Poems About Abuse Seeking Honest Critique
#abuse
Vision_of_insanity
Poem Published
5th Mar 2025 1:04am
5th Mar 2025 1:04am
The Caboose
She was on her way to the quickie mart
Picking up grape soda and some pop tarts
Would you believe she has no money
Figures, she works for a pimp named Sunny
She takes her earnings and blows it all away
Another Friday night, time to get laid
Two weeks later, Sunny is getting fed up
Time is money, she's taking a piss in a cup
Sick and tired of all the abuse
Her ass is referred to as "The Caboose"
How will she know when the time is right
Keep her in the dark, she's a fugly sight
Hopping on the train, leaving far...
Picking up grape soda and some pop tarts
Would you believe she has no money
Figures, she works for a pimp named Sunny
She takes her earnings and blows it all away
Another Friday night, time to get laid
Two weeks later, Sunny is getting fed up
Time is money, she's taking a piss in a cup
Sick and tired of all the abuse
Her ass is referred to as "The Caboose"
How will she know when the time is right
Keep her in the dark, she's a fugly sight
Hopping on the train, leaving far...
#abuse
#rhyming
#SelfDiscovery
#sex
#ShortStory
106 reads
13 Comments
Casted_Runes
Mr Karswell
Mr Karswell
Poem Published
27th Feb 2025 8:47am
27th Feb 2025 8:47am
fleeting romance
after Joe Bolton
we danced once back in ‘94
before the long waste of my life
you taking pity on me (I felt)
an abstruse friendless teenage boy
we waltzed across the Hounslow road
and out into the lights
and maybe you were trying to forget
what made those bruises on your arms
or trying to stall returning home
to parents you no longer loved
but in any case it is
my one warm thought of childhood
the two of us dancing
as fleeting as it was…
I don’t believe in afterlives
and lonely still...
we danced once back in ‘94
before the long waste of my life
you taking pity on me (I felt)
an abstruse friendless teenage boy
we waltzed across the Hounslow road
and out into the lights
and maybe you were trying to forget
what made those bruises on your arms
or trying to stall returning home
to parents you no longer loved
but in any case it is
my one warm thought of childhood
the two of us dancing
as fleeting as it was…
I don’t believe in afterlives
and lonely still...
#abuse
#despair
#love #memories
#love #memories
105 reads
8 Comments
3Y3S-THVT-S33
Electra
Electra
Poem Published
24th Feb 2025 5:59pm
24th Feb 2025 5:59pm
I run from gentle hands. II
I run from gentle hands
They pry you open
Examine every secret locked in your bones
They claim it's love, but you feel utterly exposed
I run from gentle hands
They say you'll only feel a pinch
As they slip, and your mouth is stitched
Gentle hands grip me harder than
Hard course hands I find sharp knives in
Gentle hands bind you, claiming you're too wild
These same gentle hands crucified the perfect child
I run from gentle hands
Because gentle hands don't gently understand
They pry you open
Examine every secret locked in your bones
They claim it's love, but you feel utterly exposed
I run from gentle hands
They say you'll only feel a pinch
As they slip, and your mouth is stitched
Gentle hands grip me harder than
Hard course hands I find sharp knives in
Gentle hands bind you, claiming you're too wild
These same gentle hands crucified the perfect child
I run from gentle hands
Because gentle hands don't gently understand
#abuse
#despair
#escape
#lies
#misunderstood
104 reads
1 Comment
BaldyBrown
Poem Published
20th Feb 2025 1:48pm
20th Feb 2025 1:48pm
Advent of the Question Mark
Is it not written that everybody is a god?” (St. John 10:34)
You enter the sacred place with feces on your shoes
and flop your fat ass down like some myopic pig
You hold the question mark in your hand, like a scepter
It is your word-smithing weapon of choice
You don’t want to be God, but to be like God
You want the privilege without the responsibility
You feign humility and inflict with your scepter
not looking for answers but subjugation
God has no need of a question mark
nor a scepter, nor obedient subjects ...
You enter the sacred place with feces on your shoes
and flop your fat ass down like some myopic pig
You hold the question mark in your hand, like a scepter
It is your word-smithing weapon of choice
You don’t want to be God, but to be like God
You want the privilege without the responsibility
You feign humility and inflict with your scepter
not looking for answers but subjugation
God has no need of a question mark
nor a scepter, nor obedient subjects ...
#abuse
#dark
#manipulation
81 reads
0 Comments
xinaskirt
Poem Published
19th Feb 2025 10:30pm
19th Feb 2025 10:30pm
Torn apart, full moon...Part 1
#abuse
#conflict
#lust
#passion
#moon
239 reads
15 Comments
Vision_of_insanity
Poem Published
18th Feb 2025 11:54am
18th Feb 2025 11:54am
The Violence Continues
She had enough. Many times her father would could home staggering drunk, and force himself onto her. He didn't care. He had no regret when he would sober up. Her mother knew that if she ever said a word she'd be beaten & thrown out into the streets. She cared about her own hide and not her own flesh & blood. She came into this marriage with nothing and will leave the marriage with nothing.
Her daughter is now dependent on drugs. Any drugs to release her from this horror. Pills, heroin, meth, alcohol, anything to get her fucked up and to drown these memories.
