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"taunt" poems
There were dividing lines between Springfield and Mariners Gate soft, subtle lines that spoke of origin and code and biting union it was all the reason for being; alive and living dead or dying deep in a pack of pint size resistors hell bent on the marsh crow and cannabis tower jumping the rush with *** shots and anchors and tribunals camouflage creepers and transient floaters marked rebellion at the gates (skullduggery and taunt high on their favor list) jack straws and flat paddles for the evening charade beakers and flailing hands from the foot washing baptist (the Pleasant Street conservatives with their own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”) there's a lingering effect to this sentiment (evident in the pump house stride) the river winds blow gently into the night as the huddling packers and **** backs chase the evening hours it’s a bitter sweet end of an era; those traction bars hood scoops and nickel bags will always be the rage
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Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 11:13 PM UTC
Blood lines
The eyes of a supernova seeping into mine So harsh, so hot, but so soft, so loving Passionate but patient So much in so few It’s so warm Cheeky grins and burning desire taunt me So painful, so explosive but so comforting, so alluring Painstaking but playful Ablaze though we’re scared It’s extraordinary There’s no words to match this melodic image So sweaty, so intense but so quiet, so calm Dreamy but real Like a fantasy It’s blissful The sensation of fire melting to stardust Embrace it, taste it, love it, feel it Crafted and delicate Two stars colliding His pulsating heartbeat needs me My longing kiss needs him He’s my lover boy And I’m his It’s so warm
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Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
Lover Boy
dissociation a curse dissociation my enemy enemy barges in enemy takes control control is crippling control must go go seek advise go to friends friends may ignore friends may listen listen to god listen to nothing nothing is something nothing is numbing numbing craves alcohol numbing craves drugs drugs are prescribed   drugs will fix fix my brain fix cracked mirrors mirrors taunt me mirrors tell lies lies i tell lies cover bruise bruise my hand bruise my brother brother is silent brother please forgive forgive me father forgive me mother father please help father is futile futile defines me futile invites suicide suicide with pills suicide i survived survived from coma survived in hospital hospital is helpful hospital gives answers answers for family answers to problems problems with doctors problems with diagnosis diagnosis is discovered diagnosis is depersonalization depersonalization creates poet depresonalization becomes mad mad poet
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Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
enemy within depersonalization (Blitz)
A wild flight into drizzled dark night The chorus line thumping Overcome by roar and strain Of metal tested to limits as we race An endless risk disregarded as thought And the sound of a bright giggle Wondrous eyes lit in thrill of threat Fear has no place in this setting A manic gleam and set to her face Sharing a secret as we laugh and howl Because this is who we are For all out control and desire We scream endlessly through life eternally silent Until we do not have to be And in glory we release! Fear is a thing to be learnt A feeling to ******* and freeze Is it felt here? A resounding no! Shatters the question In the screech of tires In the surge of adrenaline In the wild savage smile of freedom Of a shout into the night in defiance of order! Does my heart race as we tear around? Not even a tremor! Until I turn, My face from the moaning wind rushing past And i gaze upon this savage exposed Lips pulled back in ferocious glee A focused and fierce glare to the world We deny life and taunt the spectre Come to us, we cry! The paths are slick with tears of the gods The roads tempestuous writhing in deceit I sit in peace, relaxed A warrior companion at my side We know no fear of what may come For trust Ah trust Is the colour of life Ever shadowed as a challenge to endings! She lights as a fire of the brightest stars And i would embrace her Burning endlessly.
