Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Paper Cuts

I found this poem among my non-posted items from back in the day. So, I wrote this several years ago. Because of the overflow of memories that came back to me when I read it, I decided to post it in all of it's glorious vulgarity.
I'm slightly amazed at how different life is now.

Those words came out of my mouth a thousand times
A thousand fucking times
And you still can’t hear me

Get the hell

There it is
Spelled out

Not that it matters much to me…

You heard me
Oh you heard me
10 minutes before you said
“It’s alright baby, I love you”

Loved me?
You covet the virgin you took from me

You ripped my favorite pair of panties…
Ass hole

It’s possible that I don’t hate men
I hate you
And the voices of women abused
Cry out in my head
Begging for justice

They follow me on the streets
Tape on their mouths
Begging me to use my voice

Maybe the next voice will cry out
Cry for them
Cry for me

My only regret in life is my… silence

I should have stolen the breath right out of your lungs
The skin should have disappeared from my fucking knuckles after you checked my wrist

Slit my wrist for you?

You’re not worth a fucking paper cut

Drown in your unworthiness
And let you’re conscious suck the life right out of you
I hope to never see you...

Never again

But if I do
Lift your wrists
I want to see the damage
That life has done to you

1 comment:


wow. that was raw, i can feel the anger and pain in your words.

"They follow me on the streets/ Tape on their mouths/ Begging me to use my voice" -- this right here... i can't explain it, but there is something in this that caught my eyes.

always hold strong, you are better than them.