i was a child
everything i was, was something you hated
but you always said you loved me
i wish you’d said you hated me
because that would be easier
than believing you cared
everything you did to me still defines me
all of the pain and the misery
you were the only one i could have trusted
and you used that against me
i was a child
i didn’t deserve that
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I know you didn’t mean to not notice the abuse.
You say it almost every time we talk,
“If only you had told me.”
That would’ve helped,
But a little girl isn’t supposed to be so good at hiding her wounds.
If only you had noticed.
I know you didn’t mean to,
But why is it my fault
For “hiding things so well.”
Dear god,
I didn’t even know what I was doing.
I don’t want to be angry,
I know you didn’t mean to,
But mom,
It is not my fault
For being a scared little girl,
With no one she can trust.
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"i'll never love you, but i'll love your ghost" is the only good thing i have ever written.
[ID: White text on a black background. Line breaks are signified by / symbol. The text reads:
i'll never miss you, never miss your smile / the one that hid all of your vile / petty excuses for what you do / it's just a joke dear, don't feel so blue
i'll never love you, but i'll love your ghost / the caring father i needed the most / the one that never, ever existed / i used to wish, used to wish you were dead
/End ID]
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It’s a filth that never goes away.
No matter how hard I scrub, how hot the water.
I could skin myself and it would stay,
A thick grime clinging even to my revealed muscle tissue.
I could carve and carve, burn and burn.
Nothing will ever rid me of it.
That impure feeling that corrupts my very soul–
Evidence of a defilement for only your sweet little pleasure.
The stench of rotten grain and discounted rejection reeks from my body.
I can’t help but wonder if others can smell it too.
Do they see the filth stuck to my body like I do?
Do they see the shame in my eyes?
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in my worst moments, someone is always telling me of the countless people who love me. and i never have the words to explain why this brings me no comfort. i don't know how to tell them that the more somebody cares for me, the less i trust them. in my world, anyone who loves you can devastate you in a moment. anyone who promises to be there for you will leave the kind of wounds that never quite heal. how can i trust anyone who loves me? in my world, i think it is better to be hated than to be loved. at least then i'll know to expect the damage they give. at least then i won't be surprised when i am devastated once again by someone who claimed to only want the best for me.
trauma poem #136298 - judas h.
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I AM ALWAYS SCREAMING MY CONFESSIONS
AND I KNOW I AM SO BITTER AND TOXIC
YOU WOULD SPIT ME OUT IF YOU KNEW HOW I TASTED
BUT YOU FUCKING TORTURED ME FOR 17 YEARS
SEVENTEEN LONG YEARS
SO IF I CRY ACID
AND SPIT FIRE
AND BURN DOWN ALL MY RELATIONSHIPS
IT IS BECAUSE I AM BITTER
I AM A SELFISH CONTROL FREAK
ALWAYS SCREAMING
ALWAYS CRYING
"I DIDN'T DESERVE WHAT HAPPENED TO ME"
BUT MAYBE I DID
MAYBE NOTHING WILL EVER HAUNT YOU
THE WAY MY PAIN HAUNTS ME
SO IF ONE THING IS GONNA HAUNT YOU
IT'S GOING TO FUCKING BE ME
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i still hope
i still hope that i never wake up
i still hope i never have to remember
i still hope i never hear your voice
i still hope i never see your face
i still hope it can all finally end
i still hope i can finally rest
you made a monster out of me
you didnt make me strong
you made me afraid
but your only hope is still have me
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hey mom,
do you still remember me,
all the way up there in
heavenhellpurgatorywhereveryouare,
or maybe that's not how
memory works when you're
dead.
hey mom,
it feels like everything is wrong now,
everything is different, it's not right, it's -
it's complicated, i guess.
it's impossible to talk to dad,
it's impossible to talk to his now ex-wife,
it's impossible to talk,
it's impossible to,
it's impossible.
hey mom,
your daughter tells me i look exactly like you.
it makes her cry.
i wish i could tell her how
guilty it makes me.
hey mom,
i told dad i didn't need a therapist,
(i've already been thorough two,
he tells me it's not working because i'm not
receptive to it. or something.
another problem, i guess.),
but i lied and i think he knows.
hey mom,
i'm fucking drowning.
hey mom,
i found something i really love and even though
it feels like i'm ripping out my insides/
and bent-over-at-the-knees hurling,
even though i've sewn my mouth shut
at the expense of everyone else,
i really do love doing it.
i think i might go to college for it.
i wrote a poem about you,
i'm not sure you would've liked it,
though.
hey mom,
i realized the other day
you won't be there when i graduate.
hey mom,
i got a girlfriend.
you always took us to church and
we weren't raised religious, but
you believed and i think sis does too now,
or maybe she just uses it as an excuse
to get closer to
you.
i don't know what you thought of gay people,
but i like to pretend you would've liked her,
even though i'm pretty sure,
at this point,
you wouldn't be able to form a coherent sentence.
hey mom,
do you think
if i killed myself
I'd see you in heaven?
or do you think
the stories are true,
and I'd go straight to hell?
hey mom,
i got a girlfriend.
and we have a dog and two cats.
and dad has a girlfriend who's a little too young,
but we both know she's not gold-digging,
and it's obvious they really love each other.
hey mom,
it took me five years of fighting,
and not crying,
and seeing everyone mourn,
and hating you,
and resenting you,
and missing not you,
but what could've been,
and breaking down silently
while everyone was asleep,
and hurting myself,
and -
none of this will change, but i think -
it took me five years, but i think
i forgive you.
mostly.
hey mom,
would you be proud?
| k. - @nosebleedclub xxi. questions to ask your mother (DRAFT)
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