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Aditi Apr 18
I wonder if you have scars,
To me, they would shine as if stars.
The luminaires without which
the night sky would be melancholic.
You are Imperfectly Perfect;
this might sound a little hyperbolic.

I wonder if you hate those cuts,
The ones that you shrouded with all your gut.
They are not scars, but stories.
Marking on the frame of your soul, a territory.
You are Perfectly Imperfect;
I hope you know what this reflects.

Time heals all wounds,
and leaves the scars.
How else would you know,
that you are a survivor?
If you have ever struggled with scars (could be from anything), then this one id for you. I hope nothing for you but to feel secure in your own body. I want to tell you that the scars don't make you worth any less. The only thing they make you is Unique. So make sure to wear with your head held high. I hope the hard times pass soon and you get better!
SøułSurvivør Mar 2014
It was the
RIGHT
Thing to do
Why do I feel so

WRONG?

Soul Survivor
I just feel as though my heart is broken in a zillion places!
SøułSurvivør Mar 2014
God does not
~ pour molds ~

He lovingly creates
EACH
VESSEL
By

~ HAND ~


minimal
Soul Survivor
storm siren Nov 2016
I stare at the comment
On someone else's post
On another website.

I stare,
And I can barely feel my eyes brimming
With tears.

How quick you are
To devalue
Something so horrific.

And I'm completely aware
That there are some women,
And some men,
Who use the phrase
"****** assault,"
As some kind of scapegoat
To get off free from some type of experience
That they decide they regret
That they decide months after the fact
That they didn't want
I am aware
That this happens.

I am also aware
That there is a war on people,
And it is being led
By other people.

It is a war on something meant to be held close,
And dear,
And sacred.
A war on a way you're supposed to show another person,
Who is also of age,
That you care for them,
And only if they're also consenting.

*** is supposed to be warm and beautiful
And good.
Right?

It's not supposed to be violent,
And ******,
And scary,
And filled with danger.
It's not supposed to make you want to burn off your skin
When someone else so much as caresses your hand.

It isn't supposed to make you shut down
And feel sick.

I have nightmares almost every night
Of something that started when I was no more than sixteen.
I still wake up
Feeling like I can't breathe,
And I can still hear the rain and the thunder
Washing away my screams.

You can ignore this war all you want,
But did you know that one in every six women are sexually assaulted in one way or another?
Did you know that one in every thirty three men is survivor of ****** assault?
And one in every ten **** victims is male?

Every two minutes an American is sexually assaulted.
Did you know that?
12-34 year olds are most likely to be victims than anyone else.

I used to think all perpetrators of the crime
Should be strung up and fed to angry vultures,
But these days the PTSD has got me so bad
That I can't even come up with a valid argument
As to why.
HeatherBeth Mar 2016
Your words break me, shake me
But this is the way it had to be
I had to finally set you free
Baby I love you, can't you see
All the things I can't do for thee
A beautiful soul but you tread so hesitantly
For this world is not made of pleasantries
And my heart never came perfectly
It is a survivor of puppetry
Broken from insanity
Programed like a computer to flee
Victem to my faulty circuitry
Why do you insist to have this blasphemy
Is it really worth those small moments of glee
I'm sorry but I do not agree
You deserve so much more than this decree
And you heart might be left thirsty
But it is me who must carry on as an amputee
For you were like a leg that supported me
And I was a tumor that burdened thee
So now maybe you can live healthy
And awaken to a better reality
Lauren Feb 2015
jesus, youre an *******,
i guess i need to understand
what compels such actions
or the contempt in your eyes?

what did i do wrong?
i cant handle these guessing games
tell me what you dont understand,
let me clarify things.

maybe you forgot,
i have blood on my hands
fault in my heart;
i am a victim but a survivor too.
Kaddy Mar 2018
dancing and screaming
and beating my chest

a survivor in need of some rest

I will get through this

I will reclaim you

and we will rejoice
as I feel your weight
where it belongs

in the depths of my being
Matt May 2015
The History Extra Podcast
Product of the BBC

