Throwback 

   
I came across this piece just now and I was completely unaware that I wrote it, until I was half way through. 

In those seconds, it dawned on me how unbelievablely easy it was for me to write about topics I had absolutely no idea of.

Now, that I’m learning to be aware of my emotions, writing has become such a foreign talent of mine.

Long story short, I can finally relate to what what I used to write about and now that I’m experiencing it, I find it difficult to write.

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A Mile; In Suicidal Shoes

you’re not a bad person for the way you kill your sadness…

Each pill dissolving on your tongue, the way you wished your pain would.

But pain is not like people,
you can’t just talk it away,

And people aren’t simple,
you cannot force them to stay.

99 pills at once,

Like problems shoved down your throat.

Difficult to swallow.

Difficult to breathe.

life isn’t easy.

Death is a breeze.

your living pain is unbearable,
And you can’t wait to leave.

Coping, are your eyes,
Struggling to stay awake.

Starved is your heart,
Unable to eat joy.

Confused is your mind,
How could misery be so happy, when it always has you in mind.

No suicide note.

No one deserves to know how frozen their coldness left you.

How their ghostly words
that escaped their tongue
now haunt you-
Like you will now haunt them.

You’ve managed to stop the world from spinning.

Slowly floating away.

Never felt anything so great.

Embracing you body for the fight, maybe now, it too, will understand the scars you placed above every vain.

It too, will fully feel the pain you’ve been exposed to.

You hoping nothing goes wrong, because it’s way too right.

So light as a feather,
is this moment.
Unable to feel the ground.

You feel rest,
Drowning in peace.

As your troubled soul escapes from you

Happy,

That no one is nearby to save you.

Happiness like this doesn’t last
It turns into pain of the past.

you clinch every single part of you.

Then finally

With your last breath

YOU.ARE.FREE

For Sale

I consciously placed a sale tag on a non-discountable good.
The one timeless peice,
People would merely walk in and admire,
Was on sale.

Aware,
But based on pure frustration, 
I wanted it to go.
Those who walked in
To purely admire it,
Were in disbelief
Those who had never seen it before, knew it was a steal.
Commotion at the door.

Flipped
Tossed
Tugged
Dropped
Scratched and
Pulled
All the way to the till
They, all of a sudden forgot I had value
For that moment
I was worth that 50% I had placed on me.

Shocked, that even those that knew me
Were willing to walk all over me.
I remembered who I was.
My true value
My worth.

I placed me back to where I belonged
They weren’t happy
They might not even view me for a very long time.
But I’m happy.
I’m happy I got myself back
I then began to stitch myself together
and began to acknowledge my worth.

Every scar
Every follicle
Every strand of hair
Specifically crafted.

I realised why I don’t go flying off the shelves like those around me.
I was not made in a sweat shop.
Every part of me was hand crafted.
Features of my mother and father merged together on face.
Although they are no longer together.
I am both of them.
But in their bothness, 
I am me.
A timeless peice.
Never willing to put myself on sale again.

Validation

I see girls switching on their cameras, stripping off their morals, in search for validation; in the form of 1000 likes.

I’ve seen and heard them say and do things, in spite of what they promised, their 8 year old self.

In the wee hours of the morning, you can see teardrops seep from underneath their doors, Crying for love, that they cannot afford to give themselves.

They Strain their pockets and kill their legs, just to look prettier than the next girl, like we’re all in some sort of attention grabbing competition.

I’ve heard them say hurtful things, to other woman, to get a backing from a man, who will probably think less of her, but want to see more of her, naked, on his body.

I’ve seen and been a victim of how they step on heads and lay on beds just to elevate themselves.

The world gets to see how their confidence is actually on their skin, by the way they barely have clothes on.

Somehow I’m grateful for men that confuse woman, because it makes it easier to sift for a woman who possess Character. A woman who never wavers her decisions based on a man’s current preference.
Thick, skinny, dreaded, long hair, natural,  makeup yet bare.

A woman of substance and self love. Never alters her life or value system based on how a man is feeling during their encounter.

We, as a woman, need to stop craving positive feedback to help us see how our identity and beauty fits into a man’s world. We seek for validation on social media, because we get instant feedback and gratification. Problem is, we are looking for validation in very dangerous places.

Let’s be honest;

“Social media is a virtual talking mirror that contains irrelevant voices”

All I’m saying is, most influential voice,  should come from within…

“I have grown to understand that I’m difficult to love, not because I’m broken, but  because I’m whole. I don’t give guys the luxury of loving me in parts. I love all of me whole heartedly, so it becomes difficult for a guy to squeeze through my insecurities to fill a void he might think I possess. I don’t get aroused by petty compliments.
See, some guys find joy in loving someone who’s broken so that they fix them just to break them again.”

Dear Destroyer

You took a huge part of me & ran away,
When were you planning on telling me?

In your head, I was just a phase.
You should have fucking told me.
 
The only reason I don’t let people in,
Is because I hate how they always up and leave.
No goodbyes,
Just up and out as they please.

I was honestly on the verge of blaming myself, thinking my emotional flaws pushed you away.

I thought maybe those couple of days weren’t my “Fully Me” days.

But is wasn’t me, was it?
It was you who pushed yourself away.

Unfortunately I’m not the type that forces people to stay.

You got me so close to letting my walls fall down, so many times I felt them shake.

Labelled you “too good to be true”, now I can see your Knight and Shining amour Silhouette was fake.

Okay, no I’m lying…

But I can’t believe that you used the oldest trick in the book as your bloody bait.  

Better yet, I can’t believe I fell for it.

It was a matter of time before your dirty colours escaped.
I’m glad I didn’t witness the kaleidoscope of your chaos.

I guess it’s not much irony that the climax of our in betweens was the actual climax between the sheets.

Or I guess it was dramatic irony, because as your actress to a play I didn’t even audition for, I was never clued that my character was foolish and lacked self-awareness.

I would have never taken the role if you didn’t present it and under false pretence.

But honestly, I wouldn’t have let you hit it when you did.

I can’t help but let the little laughs escape my breath when I realise that you’re mature act was just part of your masquerade.

Never in a million years would I ( under normal circumstances) thought I’d ever be at the receiving end of your childish outburst.     
    
Ohh, and that thing you took from me? You’re welcome to keep it, in fact, keep this little poem as your damn receipt. No returns though. I want you to keep it.

P.S
If you wanted me to write warmly about you, you should have acted better.