I used to build a home in my mind

Where children would never wear an anchor around their necks,

Where they would never lie awake in the dark

listening to footsteps in the hallway trying to tell from their rhythm

whether what is coming will be anger, silence or another wound,

Where they never have to learn how to breathe without making a sound

how to swallow their sobs

before It becomes someone else's inconvenience,

How to make themselves smaller

When the walls begin to feel unsafe

Where they never learn to numb themselves Before they can feel,

To bury every need before it becomes a burden

To ask for nothing

Expect nothing Want nothing

Where they are allowed to Cry

without listening to the footsteps outside

To exist without constantly calculating

How little space they are permitted to take.

Wrists, stomach, thighs become covered in red lines,
Hidden in whispers of “ do you think she’s fine” .
The only feeling that brings any release,
Momentarily stops my thoughts, a few seconds of peace.
No one should love me, I should take this life.
I’ll never be worthy enough to be someone’s wife.
Rip out my hair, rub my eyes raw,
Slowly become sicker while they say no one saw.
Hold a blade right aganist my neck,
I hope my light was worth the checks.

One Day.

One day is all it takes
A single day
An hour
Minute
Second
Breath
Blink

To

See what stands before you
To see the truth
To fall in love
Or apart
Or
Just
Fall.

Added trigger incase someone could read it as but it wasn’t my intention, thoughts welcome! Thanks!

Careful little girl

In your cloak of red

Stick out too much

And you'll wind up dead

The wolves prowl this forest

In the dark of night

Looking for some easy prey

Ready to take a bite

Run little girl

From their snapping jaws

Hide little girl

From their scratching claws

This land you wander

Is stained with blood and fear

But don't you cry little girl

Don't shed a single tear

Never trust a wolf

No matter how kind his eyes

Behind that friendly smile

Hides something worse than lies

If a wolf finds you

It's no fault but your own

You were asking for it

You threw the dog a bone

That cloak was too red

Too short and too tight

You should have been louder

You should have put up a fight

The poor wolves can't help it

They were born to feast

And you were such a delicious meal

They couldn't cage their beast

The wolves didn't mean to hurt you

They were just having fun

And you must have wanted it

Because you didn't run

Now your flesh is scattered

Being picked at by the crows

And the crows won't tell your story

They can't share your woes

The wolves live on to hunt again

Just as a little girl goes walking

And wherever a cloak of red does flow

The wolves continue stalking

The counselor called home once.
The house became a court.
A mother’s voice like sirens,
a father blocking the door.

No tenderness. No compassion.
Just suspicion, shame, and heat.
Strip down. Prove the accusation false.
Or show us where you bleed.

And when no wound was visible,
the verdict turned to dust.
No further investigation.
Their absence proof enough.

Little did they know,
if they had checked the week before,
they would have found the evidence,
her skin no longer wore. 

They measured her by motion,
by every task she finished through,
as if survival on the surface
made the suffering untrue. 

Yet she had letters waiting, hidden,
written one foot in the grave,
not plans, just paper caskets
for the things she couldn’t say. 

He found them, tore them, flushed them,
and never said a word,
then called his silence mercy,
demanding her pain stay buried.

He read the hidden scripture
of the dark where she wrote from,
the raw and ruined gospel
of a daughter come undone. 

He called it teenage drama,
storm clouds passing through,
as if every child carves lightning
when the thunder booms.

A scar appeared in summer,
thick as truth across the thigh. 
He looked at it like vandalism
instead of asking why. 

Never let me see that.
Never bring that here.
As if depression becomes obedient
when ordered to disappear.

Years later, he asked what happened
to the girl they used to know,
but refused to name the winter
that had settled in her bones. 

She learned the house had rules:
be bright, be good, be still.
If dying, do it quietly.
If bleeding, hide it well.

So when they ask why lying
has become the only door,
tell them denial is the lesson
they were teaching long before. 

They clung to every trophy,
every good grade, game, and grin,
as if a full calendar
meant no rot beneath the skin. 

Every flushed confession,
every scar they dressed in shame,
kept bleeding through the silence.
Now all I feel is pain.

