WRITING
Poetry
WARNING: A lot of my poetry is vent poetry. They deal with subjects like: physical & emotional child abuse, ableism, revenge done by violence, and other violent, gorey imagery. Please be safe when going through this page.
Also, these will be bad. They're cringey and edgy and obviously written by a teenager who has never written poetry before. I don't even think half of these count as poetry, they're just a story formatted weirdly. I used to have a lot of more poetry, but I deleted all of it in a fit of embarrassment (or am not sharing them currently, because they are embarrassing). I know they're bad.
But all of these were written during times where I was struggling, mentally, emotionally, and physically. Times where I was terrified for my family, my future, and my safety.
I don't want to feel embarrassed by something that helped me express myself when I didn't have any other way.
I am sharing these to get over that embarrassment, but dear god, these are so awful.
6/21/23
Green invades me
It swings in the wind,
And sits in the trees.
It curls beneath the rock and the dirt.
It sits in my living room.
It follows into my kitchen.
It uses my bathrooms.
It creaks up and down the steps.
Turning the handle to my bedroom,
The door squeaks open,
And it slinks in.
Creeping into every corner of my room,
Crawling and seeping into the crevices in my floorboards,
Sitting in my closet and at the edge of my bed.
It slams my doors,
Shakes my walls,
And shrieks into 2 AM.
Into 3 AM,
5 AM,
Into 8 AM.
It sits behind my eyes,
in corners of my mind.
I stare at the mirror in my room.
At the mangled, distored mess.
Green invades me.
6/21/23
A pencil on the floor of a classroom
& a coin on the sidewalk.
Pieces of scrap paper,
Or the last drop of ink in a pen.
Crawling
& clinging
& drawgging
& digging
& wilting
Crumbling at touch,
Weeping into the dirt,
I am the loser
in a race.
6/5/23
Chained to my house my room my bed my family my siblings my life my body my soul
I'm crying.
Trapped, struggling, writhing, squirming, crying
Wishing, dreaming, hoping, praying,
crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, crying,
6/4/23
I'll
Jump off
a bridge,
a roof,
Out
a window.
Crush my bones
Tear my skin
Crumble
like a sheet of paper
Bleed onto the pavement
into the grass
& into your hands.
6/4/23
A lamp.
A dresser.
A blue wall.
A room.
(I wrote this for my final project in my Mythology class)
5/14/23
asked for something sweet / & got me / i will lend you everything / until no more / push / push / pushing / forcefully / you destroy me / wanting more / gredily / stingy / selfish / you ask / you demand / you take / i will surround myself in spikes & thorns / i'll grow into a weapon / watch you as you slice your skin / covered in welts / you will learn / you will learn to never hurt me again
(This is part of a bigger poem I dislike. I don't actually know when I wrote this, but I suspect around early 2022, due to the age mentioned (16).
early 2022?
My little sister is 2. Almost 3. She growls when she is upset.
She scrunches up her face and stomps her foot.
She places her fits on her hips,
she hits you.
I wonder where she learned it from.
Did she learn it at all?
I am 16. Almost 17.
I wonder if I will learn it too.
Maybe I already have.
2/11/22
I wish
I could've seen
Your lifeless body,
Laying dead at the foot
Of my
Stairs.
