857 posts
  • meaner_than_your_ex 5d

    Heya Guys! So I'm now Back with my Awfulness and Scribbles. Hopefully I get you all Thinking about Everything I Write here and Get You Light and Sassier. I'm Now Perfectly Fine. Survived Two Suicidal Points. Got Rid off last remaining Balance of The Past. So here I am. Writing without a Care about what anyone who reads shall Say, Coz I write not to Please but Make thee Feel.

    - Me ��

    @writersnetwork @mirakee @mirakeeworld

    #Writersnetwork #Mirakee #comeback #surviving #struggles #overcame #beattheodds #survivor

    Read More

    My Comeback.

    I hope I Find Everything I Looked in Thee,
    Because you,
    My Dear...
    Didn't take me Serious. Back Then.


  • sawliha 2w

    Love letters to a survivor

    To: A loved, and strong woman

    She, barely uttering a single word
    Unable to contain the burst of unrecognisable emotion
    Thoughts circulating an entity of her innocent heart
    So many thoughts, almost infinite, that it restricts her ability to scream

    Yet still, somewhere in her suffocation
    She found a voice deep within her throat
    And exploded for the sake of justice

    But lucky him
    He does not remember
    The fear in her eyes
    The injustice which she cannot even speak about!

    And lucky him
    They called a lie
    Oppressed her out of her own body
    And stole the last of her dignity

    Humans do lie.
    Tears may lie
    But my love
    I swear to God
    Your eyes do not lie

    Fear not
    Although you may feel isolated
    And silenced
    One thing is for sure
    They may have forgotten
    You may think we have
    But we have not

    I promise you
    That God will give justice
    To the ignorant
    The selfish
    And I swear
    If we are all as brave as you
    We will all be there to watch

    I pray
    That God showers you with love
    And removes that which haunts your dreams

    You are trusted
    You are appreciated
    You are loved
    And most importantly
    You are not alone

  • monalisasahoo_1999 2w

    Wo 12 saal ki baachi

    Har taraf Andhere mei,
    Koi anjaan chhuan tha mujhe
    daari sehmi si,sihar gayi thi mei..

    Laga nhi tha itni besahara hun mei,
    dari hui ek zinda lash bangyi thi mei..
    ghabrayi si thi mei,ruhh kanmp gaya tha,
    kisi apne ka hevaniyat mujhe maardia tha..

    Kahin bar majboor hokar,najarandaz kar gyi,
    samaj ki Sikh se izzat bachane ke liye chup hogayi...
    Bas pata nahi kya galti tha mera,
    Kya sirf ladki banna gunha hogya mera!!!!!!!!


  • whatrealityisthisagain 2w

    One Year

    It’s been a full year since they took my choice from me.
    One year since my final battered string snapped. 
    One year since I lost all my hope, and my trust;
    My light and my senses,
    My fight, and...
    Though my body tried to tell me this day was approaching,
    I was afraid... and pretended not to notice its warning. 
    Of course it didn’t work!
    Of course it made things worse!
    My anxiety rose,
    My panic won out.
    I sat in my car, all my calls dropping. 
    I fumbled about before letting it all drown me. 
    I shook, and I sobbed-
    While gasping for air. 
    I searched and I wondered what my life had in store. 
    Then I drove down the freeway, and pondered it all.
    Aware of my speed, 
    And the wind blowing through my hair. 
    My music was blaring, and my mind finally clear!
    I thought back, over this last horrid year. 
    I thought of my fog, and of my lack of fear. 
    I remembered my plummet,
    And the place I had landed was all too clear. 
    I remembered even hell seemed better than this!
    And just how close I was to taking that trip. 
    Then I took a deep breath, 
    And went even further. 
    And that’s when I realized:
    In the span of a year, 
    My whole outlook has changed.
    In the span of ONE YEAR!
    I’ve beaten so much pain!
    My life fell apart! I’d lost so many things!
    Only eight months ago! I almost ended!
    And yet...
    I’m still here...
    My heart... is still beating. 
    My lungs... still filling with air...
    My life is... Improving!
    My strength... Is still here!
    Twelve months ago I started getting help for the pain they had caused. 
    Months after that, I was still in that fog. 
    The time there is blurry, mingled, and meshed; 
    But one thing is clear:
    It’s a fucking year later!
    AND BITCHES! I’m still fucking here!
    Yes! Today’s been painful!
    Yes! It’s been a Hell of a year!
    But looking back again!
    I’ve realized just how strong and powerful I really am!
    I’ve battled countless demons! 
    I’ve fallen to multiple monster’s hands and way too many fears!
    I may have lost my footing and traveled past all solid ground.
    I’d been consumed by flames for so long, I’d nothing left to burn.
    Without fully realizing, I finally just...
    Let go. 
    The fire consumed me, and... somehow-
    I took back control...
    I may have fallen in many battles, I may have lost countless fights;
    But I’ve emerged from my ashes, and consumed my own flames!
    I’ve beaten more armies; I’ve won countless wars! 
    My enemies are retreating! Terrified of the warrior they ensured was reborn!