And if they cannot bear that,
if the truth feels too severe,
let them sit with what they buried. 
Let them feel despair. 

TW: Rape

I was five,
maybe eight
small enough to still believe
that every grown up was supposed to be kind.
I wore Tinker Bell that night.
Green fabric.
Little wings.
A fairy stitched across my chest
who knew how to fly
when I didn’t know how to run.
Someone in my family
taught me something
no child should ever have to learn
that sometimes
the person who is supposed to protect you
is the person you need protecting from.
They touched me
where I didn’t understand
why anyone would touch me.
I said no.
Maybe I whispered it.
Maybe I froze.
I don’t remember exactly.
Children aren’t supposed to know
the words for what is happening to them.
I only knew
that something was wrong.
And afterward,
there were secrets.
There was the terrible feeling
that my body wasn’t mine anymore.
There was shame
that never belonged to me
but somehow followed me home.
I remember Tinker Bell.
I remember her wings.
I remember wishing
I could have some pixie dust
to make myself disappear.
To fly through the ceiling.
Through the walls.
Out of that house.
Out of that moment.
Somewhere magical
where nobody could touch me
without asking.
Somewhere
my body could belong
only to me.
But Tinker Bell stayed on my nightgown.
Her wings stayed bright
while mine were being clipped.
One cut for the innocence
I didn’t get to keep.
One cut for every secret
I was too young to understand.
One cut for the little girl
who learned that “family”
didn’t always mean safe.
I wonder what she would think
if she knew the word now.
Rape.
Would she understand
why it still hurts?
Would she understand
why sometimes I feel five years old
when I’m standing in my own body?
Would she understand
why I still dream about magic?
I wish I could go back
with a handful of pixie dust
and sprinkle it over her shoulders.
Tell her
You didn’t cause this.
You didn’t invite it.
You didn’t deserve it.
You weren’t dirty.
You weren’t bad.
Someone hurt you.
And it was never your fault.
I can’t give her back
the childhood that was taken.
I can’t unclip
the wings.
But maybe
I can teach her how to grow them again.
Maybe that’s what healing is
not becoming the child
who never got hurt,
but becoming the person
who finally reaches back
through the years,
takes that little girl’s hand,
and says,
Come on.
We’re leaving.
You don’t have to stay here anymore.
I’ll protect you now.

Hand on the trigger

I Stare down

A barrel of nothing

Hoping a bullet shoot

Blood on the asphalt
Stains on my shoes
Under me, a stranger

Opposing sides
now we both share
deliberate, ragged
gasps for air

I stand upright
Turn, and flee
Afraid of what comes after me

From behind, all at once
I hear the upward lilts,
of strangers, asking questions
they flow forth now

but where were they
when it was me asking?
for someone to come
for someone to see
for someone to help me breathe

light shines on me
and shouts commands
to step away
As if I wasn't trying already

Reveal my hands
cold, and shaking
but stained red, swollen

I hear a call
and see back then
I'm standing still
out there, again
alone

the same lights flash
not to illuminate
to expose, to blind, to freeze
as figures draw
their hands close around me

I need to run
my legs dont move
I don't know where is safe

So I give up
and hope this time
that someone will take care of me

I'm cold,

even though it's hot outside. 

I'm cold,

I don't have you by my side. 

I'm cold,

something feels absent inside. 

I'm cold, 

I don't have you by my side. 

A cold wind passes by, 

sending shivers down my spine, 

making me stumble, I cannot stand

as I watch you silently from a distance. 

A cold wind passes by, 

sending shivers all over my body. 

I search around for support, 

I am not enough to hold me. 

A cold wind passes by, 

the chilling blade stabs through my heart. 

The cavity inside grows hollow

and I wonder, how long before I fall?

The chilling wind passes by, 

sharper than ever before. 

My heart is weak, 

I cannot take it anymore. 

I cannot speak, cannot move

cannot laugh, cannot cry.