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Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
Trust
Creeping voices in the night Shadows lurking out of sight Haunt me till the morning's light No sleeping for me tonight Looking at my bedroom door My feet barely touch the floor Something whispers down my core Something that I can't ignore Melted candles in my hand Things I would not understand My hope slips away like sand This was not what I had planned Slowly walking down the stairs Feel a breeze sweep through my hair Shadows lurk; in silence stare Naked thoughts are all I wear Out of breath I walk outside Shaking fear that builds inside No more places left to hide Guilty thoughts of mine collide Drenched in coward's blood and fear I lost those who I held dear It's all blurred, nothing is clear Shadows from my past appear As the silence speaks to me Gets too loud it deafens me My past will not leave me be Pain and torment I foresee Dazed and drawn by these lost souls Broken thoughts I can't control Ghosts slip through this gaping hole Darkness has taken its toll From the darkness dreams come out Nightmares flailing all about Closing in, I hear them shout It's the end, I have no doubt "What the hell is it you want?" They retreat and me they taunt One emerges, tall and gaunt "Your life we will no more haunt." "You have paid for your wrongdoing," He tells me, his voice booming "This is now your redeeming You are free." he says smiling I look at the rising sun I no longer have to run My sentence is served and done The ghosts have finally gone.
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Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
Wake
they’re pouring out of the woodwork those pretentious machiavellians in ailing albino frames eccentric masked figures milling about the glow light like night moths in a london fog lunatic gazers with seeping moles pinned by frogmen and twine spider climbers in hell fire splitting seams on the fading and hideous ink guards of the perch stand on hades hand while monsters and demons with severed limbs taunt the condemned and wanting souls of the ****** cauldron fire in blood red sky silent screams hack and wheeze gas lines broken words unspoken teetering backwards in the dark shadows of a phantom abyss
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Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 2:08 PM UTC
the eye of hieronymus bosch
Knights clad in paper armor Draw their pen-shaped swords In preparation for battle Against the dragon named Algebra All year they've trained for this day Poring over musty tomes Filled with archaic battle plans Entire armies have been lost In the dangerous search For the elusive variable called X The informants A and B Have consistently given Inconsistent information And the number line Has completely deserted them The numbers taunt the knights Mocking their puny calculators Confident in their unanswerable status Yet one by one The polynomials fall The dragon bows it's head The Knights have won the day.
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Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 7:24 PM UTC
Battle for the Final Exam
raindrops bounce on the window frame, reminding me we're in this room together. your words are raindrops playing on my metal frame - nowness splatters into existence - you remind me that someday we won't be in this room together. you repeat endlessly between my ears - I sing along to my favorite song - I want to tell you all the lyrics but my words fall like raindrops. unspoken are my tear-shaped raindrops - their tremors taunt me on this side of the pane - you remind me that we were always in the wrong alternate universe. the raindrops refract your light, dissolving a warm glow into the evening fog, you remind me that you're gone. maybe the rain stopped, but the silence is only the absence of your voice, the rest is just noise. I think of our raindrops now - smiling - knowing that you have an umbrella.
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Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
raindrops
Our old uncle, Daedalus,      he'd grin when he spoke to us His mouth was missing teeth and so his wisdom flowed out free He always smelled of cheap cigars      alleyways and corner bars He'd tell us he had seen the world      and this was his decree:      "Don't fly too high, you little *****        You just might live to pay for it.        The Sun is always hot,        the ground gets harder every day." "But, Daedalus," we would complain, "You are old and we would fain see the sights you saw before           we sleep beneath the clay." And dear old Uncle Daedalus      he'd laugh and spit and swear at us "You ******* little ***** had better heed the tale I tell. This life is one big ******* maze with twists and turns and tricks to play. The kings control the monsters, who make Earth a living Hell." We'd try to listen, try to thank him for the words, but his breath stank and, anyway, we thought that he                had prob'ly **** himself But dear old Uncle Daedalus hung Death from lips that spoke to us and ****** if he weren't right about the things he always said: "Inventiveness works, by and by with daring, you may taunt the sky                                    like I did                                   but the fall is long-- my dreams and son are dead." He always smelled of cheap cigars      alleyways and corner bars "You ******* little ***** had better heed the tale I tell..." "Don't fly too high, you little ***** You just might live to pay for it. The kings control the monsters, who make Earth a living Hell."
