All my thoughts got jumbled in my head, when I found out my dad was dead.
I sat in my room for hours and just cried, I couldn’t fight it no matter how hard I tried.
The worst part was the memories, every time I thought of him it would emphasize my miseries.
It creeps up on me when I least expect it, there’s nothing I can do but try and reject it.
That’s how I got to thinking that life is fucked up, even if you’re good, your life gets screwed up.
Im jumping over imaginary hurdles, no matter how fast I go I feel like I’m going slower than a turtle.
I know things will get better although I’d wish he’d come back, but he’s gone for good and he left my heart black.
My sky will be blue again I have hope, for now just get through it and try to cope.
I love him and I always will, and I know the solution isn’t in this pill.
She stands in line at the grocery store, in a sports bra and yoga pants. She had just been at the gym, and only stopped by to grab milk for her mother. She can feel each whisper float to her, sticking to the exposed skin that she wishes she could cover. A group of boys, no older than fifteen, let their gaze crawl hungrily up her body, but never look her in the eyes. She folds her body into her hands as a mother tells her staring children that she would “get what’s coming towards her.” She bites her lips and lets an apology slip from between them as a woman with a purple pixie cut tells her that she’s giving the wrong impression, and needs to protect herself from assault.
But she wasn’t wearing a sports bra and yoga pants when she was raped.
She can hardly stand the scratch of denim against her skin because of the night her favorite jeans were torn from her body, and she can’t really listen to her once-favorite artist because all she remembers is the sterile evidence bag that her concert tee was placed in, and every night the words of her best friend echo in her ears – “really? Just a t-shirt and jeans?”- because she was always taught to ask what the victim was wearing, even though as it turns out, it doesn’t really matter.
So her heart breaks, a little bit, for the girl who is being taught that her clothes define how she is treated by the world.
Her heart breaks, a little bit, for the woman with fantastic hair who believes that although she is entitled to self-expression, she must protect other women from expressing too much.
And her heart breaks, a little bit, for the people who are so offended by the expanse of her skin
that they console themselves by predicting her next rape.
You say that you don’t care what others think? Let’s think about this.
You, who shouts at people to avert their eyes whenever they happen to look upon you.
You, who wears short shorts and skirts for yourself and no one else.
Please, accept the fact that you do care what others think,
That you do dress for others, and that is okay.
People say they want respect, that they want to be valued as an individual, yet they make no effort to try and make you respect them.
You want a job working for a high profile company when you spent hours of your life letting someone draw on your body.
You express your individualism at the sacrifice of your future life.
Kids nowadays, there is an award at every step of life.
There’s no motivation to value what others think of you, only what you think of yourself.
Darwinian selection, it disagrees.
So please, care.
Shattered spun-sugar structures
Empty eyeholes stuffed with fur
Arcs of ribs scatter in the matrix
Bleached-brown spur juts through gray
Glints of yellow embedded in the mess
Scattered paper-thin shards
Vertebral nubs strung with worn cartilage
Wrung-out hide falls away in strings
Whipcrack tail, a rotted rope
I journey to the woods
Near the stroke of midnight
As I walk through darkness
I notice the lack of moonlight
The looming fear of the unknown reaches for my heart
Taunts and dances around my mind like a young child at play
My gut seems to climb faster than any mountain man ever has
The echoing sound of crunching gravel clouds my thoughts
I ask myself
Why do i fear the darkness
It’s not the darkness itself
It’s the fear of the unknown
The fear of what the shadows conceal
It’s what lies unseen
Man’s ultimate rivel
It’s the fear of the unknown
The hinderer of humankind
It reaches out
Taps me gently
Just enough to latch on
Closing in around me
Freezing me in time
As I feel darkness root into me
I stop to turn back on my journey
But from inside me a faint voice strains to say
“Fear is weak”
A mere man can battle it
To combat I go
with strong heart and a steady head
I strike fear
the emotion of cowards
Lays dead in its grave
She takes one look in the mirror and starts to cry,
She wonders why she ate today, she was doing so well,
She hears the whispers and murmurs of people talking about her,
She looks down at the scars on her wrists, legs, and stomach,
Little does she know, that when he looks at her he sees
When he sees her scars, he feels her pain
She is his world
Who are you to me
Who are you to tell me what I can be
You have no right
To control me
Because who you are
Is nothing to me
I don’t care what you think
Or what you can do
Because I will never be afraid of anyone
Not even you
So go ahead
I will be my self
And do what I want
I will live my life
The Goddamn way I want
Ten minutes out
Helmets come one
The silence is strong
Now it’s just me
Alone in my head
Think about my game up ahead
I rethink my moves
Over and over again
Preparing for when my moment to begin
Picturing myself out on the line
Anticipating the whistle
Ready to explode off the side
But then I snap back as
The bus rolls to a stop
Now the real game will began
And I will no doubt win