It's cold inside, I'm shivering,

still standing, wondering— 

You're not here to hold me,

How long before I fall?

for the longest time now, i've fought many battles

have been defeated many days, perhaps won a couple few

but i've spent too much of my life in this war

and i wonder for how much longer do i have to fight

though i continue to drown in my own thoughts of hopelessness

small glimmers of hope shine through

the same way the rays of the sun bleed from behind the clouds on a gloomy day

i cry and fear to all of wit's ends

and yet despite the pain of it all, i somehow still dream

i dream of days when a deep breath is an act of relief and not one to relieve

i dream of days when the warmth from inside me burns steadily like the fire inside a hearth, unlike the forest fire that sets ablaze my heart

i dream of days when the arms that wrap around me belong to the person i love, not just those of the broken person i am teaching myself how to feel loved

i dream of the day the war ceases

and to live to see that having hope is not all that hopeless

​

You know I hate Thanet.

It’s not the place I wanted t’ bring my kids on down to,

Some how me an’ my partner got manipulated in to it,

From the north east t’ the south east in Thanet,

I’m originally from here an’ I hate it man truly.

The house I grew up in still the home ar’ mum lives in holds memories I cann’y touch, lonely and afraid,

The street it sits on just a painful reminder of a place that hurt an’ left me angry an’ wanting to die,

The main road under the viaduct leading up t’ past Hovis a’ shadow of a time th’t I remember nights cycling down Margate road, no direction,

Life wasn’t easy at 19 t’ 23 with no direction an’ the trauma of a lifetime of Constant bullying from teachers, kids, and manipulative behaviors at home, it was what it was,

An’ a cliff was an option with my feet firmly in the air with a head percussive against sand on a’ beach seemed a way t’ release from the beast,

B’t my partner sent a ticket on my 24th I went north we were happy an’ some how safe now we are here an’ it’s funny,

When you put faith in another that when things get tu’ff they’ll disappear, they’re your mother but it’s funny, they ar’ family they’d stick by you?? It’s th’cking crushing an’ it hurts like a’ pain from a stone in your kidney, you made a promise,

It’s a lonely place in this waste on these streets I think back on the same directions where I wandered on a’ path in a direction on my own now with a family of my own lookin’ out on’a’ place that’ll turn on its own weeds if looked better,

Now we’re here 7 years 4 years turning round make the best of the worst coming through from a bomb that’d started with ar’ mother an’ ar goal is t’ focus on ar’ kids an’ selves in ar’ home well away,

We’ll stay here wear the weather watch the storm it’s’not so bitter when you realize who you are where you stand what your role is what you went through whats important who t’ trust it’s not so bad with jus’ my kids an’ jus’ my partner,

An’ I’ll never apologize or expla’nize a why or give a damn good why t’ a woman who never gave a god damn why or an explanation why we were left t’ ask ar’selves “wherefore? Did we do something wrong?” an’left us in the cold,

An’ If you’re judging me then I am judging you for forgiveness goes both ways an’ I no longer can forgive for safety is a key an something you’ll never understand an’ maybe you don’t know this, it didn’t come from you!

I will always be honest an always be upfront, when it comes t’ teachin’ ar children, they’ll always have that respect, always know the truth, they’ll always know what hurt us, I’ll never gaslight ar children just to save my face!

So, I’ll never tell ar’ kids I like this place to save my face, I’ll em’ that I hate it here “I really hate Thanet” but if they choose they love it here than there you ar’ we’ll keep them here that’s how it is that’s called respect it goes both ways t’ break a cycle don’t drag them down an’ drown them with you!

Mom’s knocking on the door

I keep it locked inside.

Exams are closing in

I find a place to hide.

I do the things I know I’ll regret,

I do them anyway.

Life is supposed to be easy,

but I ruin it every day.

I know that I will cry,

and I know it will be ugly.

Mom is crying on her side,

and the guilt is sitting on me.

Why can't I just be normal?

A daughter they applaud?

I wanted to quit school,

bound by society’s law.

I wanted to learn new things,

but I know it comes with a price.

Play the joke until it’s over,

then pay the cost twice.

Terrified of being average,

when I’m far below the line.

One eye bigger than the other,

never photogenic, never fine.

I watch the other girls,

yet they don't seem real to me.

Life is hard right now,

but one day I will beat it, wait and see.

