Tag Archives: Poetry

Boys Will be Boys

Boys think it’s all about them.

Boys are allowed to do anything.

Boys can do anything they want.

Gils are supposed to shut up.

Girls have to take what’s given.

Girls do not have any say.

Boys think girls dress for them.

Boys think girls are their belongings.

Boys think girls have to listen.

Girls can’t think that it’s wrong.

Girls can’t think he’s not allowed.

Girls can’t think, speak, or move.

Boys are allowed to bug girls.

Boys are allowed to hit girls.

Boys are allowed to touch girls.

Girls are not allowed to protest.

Girls are not allowed to reject.

Girls are not allowed to feel.

Boys can do what they want.

Boys can do anything they want.

Boys can think what they want.

Girls can’t do what they want.

Girls can’t do what boys can.

Girls can’t do anything about it.

Boys are stronger, better, and smarter.

Boys are encouraged, accepted, and extraordinary.

Boys are curious, adventurous, and idealistic.

Girls are weak, unopinionated, and stupid.

Girls are silent, unable, and pathetic.

Girls are ignorant, disrespectful, and unfit.

Boys are allowed to be boys.

Boys are allowed to say anything.

Boys are allowed to speak up.

Girls aren’t allowed to be girls.

Girls aren’t allowed to say anything.

Girls aren’t allowed to speak up.

Boys don’t worry about any consequences.

Boys don’t worry about girls speaking.

Boys don’t worry about significant abuse.

Girls worry about not being believed.

Girls worry about being shut upped.

Girls worry about being rapped, abused.

Parents make excuses for their boys.

Teachers defend the boys in school.

Authorities believe the boys with anything.

Parents discourage their girl’s outspoken words.

Teachers give girls punishments with everything.

Authorities don’t believe in the girls.

Fat

She can’t look in her mirror,

She can’t look at herself anymore.

She can’t look at her body,

She can’t look at her face.

She hates when her legs touch.

She hates when her stomach shows.

She hates when her arms move.

She hates when her butt’s bulging.

Her legs touch, shake while walking.

Her legs are dry and bleak.

Her legs are wide and thickset.

Her legs are stocky and stubby.

Her stomach is potbellied and husky.

Her stomach is jiggly and wiggly.

Her stomach is bulging and plumply.

Her stomach is oversized and swollen.

Her arms are roly-poly and blabby.

Her arms are fleshy and chunky.

Her arms are flabby and overabundance.

Her arms are blubber and beefy.

Her butt is lumpy and bumpy.

Her butt is irregular and uneven.

Her butt is stout and blucky.

Her butt is pudgy and hefty.

She grabs fat on inner thighs.

She pulls handfuls of her stomach.

She pinches her under arm flubber.

She squeezes her butt to smaller.

She stretches for smaller inner thighs.

She drinks tea for smaller stomach.

She exercises for smaller, thinner arms.

She walks for smaller, rounder butt.

Suicide

March 27th, 2014. Teenage suicide attempt.

She swallowed 82 Ibuprofen with water.

Along with phenazopyridine, an old subscription.

With the pain she was experiencing

It seemed to call for medication.

Medication will hopefully numb the pain.

It is her final, last resort.

Slowly feeling her stomach start disintegrating.

As her stomach lining started thinning

She was waiting for the end.

Getting dizzy unable to walk properly.

Walking around almost as if drunk.

Her mind unable to focus straight.

She was unable to wait anymore.

She finally told him about everything.

He brought her to get help.

They called an ambulance for her.

They asked questions she couldn’t answer.

She was close to falling asleep.

Fighting the darkness and the unconsciousness.

Laying on a gurney leaving school.

On her way to the hospital.

The paramedic looking for her veins.

Unable to find them do to

Ibuprofen thins blood making it difficult.

Paramedic kept missing the thin veins.

Finally was able to find one.

Laying on the gurney inside waiting.

Falling in and out of unconsciousness.

Waiting for the doctor and nurse.

Her lips becoming blue and purple.

But her body overheating within seconds.

Sweating through clothing and gurney sheets.

Her hearing slowly started to disappear.

She was unable to hear anyone

She couldn’t even hear herself speak.

Family

What if her family ever knew?

What would they do with her?

What would they say to her?

The deep lines on her thigh

The deep burns in her arm

The bones showing under her clothes

She has to be careful always

She has to always watch herself

She has to think everything through

Getting caught could ruin every thing

Getting found could spoil her world

Getting fix could hurt her soul

Without it she has nothing left

Without it she can’t breath easy

Without it she don’t know anything

With it she can do anything

With it she’s everything she wants

With it she has the world

Skinny

How many pounds? How many inches?

How many calories? How many fats?

How many candies? How many veggies?

How many?.. How many?.. How many..?

 

The questions go through her head.

In the morning, afternoon, and night.

She’s always thinking about not eating.

If she eats, that’s another calorie.

 

That’s another gram of body fat.

Another outfit she can’t fit into.

Another outfit she has destroyed again.

That’s another number on the scale.

 

Her notebook is filled with thinspirations.

Skinny girls, skinny foods, skinny tips.

Notes about getting small and skinny.

 

Learning how to eat or not.

What to eat to burn calories.

What to do instead of eating.

What to do to burn calories.

 

Things to do instead of eating.

Drawing, writing, painting, reading, or coloring.

Napping, bathing, doing hair, painting nails.

Walking, running, doing yoga, or fitness.

Not eating is easier than tracking.

Tracking is hard, tiring, and consuming.

