Poetry competition CLOSED 24th March 2019 12:17pm
WINNER
SatInUGal (Kumar)
SatInUGal (Kumar)
Psychological Abuse
Sick and Twisted
We used to like playing those little games,
But then again my mind’s never been right,
It was a torment we’d never be the same,
I was miserable and blue and all so contrite.
She’d say certain things just to get a reaction,
She’d say half-truths but they sounded like lies,
I didn’t know what to believe it was distraction,
I’d shut down while still looking into her eyes.
There was a twister somewhere inside of me,
A spree of debris that I tried to keep locked,
She kept whispering to get a rise out of me,
Silently brewing deeply whenever she talked.
I wasn’t happy but I didn’t want to admit it,
The love little by little felt more like a fright,
Then I wanted out but I couldn’t just spit it,
It was like her words had the power to smite.
And when it got physical I asked for more,
I wanted my skin to suffer the pain I felt inside,
Harder I’d yell, I didn’t mind bearing the scar,
I wanted to leave but I just couldn’t decide.
It was then when I realized I was just as bad,
I was sad and angry but I knew I had to choose,
It could’ve gotten worse I would’ve gone mad,
I was sick and twisted because I liked the abuse.
We used to like playing those little games,
But then again my mind’s never been right,
It was a torment we’d never be the same,
I was miserable and blue and all so contrite.
She’d say certain things just to get a reaction,
She’d say half-truths but they sounded like lies,
I didn’t know what to believe it was distraction,
I’d shut down while still looking into her eyes.
There was a twister somewhere inside of me,
A spree of debris that I tried to keep locked,
She kept whispering to get a rise out of me,
Silently brewing deeply whenever she talked.
I wasn’t happy but I didn’t want to admit it,
The love little by little felt more like a fright,
Then I wanted out but I couldn’t just spit it,
It was like her words had the power to smite.
And when it got physical I asked for more,
I wanted my skin to suffer the pain I felt inside,
Harder I’d yell, I didn’t mind bearing the scar,
I wanted to leave but I just couldn’t decide.
It was then when I realized I was just as bad,
I was sad and angry but I knew I had to choose,
It could’ve gotten worse I would’ve gone mad,
I was sick and twisted because I liked the abuse.
Psychological Abuse
I write this to you in pain
I write this to you in agony
I write this to you as a cry for help
I write this to you in the hopes for once you might listen.
This abuse is the type that can't be noticed by a black eye or a busted lip
This abuse is something you must listen out for
This abuse is something that you must observe closely... before it's too late.
This abuse could kill someone... but not in the way you would think.
Psychological abuse something that isn't often recognized.
Psychological abuse something that can way you down more than physical
Psychological abuse is something that can make you feel like it's your fault
Psychological abuse is something I have been experiencing for a while now
If you are punched, kicked or hit at least you can prove the marks they have left
If you are told day by day that "you are nothing" "kill yourself" "you can never do anything right" what is there to prove? The marks left on my heart cannot show and that is what kills me.
I am in constant fear of another argument starting that I have no control over... but I seem to be the cause of... for simply just existing.
So kill me then because I've had enough
You slit me with your words but at the end of the day I am the one inflicting harm on myself so tell me.. How could that be their fault?
How could it be their fault when I’m the one taking a blade to my skin and ever so slightly pushing harder with every slit I make... they didn't do anything wrong... right?
So I give up,
I give up on trying to defend myself
I give up on trying to correct the faults and flaws that present themselves in all your arguments
I give up on making myself bleed due to the way you make me feel.
Psychological abuse, I would rather take physical so everyone could see the damage you cause.
But instead they see slits in my arm and think "aw poor thing she must hate herself"
and they're not wrong in saying that, but you defiantly pushed to remind me just how much.
I write this to you in agony
I write this to you as a cry for help
I write this to you in the hopes for once you might listen.
This abuse is the type that can't be noticed by a black eye or a busted lip
This abuse is something you must listen out for
This abuse is something that you must observe closely... before it's too late.
This abuse could kill someone... but not in the way you would think.
Psychological abuse something that isn't often recognized.
Psychological abuse something that can way you down more than physical
Psychological abuse is something that can make you feel like it's your fault
Psychological abuse is something I have been experiencing for a while now
If you are punched, kicked or hit at least you can prove the marks they have left
If you are told day by day that "you are nothing" "kill yourself" "you can never do anything right" what is there to prove? The marks left on my heart cannot show and that is what kills me.
I am in constant fear of another argument starting that I have no control over... but I seem to be the cause of... for simply just existing.
So kill me then because I've had enough
You slit me with your words but at the end of the day I am the one inflicting harm on myself so tell me.. How could that be their fault?
How could it be their fault when I’m the one taking a blade to my skin and ever so slightly pushing harder with every slit I make... they didn't do anything wrong... right?
So I give up,
I give up on trying to defend myself
I give up on trying to correct the faults and flaws that present themselves in all your arguments
I give up on making myself bleed due to the way you make me feel.
Psychological abuse, I would rather take physical so everyone could see the damage you cause.
But instead they see slits in my arm and think "aw poor thing she must hate herself"
and they're not wrong in saying that, but you defiantly pushed to remind me just how much.
Written by Heavens_Hell
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Aftermath
In the aftermath it’s almost impossible to tell,
What was the straw that broke my camels back.
It could have been a major event or a very minor one,
It could have been something catastrophic or just a word in the wrong place,
It could have been a heart break or an insensitive comment.