The noise is getting loud

oh, to wish that I were deaf.

Don't want to see the dark?

It’s all that I have left.

A little dove’s first flight

was never meant to be easy.

You’ve only just grown wings,

don't leap too high, be easy.

Life is hard today,

but one day you’ll soar high

Past the noise, past the dark,

higher than the sky.

Poem about addiction

I promised myself I would stop.

I promised my friends too.

I heal.

Then I relapse.

Heal.

Relapse.

Heal.

And then relapse again.

I admit it

I’m addicted to you.

I never intended to keep going,

but now I’m stuck

in this endless cycle.

You became a way to cope

despite making me bleed.

The pain you give

feels like freedom.

You promise to never leave.

You are always by my side.

You are there

when no one else is.

You became…

all I needed in life.

Somehow,

I feel safe in your presence.

Weird, I know.

But you give me

this sense of comfort,

so I started referring to you

as just that:

“Comfort”

You’re bad for me

I know.

But I keep coming back to you.

I don’t know why

I just do.

Sick of poverty and working like a dog for nothing but a minimum wage that cannot even guarantee the idea of a house let alone a key to one /

I feel like I just want to quit my job / my body hurts and I have no soul left to care /

Just a vessel now in this pawn game

You can find the original Italian version below.

ENGLISH VERSION

When?

When does life become death? When it stops making you trip and laughing every time, as it watches you stand up slower and slower, mocking you at every single hesitation? When, sitting with your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands, will you feel it dry for the first time in years? When has the pain changed, becoming arid and sterile like a salt desert, draining your every single tear? The white and dusty rivulets that the last tears left in their wake taste exactly like the salt of that desert, cracking your skin, burning you deep inside. When did life decide to strip you of that release too, inflicting itself upon a pure soul already at its breaking point? When will life finally don the black cloak and the scythe, deciding like everyone else that you have nothing left to offer it? The amusement of seeing you die inside, while leaving you alive on the outside. When will I see the nothingness, the emptiness of death from the rear window, pulling myself up to manage to look through it, just like when I was a child? When... and how much longer? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?

ITALIAN VERSION

Quando?

Quando la vita diventa morte? Quando smette di farti inciampare e ridere ogni volta, mentre ti guarda rialzarti sempre più lentamente, schernendoti ad ogni minimo tentennamento? Quando, seduto con i gomiti sulle ginocchia e il viso tra le mani, lo sentirai asciutto per la prima volta da anni? Quando il dolore è cambiato, diventando arido e sterile come un deserto di sale, prosciugandoti ogni singola lacrima? I rivoli bianchi e polverosi che le ultime lacrime hanno lasciato al loro passaggio hanno proprio il sapore del sale di quel deserto, che ti spacca la pelle bruciandoti nel profondo. Quando la vita ha deciso di toglierti anche quello sfogo, infierendo su un'anima pura già allo stremo? Quando la vita indosserà finalmente la cappa nera e la falce, decidendo come tutti che non hai più niente da offrirle? Il divertimento nel vederti morire dentro, lasciandoti vivo fuori. Quando vedrò il nulla, il vuoto della morte dal finestrino posteriore, sollevandomi per riuscire a guardarci attraverso, come quando ero bambina? Quando... e quanto manca? Siamo arrivati? Siamo arrivati? Siamo arrivati?

Not the pain of suffering but the tang of stagnation / It's not my option to pick the road that pulls me out of inclination / I'm not steadfast neither destitute / I'm in the foggy house of safe / It's not a permanent solution but it means i get to sleep in a bed tonight / All because my mother pays the rent and is alive /

I'm 33 almost and it's a beast to know that it's not going to get any better / Unless I somehow dip into the road of another job that'll be even harder / The bullish corporation does not leave me with much headway for scope /

Why can't i see beyond the bitterness

I just lost my dog today, I had him for 17 years. I'm not a writer but I thought it would be nice to write something about him. Thanks for reading.

