I met her again, crying. Reunited with an old friend, a
mourner of the corner of my shower. The little vermin crying her life out, for
what? I don’t know. But I’ve met her so many times before.
I know her… so why was it so easy to judge her, again?
To scorn at her for feeling the way she did.
For hating her, just because she felt.
I know her… so why was it so easy to judge her, again?
To scorn at her for feeling the way she did.
For hating her, just because she felt.
Was she overreacting like she always did?
Just feeling sorry for herself again, I guess.
That’s what she does best.
Just feeling sorry for herself again, I guess.
That’s what she does best.
Her frame, thing and naked…she is everything I don’t want
to be.
Folds of her stomach.
Folds of her stomach.
Marks of her thighs and
legs.
The marks on her chest
The scars…
Self-inflicted
on her stomach
her chest
The fresh, swollen wound engrave by new, but brittle nails. Right wrist,
carved into a flawless crescent moon.
her chest
The fresh, swollen wound engrave by new, but brittle nails. Right wrist,
carved into a flawless crescent moon.
Seeing her shudder… Oh
the pleasure it brought.
She was gasping for air
gasping for the help that will never come
gasping for the help that will never come
She will always be in
pain
always in this pain of herself
always in this pain of herself
She’ll always hate
herself…
She sprawls out,
genuinely crying, yet again. Hot tears down her cheeks…
And stops
just stops
just stops
And stares
The tiles.
The water.
herself
she’s ugly
The water.
herself
she’s ugly
Blackened knees
Stretch marks
Darkened areas of skin where she’s terrified of anyone venturing.
But at the same time, she yearns to be touched.
Stretch marks
Darkened areas of skin where she’s terrified of anyone venturing.
But at the same time, she yearns to be touched.
Folds
four of them
concealing the scars
old and just there
four of them
concealing the scars
old and just there
For her pleasure of
remembrance of
…remembrance of what?
her agony?
her agony?
The agony she doesn’t suffer?
She continues to stare.
The valley between her small breasts…
dotted with black, red, and white marks.
A curse of the genes.
And long, clumsy fingers trace over the raised birthmark.
A smile plays on her lips… she digs her nail in, but knows she’s too pathetic to hurt herself.
The valley between her small breasts…
dotted with black, red, and white marks.
A curse of the genes.
And long, clumsy fingers trace over the raised birthmark.
A smile plays on her lips… she digs her nail in, but knows she’s too pathetic to hurt herself.
Why hurt herself?
It really does nothing to anyone.
Even if all she wants is attention.
It really does nothing to anyone.
Even if all she wants is attention.
Her collarbones don’t
protrude and for that, she claws at the skin, hatred just fueling her actions
just so intensely that the redness floats to the surface ever so effortlessly.
She cries again
She decides it’s time to stop.
steps out of the shower
sniffles
cracks her back
she looks straight through me.
She’s hollow.
I’m hollow, empty
She decides it’s time to stop.
steps out of the shower
sniffles
cracks her back
she looks straight through me.
She’s hollow.
I’m hollow, empty
And just
consumed with
darkness
loneliness
darkness
loneliness
It screams at us and we
want to break down again.
She wants to
smash me
smash the mirror
smash the mirror
The
barrier between us
She does her routine
Brush
Moisturize
…And leave
Dried and
broken.
I follow somewhere close behind in the recesses of her
mind.
wow. and well done.
ReplyDeletethis is where i should say something intelligent but, let's just say that this morning found me at "the place" and reading this somehow reminds me of a girl i knew, a girl i know, a girl i love/d and the boy who sees himself as... villain.
all i can say is wow. i completely feel this.
thank you. personal comments beat intelligence anyday ;)
Deletethis is one of the most interesting poems i have ever read. By reading the title alone, there is a sense of trials, of tribulations, of hidden meaning and it makes you want to delve into the poem. However, upon entering, there is a very intricate layout of words, sentences, and stanzas which shows a form of chaos, of "unknowing-ness" meaning simply: knowing not of what life holds. it is structured in a very 'prosaiz' style of poetry which, for me, is a contradiction to a very strongly held, structured illustration of courtroom, which emphasizes chaos in this woman's life as order has lost his place.
ReplyDeleteAs testing and lengthy as this poem is, so too are the meanings held within it. Altogether, a very, as stated previously, interesting and enthralling poem. You possess great talent as seen clearly by your series of poems and i think that you should heavily consider making them known to the public because raw and pure talent, such as yours, is not meant to be kept in the dark.
Once again, an excellent poem that many would be able to relate to