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
Dear Old Uncle Daedalus
Our old uncle, Daedalus,      he'd grin when he spoke to us His mouth was missing teeth and so his wisdom flowed out free He always smelled of cheap cigars      alleyways and corner bars He'd tell us he had seen the world      and this was his decree:      "Don't fly too high, you little *****        You just might live to pay for it.        The Sun is always hot,        the ground gets harder every day." "But, Daedalus," we would complain, "You are old and we would fain see the sights you saw before           we sleep beneath the clay." And dear old Uncle Daedalus      he'd laugh and spit and swear at us "You ******* little ***** had better heed the tale I tell. This life is one big ******* maze with twists and turns and tricks to play. The kings control the monsters, who make Earth a living Hell." We'd try to listen, try to thank him for the words, but his breath stank and, anyway, we thought that he                had prob'ly **** himself But dear old Uncle Daedalus hung Death from lips that spoke to us and ****** if he weren't right about the things he always said: "Inventiveness works, by and by with daring, you may taunt the sky                                    like I did                                   but the fall is long-- my dreams and son are dead." He always smelled of cheap cigars      alleyways and corner bars "You ******* little ***** had better heed the tale I tell..." "Don't fly too high, you little ***** You just might live to pay for it. The kings control the monsters, who make Earth a living Hell."
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45
Hello my name is... Girl, child and I've been stereotyped, by what society wants, Because they pull me and taunt, at what I deserve, they just want our curves, So hello my name is... Girl, child and I've been stereotyped.
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Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
Hello my name is...
Ah, the season of gifting. Antagonist of year-long thrifting. Tradition sadistic, Materialistic, Four quarters in pockets worth sifting. This year I hereby proclaim I shan’t be consumed by the game. Cycle of curse Purpose perverse The namesake, an oversight became. Christ’s birth did in fact begin, Holiday distracted by sin. Misguided it be To forget idly The sacrifice He made for all men. We naively regard generosity As holiday’s behavioral piosity. But if dollars and cents Are the tools of offense Over shadow favor luminosity. Water in Africa is ***** American child in poverty. Politics aside, Convenient homicide, To enable the ills of society. In the global economy we flaunt Wealth by comparison, bitter taunt. First world problems abound Pass the turkey around Central heating and air, what a jaunt! What if this season we decide To extend two palms open wide? Sacrificing ourselves Rather than stocking our shelves Dying whispers echo true: “we tried.” Don’t spend your money on me this year. Not iPhones, not tickets, not Blu-ray or beer. Instead know you can Distribute more than A snort, a lie, and a tear. (optional conclusion to assist interpretation of last line) Snort of derision, Lies of provision, Tears, even true, Hardly subdue Anguish deprived of tradition’s revision.
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Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
Stewardship (a series of limericks)
Tell me why it seems like the walls are closing in Tell me why my hopes they're stretched far and thin Tell me why my dreams still struggle in this fight Tell me why every time I draw air but it feels so tight. Tell me why in this turmoil my heart does wallow Tell me why lifes' lessons by the heapfuls I choke to swallow Tell me why I'm somewhat free but then again I am not Tell me why I really do have but I haven't really got. Tell me why I try to sleep many a restless night Tell me why I am so afraid of many a fearful fright Tell me why I still feel the way I have felt before Tell me why I ask many questions which leaves me broken and sore. Tell me why so much emotions run amok within me Tell me why I look yet I do not really see Tell me why despondence is back; it's here to haunt Tell me why such uncertainties always beckons to taunt. Tell me why I want more but I am quite contented Tell me why I have to accept the path I've very much resented Tell me why I already know but I still keep on asking Tell me why it seems like the reasons are in every way lacking. Tell me why I feel so happy but in fact I am so sad Tell me why it all seems unfair but I have to be glad Tell me why I found love in the most unfortunate circumstance Tell me why to a mournful tune I am stuck in dance. Tell me why my heart feels engorged but I can't release it all Tell me why I am so scared but I would still want to fall Tell me why I feel you close when you're farther than far Tell me why it seems incredulous that we share the same star. Tell me why I long to give you more when I can't this instant Tell me why I can feel better but I seem so resistant Tell me why sometimes I look up and curse at my luck Tell me why I refuse to focus on courage that I really should pluck. Tell me why I lay in bed dreaming of a place far away Tell me why I find myself moping more and more each day Tell me why I chose to be naive and in fate I do give trust Tell me why time and time again it just gets ground to dust. Tell me why I feel so beaten and weak when I should be strong Tell me why I am so familiar in a place I don't belong Tell me why I have to live with a mask on my face Tell me why I feel like a marionette strung up by lace. Tell me why I dug deep when these words make me cry Tell me why the tears still trickle when my eyes are dry Tell me why I share this when I know you would feel bad Tell me why I would even spout the words that make you sad. Tell me why these painful wounds I didn't choose to lick Tell me why I didn't let them heal but instead I would pick Tell me why I feel as though I am quite addicted Tell me why it seems like I enjoy the dark I've inflicted. Tell me why sometimes I question, the things you see in me Tell me why you've said it many times but I don't really see Tell me why I haven't drifted far when I should've a while ago The reason is you; because you have chosen to love me.