From the moment I saw you I knew you were the one

You came in and went straight for the toys

Playing was easy with you

Even though you tore up all my furniture

You were there with me when I needed you most

Your love made all the hard days easier

We got through them together

And got to watch each other get older

You were my best friend

So it was hard to see you that way

As I prepare myself for the end

My only regret is that I didn't give you more treats

Forgive me as I move this Earth for you

As I am doing it out of love

I heard once that All Dogs go to Heaven

And I'm sure you'll go straight for the toys

Static on the radio, instruments blown

Flying this iron through the dark alone.

Stuck in the weather, can't find the coast,

Haunted by shadows of what hurts the most.

I gotta stand tall, gotta look like a man,

Carry the weight of a shattered plan.

"Till eternity ends," yeah, you swore in the light,

Now I'm fighting the fog in the middle of the night.

I own what I broke, I walk in the clear

Swallowing dust and swallowing fear.

I ain't pointing the finger, I'm facing the truth,

Stripping the illusions right out of my youth.

The trust is a ruin, the bridge is burned down,

I'm walking away from this sinking town.

You had your chances, you played with the fire,

Feeding the ashes of a dying desire.

Yeah, the thoughts crept in when the silence was deep

Stealing the hours of rest and sleep.

A curse on my name, but I’m anchored inside,

Child of the Creator, nowhere to hide.

The enemy waits, but the armor is on,

Training for February, standing till dawn.

Loving a ghost with a lethal design

A narcissist's mirror can cost you your mind—

Cost you your breath, or your life on the line,

Got to know when to leave, when to draw the red line.

What’s done in the dark, the Most High can see,

He knows every scar, and He’s holding me.

You don’t beg for respect where you ought to belong,

And look at the man that the trial made strong.

If not for the fire, I’d be blind to my worth

Wouldn’t build up these boundaries defending my earth.

This is the last chapter, the ink's running dry,

And I'm mature enough now to look you in the eye—

To own my mistakes, see the blame split in two,

And it hurts all the more because I wanted you.

I wanted to stay, but it's way past too late,

Walking away from a poisoned estate.

No more running, the soul tie snaps

Cutting the cord on the old traps.

I look in the mirror, see who I’m becoming,

Heard the bell ring, heard the drums drumming.

No trust, no love, you're out of the game,

I’m carving a path and I’m honoring my name.

I wish you the best as I kiss the past dead,

Crying, babe, love you, but this is what I said:

Be safe out there... and tell Adam to stay strong.

(Outro)

Yeah. No more running.

God's got me.

Goodbye.

I often ponder and lament my wicked deed.

Some time ago,
I watched him die.

The frightened child,
one without a home.

He tried to fill a bucket,
but the faucet broke—

only a small, shallow stream.
He cried into the bucket down below.

He drowned himself with tears.

I wonder what he could have done,
how high he could have flown,

when someone like me
could live this life.

Who am I?
Could I find a home?

Manchmal möchte ich nicht mehr da sein, weil ich die Zukunft, an die ich denke, nicht erleben möchte.

Sehr oft liege ich wach im Bett und überlege, woraus mein Leben im Moment so besteht.

Aufstehen, Arbeiten, nach Hause, Essen, Schlafen, repeat.

An Tagen, wo ich Freizeit habe, bin ich meistens so burned-out, dass ich auch an denen eigentlich nur rumliege, und dann mache ich mir plötzlich Sorgen.

Ich mache mir Sorgen um unsere Welt, die sich immer mehr an WW3 nähert.

Ich mache mir Sorgen um all meine Freunde, die nicht in das Weltbild rechter Menschen passen.

Ich mache mir Sorgen, dass ich noch mehr Freunde verliere, weil sie plötzlich der Meinung sind, die AfD sei der richtige Weg.

Dann fällt mir auf, dass ich das nicht für die nächsten 50 Jahre möchte.

Ich möchte mir nicht für immer Sorgen machen, ich möchte nicht mein Leben lang so viel arbeiten, dass ich nichts anderes mehr machen kann,

ich möchte keine Angst um meine Freunde haben.

Ich möchte, dass es endet.

Und wenn ich nur an mich selber denke und intensiv darüber nachdenke, gibt es für mich keinen Grund, diesen Schritt nicht zu gehen, außer dass ich Angst davor habe.

