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.

A bridal shower in the red room

A bride in white

With the lace trim

And satin slippers, whispers

Cautious as the groom strolls

For she knows that he lies

But she hides

And she cries

And she bides her time

Trying to get it just right

Potent is the dish

In which revenge sits

But she wishes

Oh she wishes

That it wouldn’t end like this

But fate has other plans

As the grooms men stroll

Taking tallies of the delicious whims

And dances of the girls last night

Soaking up the boose

And the drugs too

Groom lost his hand

But found it again

At least

That is how the story goes

told to the waiting bridesmaid

On the front page of the news stand

But she of course didn’t listen

Wouldn’t wish this in any man

Or women, for that matter

And yet we sit in the closet

Bride holding the blade in hand

While the groom lays on the ground

Retelling the story from the news stand

As the braidmaids listen

and the grooms men walk

Only to sit by because lies aren’t enough

So the groom goes to reach

Guess he found his hand agian

But oh wait…

It’s gone!

After Motherhood

I once cursed a friend for not caring. She laid her hand on my growing belly and told me I was lying about the pain. Stretch marked marred my flesh and yet she begged me to cry. Said it would help if I just downplayed my emotions.

Feelings hurt the baby you see.

Every laugh

Every cry

The baby feels it.

She felt that I was lying about the pain. Said it would go away as she stroked my aching breast. The one dripping milk upon her dust filled carpet. Tugging away only brought her closer. Her words like ember upon my burning flesh.

A child lay dying inside of me and yet she said it was worth it.

I should be happy with the gift given to me. The chance to explore feelings once more. My happiness at being with child destroyed its very soul.

There should be no pain, at least that is what she is telling me.

Running her hand along my slit as I force the heart from my body. Grey tones and broken bones but I should feel no pain. It isn’t worth it, she said, it’s all a lie.

I cursed a friend for not caring. For saying that my pain was fake. She told me I was lying as I laid my heart to rest. But I guess the curse was worth it.

Search and Find

What was that feeling I just felt?

The one that made my body shake.

The one that made question fate?

What is it called

When my mind starts to fall

And my heart begins to beat

What is this emotion that makes it hard for me,

To stand on my own two feet?

I can’t seem to think

I can’t seem to find

The answer I know hides so very deep inside

What is this emotion called

When all the world begins to fade

When your very embrace

Makes me feel so whole

What is it called

And why can’t I remember it

Feels like forever since I last had a name for it

When was the last time I felt so alive?

When was the last time I felt I could survive.

In your warm arms I am at home

What is the word to describe  this so.

A/N there ya go. I tried to find the words and I still can’t seem to get it right. This is as close as I am going to get to what I felt when I first met ya.

I was lonely and needed a friend and you were there for me. It made me so happy… it still makes me so happy that I have you in my life. I thank the higher beings everyday for ya. Thank you so very much for all you do and put up with.

Killer Instinct: Story Of A Cliche Teen

Jasper dreams rasping behind closed doors

Pretty boys fall in love with unexpected girls

Trouble happens and all soon ignored

Lies get told and told and told some more

Hidden behind a well tamed fist

Tears fall down though more lies about not being pissed

Days flow by and by and by

Truths are told beneath a starry sky

Romance happens to be forgotten again

Lies prevail because that is the truth that sells

Corruption of a good friend is expected now

Someome dies and we crawl towards an end

Some kisses shared a please don’t tell

But of course to be discovered

‘THAT PERSON IS YOUR LOVER’

Kept away to be safe only released because of plot

Devices deceived by a sellout plot

More drama and drama and drama

But then end draws near

Hopeless life is resuced despite our cries

Please just let the stupid bitch die!

What was once ignored, a romance, is now happening before our eyes

Suddenly and suddenly and suddenly see

The heroine we hate (or love) starts to fade

The Hero we crave (or whom disgust) doomed to save

Writes the end but to be continued on another day

 

 

What a stupid teen cliche.

K

Petty Poet dialogue 

Explain in detail who I am ^-^ 

A petty poet

CW: Some people take job they don’t really want. They do it for the happiness of others. Sometimes these jobs cause them trouble. They suffer and are judged for their deeds while others are still seen in a graceful light. It isn’t fair. It is often hard to see if it is even worth it. 

Would you die for your child? I know I would. I would sell my very soul if it meant her happiness. She doesn’t seen to see the darkness I wade through for her. All she needs to do is enjoy her life. So many people hold jobs that bring them pain. 

Some people are forced to sell their very souls, their bodies even. Wouls you be willing to risk it all for your child? I know I would. 

Shame me more

Was once a petty little whore

Shoved by unholy hands

Fighting for remembrance 

Unvield face yet revealed lust

Shame me more

Always such a petty little whore

Filled with distrust

Take me to a place I can’t see

Hurt me until you’ve had your fill

Judge me more

Judge me still

Shame on me for trying to feel

Tried to stop but small hands grasp

Beg for more so it must last

Shame on me

For trying to surivive

Unholy hands fuck me through the night

Little smiling faces

One saving grace

Night filled with bloody passion 

So they may stay that way. 

Update: Still working on some stuff. Hopeing to finish my story soon. Well it will be a few short stories and a bunch of poems. I have an idea of what it will be about but right now I am just writing random stuff.

 I think I want to write about mental illness but abuse has been in my lately. I want to be the voice for those who have been told to shut up.