Not eating is easier than fitness.

Tracking is hard, boring, and draining.

 

If she gets through a day,

One, single, empty day without eating,

It’s considered a good successful day.

 

To be skinny she has to

Skip a meal, avoid all foods.

To be skinny she has to

Do something other than eating foods.

 

To be skinny she has to

Drink zero calorie, zero sugar tea.

To be skinny she has to

Pretend to not be starving inside.

 

To be skinny means she’s pretty.

To be skinny means she’s confident.

To be skinny means she’s strong.

To be skinny means she’s brave.

 

How many pounds until she’s perfect?

How many calories does to burn?

How many more candies to avoid?

How many?.. How many?.. How many?..

Broken Glass

Middle​ ​school​ ​girl​ ​with​ ​broken​ ​glass.

Glass​ ​she​ ​found​ ​behind​ ​her​ ​school,

Along​ ​the​ ​ground​ ​mixed​ ​in​ ​rocks.

Unclean,​ ​broken,​ ​shards​ ​of​ ​glass.

Raggedy,​ ​broken,​ ​torn​ ​fresh​ ​skin.

She​ ​didn’t​ ​know​ ​what​ ​she’s​ ​doing.

Willingly​ ​following​ ​a​ ​friend’s​ ​steps​ ​forward,

Forward​ ​into​ ​a​ ​deep​ ​dark​ ​hole.

A​ ​hole​ ​with​ ​scars​ ​and​ ​cuts.

Blade​ ​of​ ​a​ ​new​ ​pencil​ ​sharpener.

Blunt​ ​end​ ​of​ ​a​ ​pocket​ ​knife.

Broken​ ​glass​ ​found​ ​on​ ​the​ ​street.

Deep,​ ​shallow.​ ​Thick,​ ​thin.​ ​Scars,​ ​cut.

She​ ​was​ ​scared​ ​at​ ​first​ ​cut.

But​ ​she​ ​soon​ ​realized​ ​it​ ​helped,

She​ ​was​ ​able​ ​to​ ​numb​ ​pain.

She​ ​numbed​ ​the​ ​emotional​ ​daily​ ​pain.

The​ ​lies​ ​her​ ​brain​ ​would​ ​tell.

The​ ​stories​ ​her​ ​thoughts​ ​would​ ​create.

The​ ​whispers​ ​her​ ​ears​ ​would​ ​hear.

The​ ​other’s​ ​thoughts​ ​she’d​ ​listen​ ​to.

She​ ​was​ ​able​ ​to​ ​numb​ ​pain.

Easy​ ​to​ ​numb​ ​emotional​ ​pain,​ ​also,

Easy​ ​to​ ​numb​ ​the​ ​mental​ ​pain.

She​ ​numbed​ ​the​ ​mental​ ​daily​ ​pain.

The​ ​thoughts​ ​her​ ​mind​ ​would​ ​explore.

The​ ​images​ ​her​ ​imagination​ ​would​ ​create.

The​ ​dreams​ ​her​ ​sleep​ ​would​ ​show.

The​ ​ideas​ ​her​ ​brain​ ​would​ ​brainstorm.

Her​ ​small​ ​shards​ ​of​ ​broken​ ​glass,

Her​ ​sharp​ ​blade​ ​of​ ​pencil​ ​sharpeners,

Her​ ​dull​ ​blade​ ​of​ ​pocket​ ​knife.

To​ ​quiet​ ​her​ ​brain,​ ​thoughts,​ ​ears,

Her​ ​mind,​ ​imagination,​ ​and​ ​sleep.

She’d​ ​guide​ ​the​ ​blade,​ ​glass,​ ​knife

Across​ ​her​ ​arm​ ​and​ ​push​ ​down.

Looking​ ​for​ ​broken​ ​skin​ ​and​ ​blood.

The​ ​cuts​ ​hurt​ ​her​ ​at​ ​first,

But​ ​then​ ​became​ ​a​ ​tickle​ ​sensation.

Then​ ​became​ ​a​ ​numb​ ​gliding​ ​feeling.

Middle​ ​school​ ​girl​ ​became​ ​broken​ ​glass.

Glass​ ​she​ ​became​ ​behind​ ​her​ ​school,

Along​ ​the​ ​ground​ ​mixed​ ​in​ ​blood.

Unclean,​ ​broken​ ​shards​ ​of​ ​glass.

Raggedy,​ ​broken,​ ​torn​ ​fresh​ ​skin.

 

The Weight

She sat outside in the dark.

Alone, with just her calming cigarettes.

And her music, listening to songs.

Songs that belonged to a playlist,

Called scars, a playlist she hears.

When she’s sad, depressed, and alone.

She stares up at the stars.

Stars that are her only light.

The ones that only care, listens.

Millions upon millions in the twilight.

But she still feels more alone.

The fresh cigarette smoke helps calm.

They’re her fresh air from sadness.

The sadness is heavy like rocks.

Rocks on her small, weak shoulders.

She doesn’t know what to do.

How to relieve the unbearable pain.

She wants to sit up straight,

But the weight is too much.

Her shoulders are sore, she’s sore.

The pain can’t be released alone.

But nobody is willing to help.

The weight’s too much for everyone.

She’s left alone to bear it,

Carrying throughout the days and nights.

The cigarette smoke helps her breath,

Underneath all the rock’s hard weight.

She doesn’t know how much longer,

How much more she can take.

She’s getting tired, worn out, weak.

Doesn’t know how to get out,

Out from underneath all the weight.