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Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
Digging Deep
Tell me why it seems like the walls are closing in Tell me why my hopes they're stretched far and thin Tell me why my dreams still struggle in this fight Tell me why every time I draw air but it feels so tight. Tell me why in this turmoil my heart does wallow Tell me why lifes' lessons by the heapfuls I choke to swallow Tell me why I'm somewhat free but then again I am not Tell me why I really do have but I haven't really got. Tell me why I try to sleep many a restless night Tell me why I am so afraid of many a fearful fright Tell me why I still feel the way I have felt before Tell me why I ask many questions which leaves me broken and sore. Tell me why so much emotions run amok within me Tell me why I look yet I do not really see Tell me why despondence is back; it's here to haunt Tell me why such uncertainties always beckons to taunt. Tell me why I want more but I am quite contented Tell me why I have to accept the path I've very much resented Tell me why I already know but I still keep on asking Tell me why it seems like the reasons are in every way lacking. Tell me why I feel so happy but in fact I am so sad Tell me why it all seems unfair but I have to be glad Tell me why I found love in the most unfortunate circumstance Tell me why to a mournful tune I am stuck in dance. Tell me why my heart feels engorged but I can't release it all Tell me why I am so scared but I would still want to fall Tell me why I feel you close when you're farther than far Tell me why it seems incredulous that we share the same star. Tell me why I long to give you more when I can't this instant Tell me why I can feel better but I seem so resistant Tell me why sometimes I look up and curse at my luck Tell me why I refuse to focus on courage that I really should pluck. Tell me why I lay in bed dreaming of a place far away Tell me why I find myself moping more and more each day Tell me why I chose to be naive and in fate I do give trust Tell me why time and time again it just gets ground to dust. Tell me why I feel so beaten and weak when I should be strong Tell me why I am so familiar in a place I don't belong Tell me why I have to live with a mask on my face Tell me why I feel like a marionette strung up by lace. Tell me why I dug deep when these words make me cry Tell me why the tears still trickle when my eyes are dry Tell me why I share this when I know you would feel bad Tell me why I would even spout the words that make you sad. Tell me why these painful wounds I didn't choose to lick Tell me why I didn't let them heal but instead I would pick Tell me why I feel as though I am quite addicted Tell me why it seems like I enjoy the dark I've inflicted. Tell me why sometimes I question, the things you see in me Tell me why you've said it many times but I don't really see Tell me why I haven't drifted far when I should've a while ago The reason is you; because you have chosen to love me.