I heard a great talk from this series

The woman interviewed three women
In their 70's now

All born during the holocaust
Their mothers disguised their pregnancies
They were sent to a labor camp instead of Auschwitz

They did not draw attention to themselves
Surviving in baggy clothing
And clog wooden shoes

Surviving on bread, watery soup, and water
They were about 70 pounds

Two of them gave birth on the train
They held their babies close
In the bagging clothing

They still produced milk

They received some badly needed food in Czechoslovakia
The babies survived

All three of  the mothers were given too much food
By the Americans
And they did not make it
May they rest in peace

One baby had healthy conditions
But was treated with penicillin by the Americans
And was fine

These women met recently at a Holocaust survivor meeting
To share there stories

The love of the mother is great
Love is stronger than hate
SøułSurvivør Sep 2014
I had a spoken word poem produced
last year. You can find the link at:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=
IoAeA6nYH5A

You may have to stretch your mind to
credit this. But truth is stranger than fiction...


Soul Survivor
Catherine Jarvis
The poem is typed out on the screen
for easy reading.
SøułSurvivør Mar 2014
Silk with pearls
Spandex with glass

L O V E

brings all down

10W
Soul Survivor
REGARDLESS OF CLASS!
SøułSurvivør Sep 2014
Satan loves unforgivness.
It condemns two souls

at one time


10W
Soul Survivor
If you cannot forgive others,
God cannot forgive you.
And by not forgiving you hold
Another soul in *******!
Eric Martin Mar 2020
For ever I desire fire hire
Though this conspire requires providers to meat a fate most dire
I would be a liar to say I tire of their screams like a choir
Though inspired after what transpired
I'd still admire a survivor as a conscience purifier
For I wish for a pyre that doesn't acquire souls to sire
But I am not a crier, nor its designer and will comtinue to be the supplier of flesh until I retire and pay for all my sins with all my being and every fiber
For my sin to be burned entire for eternity by the fire I will always love and desire
And when a pay my price I will demand the flames higher
Rhyming practice. I got asked to do a 6 word poem challenge on Instagram and I forgot how that challenges are fun to me and helped me.make a poem and a picture to perfectly went with it, so I decided to challenge my self amd maybe use this for my next piece of art
Jeffrey Pua Feb 2015
Love...

It felt like beautiful cancer,
Said the cancer survivor.*

© 2015 J.S.P.
Draft.
The charity survivor drinks a Hari Krishna coffee at the back of Holborn station where the windows of museums stare blankly out on Lincoln's inn fields and the carpenter who watches from the corner by the taxi rank judges no one by their clothing or the way they hold their plastic cups,

the survivors only see themselves in passing car rear windows and in the blinking lights of Chubb security alarms on blackened doorways,

to survive in the impossible is not to look too closely at the person standing next to you or anyone who's scratching and survival is the key to going on and getting somewhere and it doesn't matter anywhere's a good place to move on to

and you drink your Hari Krishna dunking Garibaldi in the coffee donated rather grandly by the ladies from the institute.

Closing time, a clip from time is posted on your forehead and the sandwich in your pocket will have to keep until much later, but anywhere's a good place if you're hungry to be grateful.

Fade into the figments lining your imagination and disappear into the gathering of your day.
I understand the world
best as a challenge
a fight to win
or lose
survivor. warrior.
beaten and bruised
I understand life
best as a puzzle
something to be
unpicked and
pondered until
the pieces merge
together into a
jigsaw, jagged and
incomplete. I'm panicking
now, can you feel it?
feel it burrowing into
you like a root?
I will plant myself there
and grow. from your
ash stained heart,
a tree of pink blossom
flowers, blown
away in summer
but pretty for a
brief spring
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2020
Listen carefully