  • deadlittlesongbird 3w

    Fall Into Me

    Capallaries burst and rupture
    From the rush of pain and pleasure
    The perfect amalgamation of both
    That keep our dark hearts beating.

    You make me feel the best I've ever felt,
    So you'll slap my face
    As I choke you with my garter belt.
    Who says romance is dead?

    You stab me while I'm down,
    Your face will haunt my dreams.
    Painting each others bodies in bruises,
    Making sanguine art that oozes.

    Regale me with the tales of what keep you up at night
    Create pictures with blood of the things
    That twist and writhe in that pretty little mind.
    Feed me your insomnia fuel.

    So I'll kiss my heinous cravings on the lips
    As I fall into you and break apart.
    Shivering and naked, split wide open at the hips
    I know just how you like it.

    I want you to burn in my rage and hurt,
    Feel it blistering and scorching your insides.
    Fall into me and we'll light up the sky
    Nothing left but the ash from the fourth of July.

  • canadian_cowboy 3w

    She wondered how long she had left
    When they first said her end was soon nigh
    No wonder her heart was bereft
    For who wants to know when they'll die?
    But she has since beaten their bets
    And refused to give in to their claims
    She'll continue for decades more yet
    To put their prognosis to shame


  • astroanomic 4w

    Why is it now
    When I am safer
    And braver than
    I've ever felt before
    Do I find myself
    Looking over my shoulder
    For the ghost of someone
    I keep telling myself
    I'm not afraid of


  • just_neil_2 4w

    Never forget those
    who believed in you
    even when you didn't.

  • the_village_poet 5w

    A Letter To My Rapists

    What is my name,
    or I guess you really don’t care,
    about this innocent girl
    that you ravaged; stripped bare?

    How did it feel,
    when you took control,
    bruised my tender skin,
    blemished my soul?

    Did you even think
    that I am a person with feelings
    and that you were scarring me
    for the rest of my life?

    Do you even know,
    how it feels to want to bleed,
    so that I don’t have to live anymore.
    with the nightmares I see?

    Someday the wrath for what you did,
    will strike you so far down,
    that you will be begging for your own life,
    as you lie clawing at the ground.

    And you will know at that moment,
    just how it felt when I,
    cried out and begged for you to stop
    while you were raping me; ruining my life.

