking about quantum physics. he will explain galaxies and refer to stars as "celestial bodies," but you won't be listening. suddenly you will only be able to think of the way her mouth curls at the sides, of the way her golden skin glows, of all the puckered scars that crisscross her torso, of the graceful arch on the bottom of her foot. celestial bodies are certainly on your mind but they are so much more than gas and light and heat and touch and --- oh heavens --- when the teacher asks if you are alright, you will flush an even deeper red. supernova. (at times it is lovely to be in love with an angel. but at other times, it is not) - beware when you fight, it is like the world is ending. her anger conjures a thunderstorm, and soon the entire country is three inches deep in water. you shatter a picture frame. a bolt of lightning catches the house across the street on fire. you are screaming at the top of your lungs – something about duty, something about god – and there is a crash of thunder that shakes the foundations. the weathermen talk about the storm for days. you flinch and change the channel. (no matter how right she is, she will always let you win) - there are times when she won't visit for months on end, and when she finally comes back to you, she is not herself. there are new scars across her chest, and she does not speak. she sits with you in her arms for hours, her nose buried in your hair, and her arms squeezed tight, so tight. she does not cry. you do not cry. you do(not) cry. (but you do remember the miles and miles of white scarring. you wonder if angels are as immortal and unbreakable as they think)

0

Nov 14, 2017

Nov 14, 2017 at 5:25 AM UTC

Espressopatronums

ephemeral

when you fall in love with an angel, you must understand that there are things you will never understand. - when you first go to run your hands through her hair, her halo will slice your palm. and it will hurt like hell. she will mend it with the touch of one golden finger, and leave so abruptly that she is gone almost before you even blink. the thing you will see is her at the doorway. terrified eyes, blood stained hair. (later, she will tell you that she never realized how breakable humans could be. when she explains what it takes to make an angel bleed, you begin to understand ) - ask her about the sky, about stars and suns and galaxies light years away. ask her whether or not the universe looks like a blooming garden. never ask about lucifer - she will become a soldier before your eyes. and not, do not, donot, ask about god. do not ask about rebellious older brothers and absentee mothers. (do not infer about a war you know nothing of) - in a science class you are taking simply for extra credit, your teacher will be talking about quantum physics. he will explain galaxies and refer to stars as "celestial bodies," but you won't be listening. suddenly you will only be able to think of the way her mouth curls at the sides, of the way her golden skin glows, of all the puckered scars that crisscross her torso, of the graceful arch on the bottom of her foot. celestial bodies are certainly on your mind but they are so much more than gas and light and heat and touch and --- oh heavens --- when the teacher asks if you are alright, you will flush an even deeper red. supernova. (at times it is lovely to be in love with an angel. but at other times, it is not) - beware when you fight, it is like the world is ending. her anger conjures a thunderstorm, and soon the entire country is three inches deep in water. you shatter a picture frame. a bolt of lightning catches the house across the street on fire. you are screaming at the top of your lungs – something about duty, something about god – and there is a crash of thunder that shakes the foundations. the weathermen talk about the storm for days. you flinch and change the channel. (no matter how right she is, she will always let you win) - there are times when she won't visit for months on end, and when she finally comes back to you, she is not herself. there are new scars across her chest, and she does not speak. she sits with you in her arms for hours, her nose buried in your hair, and her arms squeezed tight, so tight. she does not cry. you do not cry. you do(not) cry. (but you do remember the miles and miles of white scarring. you wonder if angels are as immortal and unbreakable as they think)

15