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Literature Text
"who was she?"
They whispered.
Her ears burned.
Thoughts tossed about her room.
On the walls.
All over her floor.
The corners of her bed, where the sheets met the ground.
She could lightly trace her ankle bones.
Circling continuously, a soft paint brush
... against her soft skin.
She was a girl the age of sixteen.
With paint stains across her body of bruises.
And blood that pulsed in vivid colors across her body.
She was stuck somewhere.
In-between.
Maybe...
somewhere far.
or somewhere close to home.
Scars buried.
Underneath shirts and scarves she wore around her
long
and fragile neck.
She knew she was growing, but
she refused to consume more than
the amount her mind could bare.
She could've been considered lean, she would bend backwards
for her family and friends.
She loved boys, she loved girls.
All she wanted was to make a difference.
Build a smile.
Shed a tear.
But the only words she repeated
the only ones that her ink would write
over and...
over.
were,
" who am i?"
And in every single moment of time
She wasnt always there
she was never really seen by her friends.
Somewhere she was confused.
The truth was...
This sixteen year old troubled girl
who was covered in an abundant amount of paint...
she was
L.O.S.T.
They whispered.
Her ears burned.
Thoughts tossed about her room.
On the walls.
All over her floor.
The corners of her bed, where the sheets met the ground.
She could lightly trace her ankle bones.
Circling continuously, a soft paint brush
... against her soft skin.
She was a girl the age of sixteen.
With paint stains across her body of bruises.
And blood that pulsed in vivid colors across her body.
She was stuck somewhere.
In-between.
Maybe...
somewhere far.
or somewhere close to home.
Scars buried.
Underneath shirts and scarves she wore around her
long
and fragile neck.
She knew she was growing, but
she refused to consume more than
the amount her mind could bare.
She could've been considered lean, she would bend backwards
for her family and friends.
She loved boys, she loved girls.
All she wanted was to make a difference.
Build a smile.
Shed a tear.
But the only words she repeated
the only ones that her ink would write
over and...
over.
were,
" who am i?"
And in every single moment of time
She wasnt always there
she was never really seen by her friends.
Somewhere she was confused.
The truth was...
This sixteen year old troubled girl
who was covered in an abundant amount of paint...
she was
L.O.S.T.
Literature
mad house
you are a moan that
crawls like a tarantula
down the hall to my room.
papier-mâché girls dance
in the garden, wild women, burning
with their dreams of becoming
skeletons, and through their
parchment skin i can see their
wasted hearts struggling to beat.
a dead boy visits me at night.
i lie rigid in my bed, paralysed
while he stands by my window, white
as the underbelly of a fish,
still dripping with water
from the ocean that stole his life.
and i can still feel their hands
on me,
as cold and rotten as the hands
of a corpse,
the prick in my backside while
they fill me with their venom.
they rape me of my life
a
Literature
Worthless (original poem)
You take me for a fool, a coward in your eyes
Yet take a look through mine, gaze upon what I despise.
A life broken and beaten, used and abused
No worth, no intrinsic value, dazed and confused.
Would you show pity, mercy for this disgrace?
With shame in my eyes, I divert my gaze.
With blood-soaked wrists, I search for a light.
Snuffed out in a flash, leaving me cold in the night.
Should I exist, breathe and love, though it be a lie?
Should I go for the jugular, hoping to see you cry?
Don't mourn for me, you do not deserve
To shed a single tear, and stain God's earth.
My time has come, the hour of doom at hand.
A touching tribute,
Literature
RED
In red marker
Love is scrolled across your wrist
Today you exclaim how you will do anything you can to
Prevent Suicide
Today I stand atop the edge of a chair recalling your words...
Kill yourself
You have nothing to loose
No one will miss you...
I pull my face through the noose, it scrapes my face and passes
Salty tears drench my scratches, replicating the pain I've felt my whole life
With the swift jab of my foot the chair falls
I only feel the tug at my throat for a quick moment, then
nothing.
Just yesterday you carved
Useless
on my soul
Today you wrote love on your arms
Suggested Collections
yaaaaa... so what sixteen feels like right now..
inspired by the piles of drawings and poems i had one night on my floor, and how none of them held any direction of where i was going. or where i was at. have you ever felt like that? its a difficult time, isnt it?
tell me what you think?
inspired by the piles of drawings and poems i had one night on my floor, and how none of them held any direction of where i was going. or where i was at. have you ever felt like that? its a difficult time, isnt it?
tell me what you think?
© 2012 - 2024 littlemissnegativity
Comments11
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I love this one.This poem is so sad and beautiful at the same time.Sad because of how you have so beautifully portrayed the pain this girl is going through,and beautiful because you have shown it in such a beautiful way.Nice work.