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52
his breath woke me up every night we lay in bed; no, it wasn't that his breath smelled of toxins, but of dandelions and poppies. his hair smelled like he rolled around in fields of roses and he was the single dandelion that begged and pleaded to fit in. he would never fit in but he didn't know that, so he kept trying and it was so beautiful to say the least. underneath his skin, in-between his veins and his bones are tiny seeds that i planted with kisses and they grow with my love, when i wrap my bony arms around him and squeeze tightly - it lets him know that he's not normal, that he's not right in the head but i love that. so when he wakes me in the middle of the night, as i lie between him and the emptiness of the night, i think that i'm dying but the moon light lingers and i know i am safe with his flower breath and the weeds growing in-between us and the roots that grow out of my heels and strangle the love picture frames on our off-white bedroom wall. i stare at those cookie-cutter pictures and wish i wasn't right in the head, too, but if we both were psychotic, he wouldn't be a dandelion. so i stay awake and watch his beauty radiate in the darkness of the night and wish that i was that beautiful too. but he tells me that my battle wounds don't amount to anything to him, that my skin is a ghost to him. i wish he saw me for me, but his eyes see the beauty that he grows. but several nights he leaves me and i am cold and i am worthless and i pray to a god that he will come back and taunt me because i cannot stand it when he is not here between my fragile arms keeping me warm and safe. i beg him when he returns to just stay the night, just one more night, because i cannot bare to sleep without the dandelion amidst all the rose petals. i need my dandelion to keep me safe and to be the needle in the haystack - i need him to be in my arms because idon'twanttosleepalone.
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Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
please stay, i don't want to sleep alone
his breath woke me up every night we lay in bed; no, it wasn't that his breath smelled of toxins, but of dandelions and poppies. his hair smelled like he rolled around in fields of roses and he was the single dandelion that begged and pleaded to fit in. he would never fit in but he didn't know that, so he kept trying and it was so beautiful to say the least. underneath his skin, in-between his veins and his bones are tiny seeds that i planted with kisses and they grow with my love, when i wrap my bony arms around him and squeeze tightly - it lets him know that he's not normal, that he's not right in the head but i love that. so when he wakes me in the middle of the night, as i lie between him and the emptiness of the night, i think that i'm dying but the moon light lingers and i know i am safe with his flower breath and the weeds growing in-between us and the roots that grow out of my heels and strangle the love picture frames on our off-white bedroom wall. i stare at those cookie-cutter pictures and wish i wasn't right in the head, too, but if we both were psychotic, he wouldn't be a dandelion. so i stay awake and watch his beauty radiate in the darkness of the night and wish that i was that beautiful too. but he tells me that my battle wounds don't amount to anything to him, that my skin is a ghost to him. i wish he saw me for me, but his eyes see the beauty that he grows. but several nights he leaves me and i am cold and i am worthless and i pray to a god that he will come back and taunt me because i cannot stand it when he is not here between my fragile arms keeping me warm and safe. i beg him when he returns to just stay the night, just one more night, because i cannot bare to sleep without the dandelion amidst all the rose petals. i need my dandelion to keep me safe and to be the needle in the haystack - i need him to be in my arms because idon'twanttosleepalone.
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59
Everything is fine Until you pop into mind. In a casual thought Or a dream so vivid I can almost touch you Why? When he has done so much to help me heal from you But you are still here to taunt me in my mind You were the thing I wanted, but could never have in the end In my dreams, he taught me many things He let me laugh He never disregarded my heart Or payed more attention to himself He let me do things you never would have accepted with ease. But still, we always go back to those who cage us in As much as we realize it is not for the best We still subconsciously want it Because we get used to our cage It is home
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Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
The Seducing Cage
Memories crying, screaming to be heard. Try as I might to bury these amidst busy days, still they rise from the backyard of my mind haunting my dreams, making youth a nightmarish memory. Empty rooms cry out in agonizing silence. White ghosts float on lifeless bodies with the same question; why? Anxious moments still taunt just beyond of safety. The sickness that gave birth to this still clouds the mind.   So long ago, a lifetime to make peace, still lucid moments of torment making March an anniversary dirge. It makes no sense to cry for those gone, for mortals spent in tragedy, yet every year I try to understand once again, why?