It may deceive
Being novel
For the reasons unknown
Corona is contagious

Stay
Ahead of it
Or behind
Spacing in between

Trust me
You will be safe
Survivor's guide
The way it is

Okay?
Genre: Clinical
Theme: Influenza
Clinical Note: Stay cautious, whom to keep distance, whom to get close.
Mohd Arshad Apr 2014
When the hopes
Are dead with the pallid leaves
And autumn hits on the back of mind
And eyes roll to find the remedy
For life needs some light to breathe
God sends spring, the survivor
Then white shawl It stretches out
And spills showers to cure paralyse
A new  birth on earth life takes
Where breeze plays on swinging strings
And raindrops dance on our floors
Alif Mar 2019
No surname for identification, no address for communication, no relations to own and no rights in my possession,
Discovered in the trash bin as long term survivor of affliction asphyxiation and malnutrition,
Given shelter yet brought up in isolation, called by names that describes my origin,
Denied basic human rights for I possess no rights to be born.,
I am by definition; An illegitimate result of legitimate love induced illicit physical union of a ****** woman with her unlawful man.,
While the sinful man and the woman are at relief that their sin is trashed away in the bin; My shoulders carry its burden and forever my peace and happiness are forbidden.,
Should I be Grateful to my fellow man who saved me from death to curse my birth all my life, Or to the God who created me as an illegitimate sign of a man's sin .,
it is not unusual in the world that one sins\wrongs\commit mistakes and the burden\guilt\pain is carried by an other-the self-proposed law of man
Andrew Rueter Oct 2018
Suspicion runs rampant
No trust can be found
Even when lies are recanted
To their nature we’re bound
Releasing the hounds
Silencing sounds
Of victims drowned

Suspicion exacerbation
From false accusations
Causing ****** lacerations
Through spatial relations
Like shared incarceration
Or the local fascination
With public *******
Or child molestation

There are horrible people out there
They lack moral fiber
They do the wrong thing consistently
So in order to feel dignity
They develop extreme compartments of honor
And search so hard for instances to use it
It often comes out at inappropriate moments
And is used as an opportunity to signal masculinity
Imagine the person constantly yelling
“No one talks **** about my family/religion/country”
Then flies off the handle at the slightest perceived insult
This person may care about what they’re defending
But their defense is about themselves
And how badass and imposing they are

Conclusion jumping
Hatred pumping
******* lumping
The convicted with the accused
So with that flawed logic used
They decide to mercilessly bruise
Somebody a liar happened to choose

Why do people not always believe victims of crime?
The existence of liars
Who taint society with their dishonesty
Yet will never have to face their own impact
By apologizing to a survivor no one believes
For it is their kind
Manipulating minds
Turning men blind
Until trust is resigned

The liars mix with buyers
Lighting the world on fire
Creating an awful empire
Where the innocent are *****
And the innocent are slaughtered
I don’t know much more I can take
When no one seems bothered

I don’t have any answers
If we make penalties harsher on liars
We could discourage actual victims
But the injustice victims of false accusations deal with
Fills my heart with immense anger and frustration
People have no faith in our flawed justice system
So they look inside their own incapable minds
Deeming themselves the arbiters of justice
Too stupid to understand their lack of moral authority
That savage nature is reflected in the punishment they inflict
Innocent people die in a dark and lonely cell
While the rest of us must live in this deceitful hell
Where our minds are infected by hatred’s smell
We must pull love up from the spiritual well
To shield us from the ceaseless church bells

Those who lie
Mix with grime
Taking time
Deciding who dies
Innocent cries
Muted by guys
Smart as flies
That hatefully wait
For someone to mutilate
So they can prove they’re great
We must grow before it’s too late
And begin living in an empathetic state
Lizzie Bevis Nov 2024
If I could reach beyond the veil
Where hidden misery and memories sail,
I'd dip my fingers into your fears
Rippling light through your toughest years.
Down into the chambers of your soul,
Through the spaces bruised and whole,
I'd pour the warmth of countless suns
Until each ill thought breaks and runs.

