I used to write a lot of poems, I found this one today as I was going through all my old stuff. ⚠ trigger warning for…

I used to write a lot of poems, I found this one today as I was going through all my old stuff.

⚠️trigger warning for some maybe?⚠️

I've come along in life way since this. I've never shared anything but I feel like I want to. Here we go!

"You are really a good example of a Christian woman" but your talk is intensified with complete sarcasm...

The next sentence you say to me will be packed with racism..

So much is inside me, I want to get them out!

But unfortunately they are much greater than that which would take a shout.

I used to paint my skin with a silver brush,

The only paint would come would be red with a gush.

Each stroke of my hand would bring a bit of relief,

From the pain, from the hurt, the sadness and grief .

This silver brush made my deadness go away,

But the brush strokes and remnants from this awful art were here to stay.

I've stopped, though, you may ask me why?

Because it's not fair for one person to have to much control over my life.

BecUse of you I started; your mocking and insults,

Your laughing and pushing and hands to my throat.

You made me start, it was your hand that caused it,

The problem is, your hand never wanted to stop it.

You expect me to do it, infact you encouraged me,

You even told me to kill myself, and for a long time I would agree.

You have no idea how many times I've tied a noose,

How many times I've been driving and wanted to let the car go loose.

You have no idea how many times I've held a knife to my arm...

To my throat, to my stomach and to my heart.

I thought maybe, just maybe this would get your attention,

I've been telling you to stop but you kept going without apprehension.

I sat there and sobbed, inside of a closet, hidden away,

But then I sat up and realized this game that you play.

You don't see how you hurt me, in fact you just mock it all.

You make me feel broken, unwanted and small,

By painting this picture of sadness on my skin,

It has turned my escape into your win.

I refuse , yes I do, to let you have that praise,

Your proud when I do it, it lets you justify your ways.

So I have stopped, i will not do it anymore.

So that's at least 1 point for me, god knows you are keeping score.