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Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 12:22 PM UTC
IN MEMORY OF MARCH, 1963
Those 'little lies’ you tell me Always come back to haunt me You think not more but for yourself And pretend that you adore me Through manipulation You create my frustration and make me feel lonely You taunt me with your 'little lies’ And use me like an object You pull me close when you're feeling sad But don't catch me when I'm falling You tell me that we're the best of friends Yet you leave me when I'm hurting Your 'little lies’ always end in tears Just admit that you don't love me
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Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 10:28 PM UTC
Little Liar
Stuck at this game, In what seemed like forever. Stuck at a stage where... Experience points don't matter. A game set in an expansive universe, Rife with problems that arise to haunt. You can't pass and can't concede defeat. Troubles' only function is to mock and taunt. I've chafed my thumbs raw... Manipulating the knobs on my controller. My mind is a mess... In search of a happily ever after. Puzzled by puzzles, There are no cheat codes... Can't blast my way through, There are no god modes... Neither are there any hints, Nor is there a walkthrough... I'm just running in perpetual circles, In this game of me and you.
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Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
The Game
Dancing and twirling Devilish thoughts They taunt They sing And laugh an eerie song I know every word Every down beat and note I sing a long every day Catchy tunes They get stuck in your head Even when there is no physical sound It repeats And repeats On and on Like a chanting spell Like a screaming cry This suicide song It won't let me die
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Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 3:06 AM UTC
Suicide song pt2
There is no moral code When time is an icy road Where you cannot stop Or you'll be stuck in the cold ground When the temperature drops Snow collects in my frosty frown And starts to linger On my frostbite fingers While I keep sliding On the line we're riding I see icy roads Leading to icy modes Of acting Impacting The way we treat each other The same way we beat each other To the finish line Of our frigid time Time isn't nice When it's ice But it's all we know Time continually goes The challenges grow Buried in snow Trying to go uphill is a nasty nope Sliding downhill is a slippery slope If you momentarily lose your control You're pulled over by the cops on patrol Everything is covered in snow Even the cars being towed Their owners gave away their agency And are at the tow truck driver's mercy They rely on him to get them to safety So they cunningly wear his jersey There are things we want Acquired by tease and taunt We drive on top of bodies To gain traction on the street We do what is naughty To have enough to eat I careen through time Without seeing a dime Everything looks so plain In this frozen rain When the ordinary life Is within my sight I look for something more Only to see a frozen door There is ice on the road There is ice in my heart I can't handle the load In the back of my cart Until I decide To abide By the slide And glide On the edge of control and freedom There are other cars and I'll lead them
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Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 2:03 AM UTC
Icy
“You’re overweight,” he says, tapping his finger against his chart of heights and measurements, thighs too big and fingers too plump. I already know. I nod, and continue nodding, listening to the word echo and then fall onto the ground, bouncing and bounding, restrictions that have surrounded my whole life, my whole curvy figure. If I could be like the girls with the flesh wrapped tight and the bones loose and caving in on one another, I would grab the chance before it had a chance to flutter away from my desperately aching hands. When I look in the mirror, I try to remind myself that flaws are flaws and yet they were made to be beautiful, but I see what I see and what I see makes me want to ***** makes me want to close my eyes, makes me want to pull and tug and rip until there is nothing left but a pile of rotting decay. I am stuck, I am back on the playground in sixth grade where the boys would taunt and laugh, point and gasp, as I tried to pretend I looked like everyone else, every other small, petite little girl who didn’t have to worry about these types of things. My clothes don’t fit, I’ve gone through seven pairs of jeans in the last month alone, I look back at the pictures when I thought I was fat, but I wasn’t, I was fine then, why did I think that? I lay in bed beside the man I’m supposed to be with, fully clothed and pushing his hands away from my hips, away from my lips, don’t touch me then if you can’t handle all that I have to give. I’m not her, and she never wished to be me.