In your eyes, I see the pain,
Heavy like endless pouring rain.
I see the hurt that time can't mend,
The way your kind soul was forced to bend.
But, when I look at who you are,
Beyond the wounds and all your scars,
I see a light that burns so true
And a brave survivor inside of you.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Nicole Jun 2019
The walls were built high

High as a skyscraper

She told herself to be careful

To never get burned again

She looks to her left and she looks to her right

Who can she really trust?

When nothing is going right

But all seems to be going wrong

Looking for a way up

But she can barely claw her way out

The walls were built high

She was done wrong

Wrong for the words that were said

So strong they shattered and cracked her

Wrong for the men who abused her

Ripping her apart

Wrong for the mother who she wish she had

A mom that only wants to act like a mother when it’s convenient

The walls were built high

Maybe they can be chipped a little at a time

Letting someone in to heal her soul

And telling herself though she be but little she is fierce

Trying to imprint those positive words

Trying to believe them

Because weak she is not

She is strong and fierce

Resilient and a survivor

Though her heart was broken

It can be repaired

This is not the end of her story

She has many more years

Stories to tell

Victims/Survivors to help

Because her voice matters

This is not the end of her story

And her walls will come crumbling down

Because her true self deserves to be seen and heard

This is my story

And it’s not over
Minuscule oceans signal
The sun plays on the run
The equality of night , music of-
confused songbirds an brushing pine
Evening teardrops collect their prize
Damming the lame as well as the chastised
Whirlpools , swift green spirals
Charming the aware , the compliant ,
the mesmerized and the medicated , a
breathless survivor
Copyright June 26 , 2018 by Randolph L Wilson *All Rights Reserved
Eric Apr 2019
A knight travels by foot
Her treacherous journey

Across fields, she slay a fairy of deep ruby
Over mountains, she tricked a grizzly to jump, down, down, down
Through forests, she learnt magic from elves and banished them from existence

She is a hero, destined to survive.
The only survivor to escape the rampage
In search of its source
She will not be slowed, not a giant, a dragon, a witch
Nothing will cross her without certain death
She will stop at nothing to reach the king of the message

She has fought off the evil, which was everything good
It attempted to fight her and failed
And now she stands eye to eye with the last survivor on the planet
The source

She can take him with a single slice, spell, or illusion
And banish evil forever
Banish life forever

Humanity’s only hope lies in her blade
To be a hero, or be her hero
No matter, she will be a legend
But will her legend be told?
SøułSurvivør Sep 2014
Mould me
Shape me
You can't
Take me!
I'm in Him
You can't
Break me!
What goes down  must come up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What is spilt just leaves the cup!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Bump me! Bounce me! Hit me!!! Trounce me
Just you
Try and
Keep me
Down. I
Won't fight.
I won't
Frown!!!
In Christ
I'm strong
In Christ
I'm blessed
In Christ
My weakness
Becomes
My best!!!


Soul
Survivor
jo forstrom Feb 2014
Keeper Of The Wind.

Who goes there says I out loud

But there came no answer to my silly question

But the wind kept rattling itself outside and came in through each smallest crack

And I stood there so silently thinking who was it that just moaned
And out it came

A vapor that stunk of rotted old cheese

And I slumped over myself for I could not stand being consumed by this over offensive odor

And I grew ever so queasy inside of the deepest part of me

And it growled out at me that nasty oldest thing that now grew ever so tall in front of me

And he snickered out loud
and said in the gruffest voice

I am the master of the wind

The oldest survivor of all things

And you are now of me

And I was hurled forward deep within that humanless being until I was never more.

jo.
SøułSurvivør May 2014
I create.
I compose.
I don't compare.
I don't compromise.

I'm compulive
On my little computer.
I don't consider.
I don't compete...

I create.


Soul Survivor
I love aliteration!
John Dunn Aug 2023
I am in love that I am in war
All is fair enough concerning you
In love I am this bombshell of a *****

I sold your John on stocking strange armor
Up to tilt the standard to see through
I am in love that I am in war

Privately in part fatigued by the chore
Of putting on protection pending view
In love I am this bombshell of a *****

Ready to explode in gushing gore
For a beast blasting sheets off of the *****
I am in love that I am in war

The winner only is the survivor
And heroes died to land mine when it blew
In love I am this bombshell of a *****

On seven hills by waters sat down for
Blowing one becoming up to two
I am in love that I am in war
In love I am this bombshell of a *****
Satsih Verma Dec 2016
Under the pear tree
a **** survivor
wavers.