...
Her daughter is now dependent on drugs. Any drugs to release her from this horror. Pills, heroin, meth, alcohol, anything to get her fucked up and to drown these memories.
...
#abuse
#anger
#family
#prison
#ShortStory
108 reads
8 Comments
Onyxceila
Poem Published
16th Feb 2025 10:49am
16th Feb 2025 10:49am
Lignified Soul
You found me nearly hollowed out.
A bag of bones upon the ground
My soul retreats into my pith
But not before you catch a glimpse
My soul hides within my core
For the light it had, it has no more
Your fingers and eyes begin to comb
Through the mess of flesh
Incaged in bone
You looked me over and sat me up
Then opened up my cranium
Dumped out the mush you found inside
repaired my breaks with linen binds
Then laughed as love
Welled within my eyes
There was no doubt, you were sure
You had siphoned...
A bag of bones upon the ground
My soul retreats into my pith
But not before you catch a glimpse
My soul hides within my core
For the light it had, it has no more
Your fingers and eyes begin to comb
Through the mess of flesh
Incaged in bone
You looked me over and sat me up
Then opened up my cranium
Dumped out the mush you found inside
repaired my breaks with linen binds
Then laughed as love
Welled within my eyes
There was no doubt, you were sure
You had siphoned...
#abuse
#emptiness
#identity #manipulation
#identity #manipulation
85 reads
2 Comments
KristinaX
Poem Published
14th Feb 2025 10:00pm
14th Feb 2025 10:00pm
Like I Was Never Touched
There are things I don’t say.
Things I press down so deep,
they never had a voice—
only suffering,
only pain.
My body was never mine, not really.
Hands took it before I even knew how to feel.
Before I could understand the perversion,
before I understood the way a soul can fracture
and still keep moving.
I have been taken so many times,
I stopped believing there was anything left to keep.
I have been seen, but never known.
Touched, but never held.
Wanted so...
Things I press down so deep,
they never had a voice—
only suffering,
only pain.
My body was never mine, not really.
Hands took it before I even knew how to feel.
Before I could understand the perversion,
before I understood the way a soul can fracture
and still keep moving.
I have been taken so many times,
I stopped believing there was anything left to keep.
I have been seen, but never known.
Touched, but never held.
Wanted so...
#abuse
#love
#romantic
#suffering
#childhood
638 reads
75 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
5th Feb 2025 12:44pm
5th Feb 2025 12:44pm
The misadventures of a lone ranger
A lost man wakes alone,
a relentless mighty knight fighting old soldiers
underneath the broken bridge
of Landscape.
He never thought they could hurt him.
He never foresaw the gang bang coming.
All those men were taking advantage of his body.
Many swords of attack penetrate his back.
He's been able to take them so many times
that I felt the urge to rhyme on it
like my pen is on fire.
#abuse
#humankind
#violence
115 reads
4 Comments
Vision_of_insanity
Poem Published
3rd Feb 2025 7:44pm
3rd Feb 2025 7:44pm
The Misadventures Underneath the Bridge
A young man walks alone
Shirtless on a hot, muggy night
He's attacked by an older man underneath the Williamsburg Bridge
He thought the guy was going to kill him
Instead he was raped
He can't tell anyone
It's a secret between you, me & him
Don't tell anybody, okay?
He don't need to be stabbed in the rear anymore
He's been fucked dry enough times for me to write a poem about it!
Shirtless on a hot, muggy night
He's attacked by an older man underneath the Williamsburg Bridge
He thought the guy was going to kill him
Instead he was raped
He can't tell anyone
It's a secret between you, me & him
Don't tell anybody, okay?
He don't need to be stabbed in the rear anymore
He's been fucked dry enough times for me to write a poem about it!
#abuse
#city
#satirical
#sex
#violence
108 reads
4 Comments
Vision_of_insanity
Poem Published
2nd Feb 2025 12:08pm
2nd Feb 2025 12:08pm
Before it's too late
#abuse
#betrayal
#DomesticViolence
#lies
#relationships
100 reads
14 Comments
MidnightSonneteer
Poem Published
29th Jan 2025 8:45pm
29th Jan 2025 8:45pm
Uncle Scam
All he did was make lots of threats
and still he got the votes
from white folks with bajillion frets
stoked by kazillion gloats.
They were the smash mouth runagates
who mostly had it good,
except for all their mental states;
as brittle as dead wood...
where moral muscle had been found,
perhaps when they were six,
but now their morals are unsound
all due to MAGA tricks.
The kind that turns a decent kid
into a raging troll,
like the kind who flips his lid...
when Bishops show some soul.
and still he got the votes
from white folks with bajillion frets
stoked by kazillion gloats.
They were the smash mouth runagates
who mostly had it good,
except for all their mental states;
as brittle as dead wood...
where moral muscle had been found,
perhaps when they were six,
but now their morals are unsound
all due to MAGA tricks.
The kind that turns a decent kid
into a raging troll,
like the kind who flips his lid...
when Bishops show some soul.
#abuse
#HumanRights
#politics
#PopCulture
#responsibility
219 reads
9 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Abuse Seeking Honest Critique