These factors seldom matter in the aftermath when it is too late
For analysis and soul searching. In the final analysis of the aftermath
Only guilt, tears, sadness and consequences remain in the hearts of those
Who thought they cared and no change in the heart and mind
of those who didn’t care to begin with.
For most life goes on as if nothing ever happened and I was ever there.
Memories remain with the few, photographs with the many,
Photographs are as worthless as memories expose those full of guilt,
Those that could have, those that would have, those that should have.
The aftermath leaves very little trace, just a small blip in a short time line
Where eventually everything is deleted. It is sad that life has come to this
And sadder still when the fight to make things a wee bit better dissipates
And the will to do something about it disappears.
Then there is nothing left to do but put the gun
Under my chin and pull the trigger
Have that in your memories
in the aftermath
the blood splatters
in your memory
not mine
What was the straw that broke my camels back.
It could have been a major event or a very minor one,
It could have been something catastrophic or just a word in the wrong place,
It could have been a heart break or an insensitive comment.
These factors seldom matter in the aftermath when it is too late
For analysis and soul searching. In the final analysis of the aftermath
Only guilt, tears, sadness and consequences remain in the hearts of those
Who thought they cared and no change in the heart and mind
of those who didn’t care to begin with.
For most life goes on as if nothing ever happened and I was ever there.
Memories remain with the few, photographs with the many,
Photographs are as worthless as memories expose those full of guilt,
Those that could have, those that would have, those that should have.
The aftermath leaves very little trace, just a small blip in a short time line
Where eventually everything is deleted. It is sad that life has come to this
And sadder still when the fight to make things a wee bit better dissipates
And the will to do something about it disappears.
Then there is nothing left to do but put the gun
Under my chin and pull the trigger
Have that in your memories
in the aftermath
the blood splatters
in your memory
not mine
Written by David_Macleod
(14397816)
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Squeeze the Sky
I close my eyes,
And squeeze the sky
Swallow the fire,
That mauls my soul
Until the calm ashes dust every crevice of Sorrow & Vengeance
Blindness is my oasis,
Let dreams be unapologetic & drown in Innocence…..
May doubt and Insolence;
Lavish every consequence
I close my eyes,
And squeeze the sky-
Bruised blue, brown study
Blister red plight, pride’s blight
My pied rainbow Solitaire,
Heart’s currency spilling from the Devil’s wallet endlessly….
I weep for the twinkle, tiny little stars
Petal lashes & peach plush cheeks,
And then I giggle with the ghosts
In my faceless dreams that I always seem to see
Praying the boy in me,
Knows how much the girl in the glass loves him so, regardlessly
Of the crimes committed & the sentences been wasted….
The girl in the glass, alas-
Transgresses into a young woman
Of his Reflection, but by her Definition
Awaiting…
For the Manifestation of the Man that she knows him to be,
The boy in me;
And so I close my eyes,
To squeeze the Sky .
And squeeze the sky
Swallow the fire,
That mauls my soul
Until the calm ashes dust every crevice of Sorrow & Vengeance
Blindness is my oasis,
Let dreams be unapologetic & drown in Innocence…..
May doubt and Insolence;
Lavish every consequence
I close my eyes,
And squeeze the sky-
Bruised blue, brown study
Blister red plight, pride’s blight
My pied rainbow Solitaire,
Heart’s currency spilling from the Devil’s wallet endlessly….
I weep for the twinkle, tiny little stars
Petal lashes & peach plush cheeks,
And then I giggle with the ghosts
In my faceless dreams that I always seem to see
Praying the boy in me,
Knows how much the girl in the glass loves him so, regardlessly
Of the crimes committed & the sentences been wasted….
The girl in the glass, alas-
Transgresses into a young woman
Of his Reflection, but by her Definition
Awaiting…
For the Manifestation of the Man that she knows him to be,
The boy in me;
And so I close my eyes,
To squeeze the Sky .
Written by SeaEntity1
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Fearful Love
Spiteful spats split
the heart’s gentle pulse
and shuttered, brittle plans.
For as the heart desiring
sings soft-soaked ballads
the mind, in shame, decries
repeated volleys - jibes
dispatched from a crooked mouth
twisted in a sneer
while the tender heart cowers,
encircled by heated fear.
Brewing from this tension
seeping through piercing radar,
eyes meet and hands, tentative
to a delicate finger tip - touch.
the heart’s gentle pulse
and shuttered, brittle plans.
For as the heart desiring
sings soft-soaked ballads
the mind, in shame, decries
repeated volleys - jibes
dispatched from a crooked mouth
twisted in a sneer
while the tender heart cowers,
encircled by heated fear.
Brewing from this tension
seeping through piercing radar,
eyes meet and hands, tentative
to a delicate finger tip - touch.
Written by SeaCat
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Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
It was during that night, after dinner,
And tight on bottles of wine, your words
Hung sublime like crystalline birds.
And I, dazed from the sound as they passed,
Could only look at you through my glass
Held up to my gaze, and filled with wine.
And saw, with the passing of time, how the
Candle's light imbued everything in a red hue
As I stared at you, intoxicated.
Till through my fingers, slipped, its descent
Lingered, the beat of my heart, halting,
Shattered its perfection across the floor,
Just as my heart tore and came apart in a
Flood of wine: red as blood, painful to see.
As if my eyes had burst, but which would I
Notice first: the innocuous stench of sick,
Or the shards of glass' trick of the light.
Still, I bleed in your presence, my tears
Are bleeding; don't staunch the flow.
You've tipped the waiter, now
I beg you, please, just go.
This was my first poem, about my first heartbreak/ breakup.
