Please don’t sue me

I have read a lot about domestic violence. In some cases I find myself blaming the victim and in others I can sympathize with them. I believe it is only human to lean one way or the other with hearing of such terrible things. Yet there is one thing that pisses me off. The idea that men can not be victims of abuse. Or if they are it is only those in same-sex relationships. This is because time and time again people respond to cases with a male victim that he is just weak. Men should be able to stand up to women. Cases where men do not mean that they are weak and deserve it. So what if they got raped, they should enjoy the free sex.

Right?

It is bothersome really…no that is not the correct word. I feel a much stronger emotion when faced with the people who believe in those things. Yes, male victims are statistically lower but they are still important. Men should be allowed to come forward without being ridiculed and hated…or envied. What is wrong with people that they envy such an encounter???

I have read a lot about domestic violence. I am human in the way I judge the situation. But no matter the reason I believe that everyone has the right to justice. Everyone has a right to be heard. Everyone has a right to seek freedom without…judgement.

Thanks for coming.

Side note: Stop shitting on LGBT couples people. Seriously I have read a crappy ton of books lately and why is it that every book I have read someone is leaving an abusive relationship. Find another reason to make people break up LGBT authors. Seriously. Can’t we have them break up over something mundane like not being in love anymore. Or just like idk maybe one of them had to move away for a job. Or hell kill one of them. In the last 30 books I have read with a romantic theme pretty much 70% of them had something to do with someone leaving an abusive relationship. Granted I am reading a series where everyone and they momma got a sob story but come on!! I read a lot about domestic violence, from real life stories to fictional ones. Sob stories are kind of my thing if you haven’t been able to tell.

Go ahead and sue me

I think it sounds beautiful, the screaming. I want you to keep begging. Even the score between husband and whore. Come! Let me make a man out of you. One all the little boys and little girls can look up to. Scream a bit louder so the neighbors can hear. Fight a bit faster so they can know you feel fear. Because I want to make a man out of you. Society may judge me but they will never stand. You, a pathetic creature, have proven yourself a half man. So yes, let me hear you. Let me feast on your tears. No one will help you because no one else cares.

I called myself an assassin

I wanted you to fight for me…but I can see that I will never be enough. Between the blood and the lust there is a gun just out of reach. I thought that you would need me yet here you are. Lying at my feet with wounds I don’t think will ever heal. I am almost certain that this isn’t even real but I see it. I feel and still breath and can smell the fact that I am not…I am not enough. I was never meant to be. I figured you would fight for me. Figured you would try just a little more. But between the blood and the lust I think I can see. I think I can truly see just how much of it wasn’t meant to be.

A/N a little dirty ditty for the ladies. Honestly this makes no sense. I may edit it soon.

Apologies

“I’m sorry” but I do not think she can hear me. Wishful thinking on my part. That this simple taunt could bring her back to me.

“I am sorry’

What a lie. I know that is not how I feel but try as I might, she still will not open her eyes.

I question my motives as I lay a kiss on her lips. Another on her cheek as I think of my reasoning. Before long her face is covered with my unknowing. As if the space on her face will give me all my answers.

“I am so sorry” I lie again as tears burst forth from my throat and I lay a hand on her chest. Another comes to take my place as I slowly walk away.

“I am sorry”

“So sorry”

I mean it.

My halloween celebration

It is not a voice…more of a feeling. A tiny tinge in the back of my head. One that says I am better off dead. One that forces my attention to a blade. I bet it would be heavenly if I gave in. There is no voice. Nor any figure standing over me. It is more of a feeling that I need to bleed. It touches me with such gentle wishes. Catches my attention on some swaying bridges. Just a skip and a jump and it would be over with…done. This voice, no, this feeling, will have won… I think it would be better if it had won.

Another Update cause I can

Welcome to the musing of an extremely petty poet.

I have had a lot of new followers and am actually starting to get a lot of repeats as well. Still not a lot of comments but I am ok with that. Just wanted to let everyone know, if you all haven’t noticed already, I am a terrible speller. And *spoiler alert* my grammar is even worse. So feel free to judge to your hearts content lol. I have had some people tell me that it is ok but it is something I struggle with and want to work on. I do not do it before I post my work but when I go back I like to edit a few things here and there. Change up a line or two to help it flow better. But if you see some mistake that doesn’t look intentional just comment and let me know. I will not get upset…ok I will get upset if said person only commenter just to tell me what I am doing wrong.

I am a single mom who struggles with BPD. I made this blog first to hone my writing skills but later on I wanted to show what it was like to live with a mental disorder. My poems and little story tell about my life and that of my daughter. Sometimes I can be angry, happy, sad, depression, excited and even, you guessed it, petty. I enjoy each and every person who takes the time to like and read my work. There is not a lot of information out there that paints people with BPD in a neutral light. Most information seeks to vilify us. Well I am here to tell ya that we are just as human as you are. We make mistakes and successes. My poems go a long way into proving that. Because some of my pieces are downright holy while others sound like the musing of a very edgy teen going through puberty. You get no in between with me really 🤣.

So I thank you and say welcome to all the new faces. I am sorry for the mess and look forward to learning from you all.

A Brown Girl with a White Man’s Name

“Negative” I wonder outloud to a foreign crowd of my forgotten brethren
They speak some vows and turn my way
Noticing the privilege I proclaim
The twist of my hips
The turn of my lips
The graceless way I speak out of turn
I know that I am not one of them
With my too brown skin and my too black hair
Kinked up readily to face the wind
“Negative” I proclaim with a sneer
For deep down inside
I know that I am not welcomed here
But I hide it with a haughty stance
One hand on my lip and the other on my chest
My blood was never going to be enough
My twisted tongue can’t speak those vows
Spoken outloud by a foreign crowd
But I am going to go on pretending
That my black will matter here