    Stacey Welsh

  • gwencanfield 5w

    Black Labeled

    Do i establish as king,
    To be held as afar?
    Do I write poems that I sing,
    To keep locked up in my heart?
    Or do I branch out,
    Spread strong, my own wings
    Stretch out of my comfort's
    Box by Facing the unknown...
    Bravely keeping my course
    Full speed and head on!!
    Moving forward quite swiftly
    Into what's now the unknown.
    Seeing discovery as new paths
    To be first paved and trodden.
    Of the stillness that's here
    In all that has held longing
    Waiting Patiently yet to be,
    finally found and discovered.
    The path, of aloneness,
    Of healed therapy pain
    by being made lowly and humbled.
    So far this path that we speak
    now freely of, has been
    largely left alone, ignored
    like a wasteland.
    Appropriately it has been named
    Black labelled and drawn
    Its label like a crown of thornes
    Like noone that comes forward
    to claim this barren,
    part of quiet desserted land.
    With the simplest of set ups
    Allowing for growth that may be unlimited, untarnished,
    wild and free
    But not considered worth it
    That of the painful price listed
    fewer still that feel it is worthy
    of that highest of costs
    which is the cost or price
    Of risking your own embarrasment
    Or worst yet as sowing a failure
    Instead of earning a fruitful
    Rich returning harvest.
    This abandoned, or forgotten
    set of potential rebirth
    Is still on lifes journey map
    as being poorly understood
    Or not fully known,
    it is called the uncharted
    As few leave their patterned ways, to forge new footsteps to follow
    They that give what's
    yet to be mapped and engraved.
    The mystery, the turning point
    That uncharted of all places
    brings most kings to have nothing
    felt lessened more than strong, more rich with a weakness
    a true Poverty of friendship
    an unwanted loss
    of respect and true integrity.
    They're character coming
    into legal question with a
    keen sense of its loss
    This doesnt come with not trying
    To conquer, or expand
    To rule with a fist of gold
    Upon the mapped out land
    Is this too much for most to risk
    They felt the loss closer to lips telling and retelling their history down thru the ages, to concerned for their reputation's role...
    But will you be different?
    Will you be that one brave soul
    Or are you just like those others?
    The ones that came before you
    In the worlds pattern of habit
    These creatures of safety
    Sick with longing in their own stolen, bankrupt homes...
    Or will you cautiously be better
    And bravely move on and up,
    Will you stick out your neck
    Surely but slowly on its own
    Bravely being a standing king
    Of your own chosen actions
    By being the very first of a kind
    To break free from generations
    That came before it,
    for decades on end
    Of sinly lazy habits,
    Chained down in prisons of fear
    Growing rates of return
    That equal less than zero
    Moving forward in nowhere
    In its decisive round of turns,
    The turn, the change, the chance to be better, that stutters at first then with it brings the potential
    for freedom and storytelling lore
    Its own set of challenges,
    its own type of blessings
    And its produce of fruit,
    sown seeds of those courageous watered down by regret or guilt
    River currents of faith,
    Turn into waves lapping
    At fear's brokendown feet
    That carry the weight
    But not easily born, by those
    Hearts of those feeling
    Like they are just being forgotten or less than that even
    not producing its own cost in price
    And losing all its value
    In its lost purpose for which
    we all are given in the gift of life.
    Are we felt charged with to find
    Search for until in death
    We give of ourselves to pay
    This life what is owed?
    Fear can spur greater faith
    Acts of courage born brave weakness is all but forgotten
    in acts of forgiving kindness
    Patience and chances unearned
    Unconditiinal love is only true
    Seconds after its earned respect and its echoes are on
    the finish lines for those that race
    And take the road less traveled
    Marked by furrows so deep
    But that that persevere, keep
    Strong, and face that historic leap.
    Those few, those brave
    Those perfectly made strong.
    Opposites attracting only
    because symboitically together they are felt to be stronger.
    Stronger as 2 instead of as one,
    if they stand alone the contrast
    Seen is weaker but is ironically strengthened in their appearance as being coupled with a pair,
    Complimenting them both ss seperate parts of an actionable item that is arguably vibrant,
    in its definitions of what's pure whatever they are, standing there
    Together but alone
    Standing up for each other
    By giving opposite approval
    Back to back, neck to neck
    Jealous to a fault,
    the mirrored image
    when not seen as seperate
    but instead is only viewed
    against the backdrop of
    its flip sided revolt
    As the opposite or balance
    Weighted down by something else, alone they risk being missed,
    Seen only as something pale
    to be feared in its weirdness
    Bland in its camoflageaue
    But when seen as a reaction
    A stance well to be held
    Then it must be something worth
    The mention, to be feared
    not to be overlooked or shunned
    Just because you don't
    measure up the same or comform
    and you are held as one mostly forgotten or misunderstood, ridiculed and rejected black
    labeled as an outsider,
    Then once labeled,
    you must be lonely,
    and star to despair,
    Or maybe you are
    something to be pitied
    if you arent to be feared.
    Being the different one most times
    Chosing to swim against stream,
    makes a very sharp chiasm
    A space scarred inbetween
    The difference between your life
    And those that you are not
    Can cause some to die young
    with a taste of povertys prisons
    All tied up in chains and knotted lined out in a story of stolen pens that are runnying dry on emptiness
    In blank words and poetic rhymes.
    Stories, songs, only to be silenced
    By their own authors words
    before dying alone on a blank page
    In a book never published
    Spelled incorrectly, chockful
    Of poor grammar with no editor
    Being asked to review proof
    Leaveing all that's unsaid
    To remain as unclear
    Unclear as its song falling
    Mute on deafened ears
    Then that song of no melody
    Hits notes that are sung
    In a harmony ad naseaum,
    Like a chant, or a witches spell
    That's better left unsung
    Forgotten, forbidden, foreboding
    Written in blood, grief and sorrow
    Penned in famous injustice
    Too shameful for admission
    To sanitys final appeal in court...
    It was thought up, or created
    By those dead day dreamers,
    that are far to inexperienced, to be cast only as foolish simpletons,
    impractical cases of king stupid
    considered as reigning holders
    Of any negative values
    of essential based wisdom
    or too far left off what's right
    In the eye of the beholder
    holding any image, or shred of evidence that a kernel of truth
    Is worth more when laying next to
    Its lying counterpart
    that is losing its faltering battle
    of lies with its slips of only
    Half thought out shreds of unproven pseudo evidence
    Culturally missappropriated
    To exploit the jurors insecurity in its own lack of tolerance.

