RSS Feed

Tag Archives: Shame

Don’t Be Nice to Me

You could cut me ’til I bleed,
drain my life away.
It won’t hurt so bad-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
You could force me to my knees,
lay me ‘pon a bed of nails,
or burn me at the stake-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
You could call me any name,
you could tell me any lie,
say the shameful things I am-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
You could turn your back on me,
leave me shirtless in the cold,
watch me freeze to death-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
You can beat me,
choke away my breath.
You could even lock me up-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
Kindness is a deadly weapon,
there is no defense.
No other pain akin to this.
So please, don’t be nice to me.
*
My head may know the truth,
but my soul has been miswired.
Pain is a relief, and pleasure my agony.
So please, don’t be nice to me.
Advertisements

Demons

There’s a peculiarity of mine,
something so dank, so savage, as to be unspeakable.
A lurid creature lurking in the putrid recesses of my upbringing;
undiscoverable, unphotographable, undiscernable, 
yet terrifyingly palpable.
In all technicality, harmless,
a waking dream of pure terror.
Closer than my shadow,
unriddable parasite of the soul.
The antithesis of joy,
the retribution for passion,
unknowable nemesis and bane of muchness.
Fits of passion flowing out,
unbridled joy, righteous anger, simple love.
The helpless subject of a primal god,
my punishment is swift, sure, severe.
Body and soul wracked together with knowing;
worthless, shameful, disgusting, selfish- rude.
Demon unnameable, showcasing the underside of my soul.

The Dirtiest Word

Shocked, scared sick, stupid

All these things I am

Never should’ve told her

Foolish to seek comfort

There’s never any comfort

Just wanted her love

Now I’ve her sympathy

Humiliated

Ashamed to have told

Bruises, belts, broken paddles

Fits of temper

Headlocks

Hitting every stair

The truth feels guilty like a lie

She hurts for me

Calls it what it is

But that word isn’t mine

Try to backtrack

Change her mind

Afraid I’ll be in trouble

Scared he’ll be as well

Defend him

Say it’s not his fault

Find a way to get away

Go back home from camp

What you know

Is safer than what you don’t

It’s ok, you’re used to it

You’ll be eighteen someday

In a Moving Car

With your back up against the wall,

do you fight him, or do you run?

When you’re trapped with no one to call,

the trouble’s only just begun.

It’s not your fault you’re in his thrall,

with your battle lost, but his won.

        -You shouted, fought, gave it your all.

           Betrayed to this fate, by someone

           who’s meant to catch you when you fall.

           Treated like ‘twas some tale you spun,

            your fears were meritless and small.-

So, you’re the punchline of his fun.

Powerless. Subject to his maul.

He knows you won’t tell anyone

you went along, you’ll take the fall.

It’s you, must live with what he’s done.