Elsewhere a moon
was sailing in
ghostwalk.

Unsteady in human
chain, you wanted
to know, what―

was the logic
behind the savage
metaphysics?

A curse becomes
a daily bread of the
tongueless victim.

How far do I go
to unearth the myths
of nodding religion?
Påłpëbŕå Apr 2024
Stood I staring at the building I once called- "My school"
With a heart so pure, I was too easy to befool.
All these years went by and yet the memories stayed,
Every night I cried, for the horrors to desipate- I prayed.

Yet every detail of that 'incident' clung to my bones like Ivy,
Making me curse myself for harbouring all the naivety.

Often wondered I- "Did I bring this upon myself?
Or maybe if I'd yelled a little louder that day, someone would've finally helped?
Was it my outgoing nature that made them think that I "wanted it"
Or was it the fact that I liked one of them is what "lured" him in?
In places where I didn't want to be touched or pried,
They took and took until I was destroyed and dead eyed;
Bleeding from every pore, torn from the inside,
I laid on the cold floor waiting for someone to stride,
And stop the two demons who's faces I still have registered in my brain,
The two humans who lost their humanity with evil flowing in their veins.

But nothing happened and no knight in shining armour came,
I was left there with my battered body and shattered soul, in vain.
It was only after hours of darkness that saw I some light,
That made me squint because it was too bright.
I got up- burning and tripped in the pool of my own blood,
That ripped a scream out of my lungs and made tears flood.
I rose again and again until I finally limped my way out,
Leaving behind the ashes of my former self- covered in a shroud.

I decided that I won't be a victim of what happened to me,
Rather believed that justice will be served and they shall see,
How I chose to not succumb to death and thus, had a rebirth,
And like the Phoenix- I came, I saw, I conquered my dearth.

So today, standing in front of the structure that housed my fears for so long, I ponder-
"What didn't **** me, has definitely made me stronger"
But I'm not a mere survivor who went on with her life like before,
Rather, I'm a warrior who slayed her fears and settled the score;
Suffering is my nectar, the energy source on which I run,
- A product of pain, an Angel, even though a fallen one.

So what if an example was set at the cost of me losing my innocence,
It made thousands of people stand up against the grave offence;
Striving each day to make this place safer for the entire human race,
And this, dear reader, will be enough for me to finally rest my case.
SøułSurvivør Mar 2014
Are like books.
Some are autobiographies...

... some pure fiction!


10W
Soul Survivor
Just so you know I have NOT forgotten the poet tree! I'm just working on it. News @ 11!!!
SøułSurvivør Mar 2014
Comedy and Tragedy.
Both are needed
to stage the play.

10W
Soul Survivor
(C) 2014
The masterpiece has shades of grey.

It is then the poet's task,
To portray both sides of the mask.

Catherine Jarvis
preservationman May 2014
All heroes in the armed services
The power to protect the U.S. base
Actions to defend and not be a waste
A salute in a job well done
The battle of conflict in winning as one
Bloodshed being one’s end
Wounds after wounds in the enemy in begin
A Soldier being more than just a name
Standing at a moments notice ready to take aim
It’s conflict being the blame
The fallen soldier being chosen
A remembrance being a thought in being risen
Rifle shots in your honor
A final salute
The trumpet plays being a ballad tot
The flag of America has it hangs high
The soldier of you and no question of why
A soldier’s heart became the solder’s strategy in knowing where to start
A tombstone with all the soldier’s names
We the survivor’s are who yet remain
The spirit of the soul in not being a game
A hand salute that is raised really high
Heaven’s voice marking wisdom’s thy
One more salute in carrying out our daily life

— The End —