  • the_village_poet 5w

    A Fairy Gets Her Wings

    Each blistering moment of pain,
    Every tear you caused
    To fall from my eyes,
    Each bruise that you tattooed
    On my body,
    Every attack on the sanctity
    Of my soul,
    Produced one slender gossamer thread.

    Through each nightmare that you created
    And every struggle
    Against you for my safety;
    I began to weave my collection
    Of gossamer threads
    Into a beautiful, shimmering set of wings,
    That I placed gently
    Onto my battered back.

    Finally I disowned you
    For all the evil deeds,
    The abuses that gave you
    Such pleasure to perform,
    It was then those threads
    Became a beautiful set of wings
    Lifting me upward away from you
    Now, I am free.

    Stacey Welsh

  • the_village_poet 5w

    Treading Water

    Another day I wait here; cower here
    Drowning in the insults of your reign.
    All you are is a narcissistic bully
    It's never your fault
    As you scream and inflict pain.

    No compliments, no empathy,
    No compassion for me.
    Life with you is a downer; so negative,
    Hateful and full of rage
    Is all you’ll ever be.

    I keep treading water against the current
    To stay afloat in your violent tide.
    But all I can do is float barely breathing
    Clinging to this nightmare
    I call my life.

    Screws in the doors, the windows,
    Styrofoam so I can’t see out; they can’t see in.
    Cut wires, broken phones, broken teeth
    Are the methods
    You use to win.

    Police, jail, parole, getting high
    Jealous and violent is all you’ll ever be.
    Now my absence
    Is the price you're paying
    For trying to drown me.

    Stacey Welsh

  • mfowlerpoetry 5w

    We're taking our power back
    We're reclaiming our lives
    We're going to start to live, not just living to survive
    We're no longer going to be victims
    We're going to be leaders
    We're choosing ourselves to believe in
    We're survivors, our own cheerleaders
    We're going to hold our heads high
    And make it through just fine
    Cuz I've got you and you've got I


  • lilacsandroses 5w

    Okay... this is a bit graphic it's about sexual assault... um... I've never written about my experience before, it's my first time... uh... I don't know why I'm doing this...
    #writing #poetry #pain #broken #survivor #sexualassultsurvivor #life #poetry #thoughts #diary

    Read More


    He looked at parts of me he shouldn't ,
    His hands - they felt my world,
    There wasn't penetration yet in those moments I felt
    The death of my inner girl
    He watched me while I soaped my body,
    I performed for him night without end ,
    I thought it made me beautiful...
    Yet all I feel is....