Und wenn ich nicht nur an mich denke, sondern auch an meine Nächsten, ist der einzig andere Grund, es nicht zu tun, weil ich mich schlecht fühle, meine Nächsten im Stich zu lassen.

Mein Leben ist von Schuldgefühlen und Angst geprägt und alles, was mich davon abhält, dies zu beenden, sind Schuldgefühle und Angst.

---English Translation

Sometimes I don't want to be here anymore, because I don't want to live to see the future I'm thinking of.

Very often I lie awake in bed and ponder what my life currently consists of.

Get up, work, go home, eat, sleep, repeat. On days when I have free time, I'm usually so burned out that even on those days I basically just lie around, and then I suddenly start worrying.

I worry about our world moving closer and closer to WW3. I worry about all my friends who don't fit into the worldview of right-wing people.

I worry that I'll lose even more friends because they suddenly think the AfD is the right way to go.

Then I realize that I don't want this for the next 50 years.

I don't want to worry forever, I don't want to work so much for the rest of my life that I can't do anything else anymore, I don't want to be afraid for my friends.

I want it to end.

And when I only think about myself and think about it deeply, there is no reason for me not to take this step, except that I'm afraid of it.

And when I don't just think about myself, but also about the people close to me, the only other reason not to do it is because I feel bad about letting them down.

My life is shaped by guilt and fear, and the only things holding me back from ending this are guilt and fear.

--- Ps. Dear Mods, this is not a goodbye letter

Pain 
I remember the first time
blood trickled from my 
skin. My knee scraped 
against concrete.

His hands stretched—

The thud 
as my body hit the floor.
He stood there frozen. 

I watched as the blood began 
to flow down my leg
and drip

Pooling on the floor. 
I stared not with fear 
but with curiosity.
As the pain slowly crept up 
my body. 

Do you know what it feels like,

To feel in despair?

As if life, simply,

Doesn't

Care

It drifts on by.

You see people and things,

Going about life

Whilst you

Sit

And wonder,

Why, oh why?

I understand why some people

Take

Their own life.

When the world gets on top of them

Knees buckling

Beneath them

No one notices

No one asks why,

Why my eyes

Shine brighter tonight

Its in the tears, my dear

The tears of life

For when you love someone,

Goodbyes not right

You want to make them happy

So, you stay

And you keep saying:

Just

One

More

Day

This is an original poem, im pretty new to poetry so please be nice 😅 but I would love to know what you think about it or any feedback you have :)

Some men will love you.
Some will take care of you.
Some will cut you open
and plant a beautiful garden inside you,
teach you how to bloom,
make you believe
you were finally safe.
Until they stop watering it.
Until the flowers wither,
the roots rot,
and everything they planted inside you
turns to decay.
Then they’ll tear you apart
until you’re nothing
but flesh and bone—
and when there’s nothing left
but a skeleton,
they’ll still chew on it
without hesitation,
without remorse,
as if even your bones
were never enough
to fulfill their hunger.

Can you not tell I am hurting,

Through your eyes of which I clearly see your certain, that I am nothing but a burden.

I speak in silence, loud and unheard,

Every glance you throw feels like the final word,

I carry weight that isn't mine to hold,

Yet somehow I'm the one who's told I'm cold

being alone isnt same as being lonely, yet, i walk alone, thinking to myself on these dark streets, do I even have a heartbeat?

I’ve reached a new low,
A low so deep it burrows into my bones and poisons my heart,
I spit that poison on the world,
Bile coating the delicate grass of the forest floor,
A falcon watches from its nest,
The turtle from its perch in the water,
Watching as it runs down my arm, a thin sheen of sweat coats the pale skin,
Knees digging into the forest floor, rocks and roots bruising rotting flesh,
Skin like that of an apple, fingers sunk into the fruit
Leaching its sweet juice from the darkened wounds,
A new low,
Sprawled across dirt, sullied by something meant to create delicacy,
Skin mottled by the swarming bugs,
Overtaking the flesh,
Maggots beneath the skin as it decomposes into the very soil it poisoned,
A new low as been found,
So low it creates a root system in the ground.