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Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 5:19 PM UTC
curvy
“You’re overweight,” he says, tapping his finger against his chart of heights and measurements, thighs too big and fingers too plump. I already know. I nod, and continue nodding, listening to the word echo and then fall onto the ground, bouncing and bounding, restrictions that have surrounded my whole life, my whole curvy figure. If I could be like the girls with the flesh wrapped tight and the bones loose and caving in on one another, I would grab the chance before it had a chance to flutter away from my desperately aching hands. When I look in the mirror, I try to remind myself that flaws are flaws and yet they were made to be beautiful, but I see what I see and what I see makes me want to ***** makes me want to close my eyes, makes me want to pull and tug and rip until there is nothing left but a pile of rotting decay. I am stuck, I am back on the playground in sixth grade where the boys would taunt and laugh, point and gasp, as I tried to pretend I looked like everyone else, every other small, petite little girl who didn’t have to worry about these types of things. My clothes don’t fit, I’ve gone through seven pairs of jeans in the last month alone, I look back at the pictures when I thought I was fat, but I wasn’t, I was fine then, why did I think that? I lay in bed beside the man I’m supposed to be with, fully clothed and pushing his hands away from my hips, away from my lips, don’t touch me then if you can’t handle all that I have to give. I’m not her, and she never wished to be me.
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1
Talk to me, I haven't heard your voice enough For it to taunt me. Talk to me, Your silence is the only song That comes to haunt me.
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Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 7:48 PM UTC
Talk
Girly. You call me girly. When I wore pink, You called me girly, And said I was trying to be "the stereotype of femininity". I just wanted to wear pink. When I wore a skirt, You called me girly. Said I was just trying to impress boys and be slutty. When I went out with a boy, You called it "the death of feminism" And when I cried, You laughed and said "Cry, then, girly." I- wait. I am a girl. If I am a girl, I must be girly. And so you must be girly too. Since when has being a woman been a slur? All these angry ****** women, Trying to make their taunts noble, By hiding behind a noble title that they don't hold- Feminist. They simply like to taunt, shame, bully Other women, who don't fit into their archetype of ****** insecurity and violent jealousy. They don't care about the sexism, that goes on daily, Internationally, globally, yet never seems to end. Oh no, they do not see the bigger picture. You do not see the big picture. It's just you against another girl, And you trying to justify your actions By misusing that word, That word you just love to misuse, Feminism. So go ahead. Call me girly. I'll be glad, I'll be proud. You just called me a woman.
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
Girly.
Surrounded by flame i see the false memories Tricks of demons burnt away Demons of hell couldnt do this Demons of my own creation Demons who seek to pull me down My demons,the ones who swim and i cant drown or choke The ones who tear me apart all day The ones who say im worthless and stupid The ones who say im fat and ugly The ones who say i do not deserve happiness unless i suffer for it The ones who wont let me be selfish no matter how small the wish The ones who taunt me with childhood memories The ones who cant let me forget what is real The ones who laugh when i cry because my dreams betray me I cannot escape I will never escape myself I am alone in my mind and even though my love tries he can never understand There is not a love on this earth and in this place that could understand I betray myself and berate myself to keep things simple I break myself down so no one else can I break myself down to build up a wall with my heart My castle around my heart is my soul Made to be scary Made to defend a void that is behind it Made so in order to let down my walls i must break myself
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Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 5:05 AM UTC
Demons of a Berated Heart
If they taunt me I'd flaunt myself around them I'd mesmerize everything I had with if I were to be a lesbian I'd say that would be pretty amazing.. loving your own type falling for your own kind like forever? Could you? you,the one pleasuring youself with  late night ************ process is the one that complains? when someone gives same pleasure to the one, of their type you'd say NATURE that's not fair oh ! Selfish creature how could you wish the world be same? straight is not a gender,so isn't gay,lesbian we all are human,that's what matters if you couldn't accept people loving their own kind you'd better start hating yourself cause they are loving themself like you do at late nights so if I were to be a lesbian that wouldn't be problem for my kind.
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Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC
If i were to be a lesbian..