  • karamoonstone 5w

    Mutilated and mutated
    Starved souls
    Savagely eating animals
    While they devoured her soul
    They crave flesh and relief
    For their carnage
    They were raised in garbage
    With eyes like a glazed die fish
    They make a meal out of the girl
    She makes a fine dish
    No kin of the slaying
    Untainted meat for their buffeting
    She screams to the hills
    Her echoes all answered
    The hills only have eyes for the kills

    Challenge write a verse about a horror film
    I chose The Hills Have Eyes.. A grotesque movie. I really did not enjoy my experience in relation to this movie. I understand that it was not that persons fault. I am sorry for my part. I should have set better boundaries. I was more unaware then of how things affect me. Or how I let them affect me..?
    I feel good for writing something. Haven't written in a while. May all be vomit, still my journal.

    I do not like horror films because they awaken the horrors within

    Nor do I like flash backs because of the backlash giving my soul whiplash

    Well at least in a negative since i enjoy remembering good things and fanciful flash forwards

    #horror #survivor #hillshaveeyes @writersnetwork

    Read More

    Writing challenge horror movie

    Mutilated and mutated
    Starved souls
    Savagely eating animals
    While they devoured her soul
    They crave flesh and relief
    For their carnage
    They were raised in garbage
    With eyes like a glazed die fish
    They make a meal out of the girl
    She makes a fine dish
    No kin of the slaying
    Untainted meat for their buffeting
    She screams to the hills
    Her echoes all answered
    The hills only have eyes for the kills

  • the_village_poet 5w

    Hit The Bricks

    Falling hard backwards
    Against a cold brick wall.
    I crawl and I try to hide
    From another unforgiving assault.
    Grimacing as he inflicts the wounds
    Shaking as he rubs in the salt;
    Love like this isn’t built to last;
    The first blow ended it rather fast.

    Stacey Welsh

  • the_village_poet 5w


    I hear the train
    Feel it trembling
    Beneath my bed
    Just like when I was a little girl.

    He came in my room
    To wake me up
    And touch me
    Like I was his wife.

    I peed myself
    Pretended to be asleep
    Went into my dark closet
    To hide from the creep.

    I’d scream for my mom
    Try to wake her up
    To get him off of me
    But she never heard.

    I’m all grown up now
    He's out of my life
    And I am free
    I’ve taken flight.

    Stacey Welsh

  • the_village_poet 5w

    Gazing At The Scars

    I’m not a fragile, little doll
    That you can possess,
    So soft and supple,
    Just following along,
    As you lead me into your bowels;
    Walking backward,
    So I’m never out of your sight,
    Revealing a bloody, evil, jagged grin
    You mustered just for me.

    I am pierced
    On the inside and it hurts,
    But feels good to know
    I survived.
    I am tattooed,
    On my soul,
    On my heart,
    And they are images of my life,
    Silenced; without words.

    I am a survivor, a warrior, a woman
    Made of everything vile,
    Everything wrong,
    Misshapen not beautiful,
    Wincing at piercing pain,
    Gazing at the scars,
    Waiting to be cleansed,
    Still wishing upon the stars.

    Stacey Welsh

  • the_village_poet 5w

    I Give You My Scars

    My heart is shattered into pieces
    And your big hands hold quite a few.
    So please cut your hands on them forever;
    Because I’m giving them to you.

    They are the mishaped pieces cut away by you;
    The shards that will never be the same.
    With shiny jagged bits reflecting our memories
    And the bloody ones dripping with my pain.

    Some are the ones you methodically bruised
    And some you violently decorated with scars
    These are the pieces that will never again fit
    Back into the rest of my broken heart.

    Stacey Welsh

  • the_village_poet 5w

    No Vacancy

    I wear these scars from you…
    On my body I see them outside and within
    And it makes my heart hurt remembering
    Each scar being etched under and on my skin.

    Yet, you are not a surgeon
    Or an artist of tattoos.
    You are not a man of kindness
    Anger and rage are what you use.

    You are not my ruler or my warden
    Just because you know how to shove.
    You are nothing more than misery
    Full of hate without room for love.

    Stacey Welsh