break. im not allowed to break. because im suppose to be strong. because of what i went through. i see all these girls that have been through it and they came out so strong.. and i still am hurting from it. and im hurting because i self loath and i blame myself and im weak... im not allowed to be weak. im suppose to be strong. be strong for you, my mom, my whole family, myself... im suppose to be strong. and im not.. im so weak. so damn weak. i don't like crying. i don't like sleeping all the time. I hate sleeping, but when i try to sleep i cannot sleep... leaving me sleep deprived; making me weaker. and when i'm weak i get stressed which makes me angry which makes me cry which makes me vulnerable which makes makes me...

weak.

but i broke. i broke yesterday. today. tomorrow. everyday...

i will continue to break.

only, and only because i know he will glue me back together.

The nightmares are back.

But this time, I do not think they are going away. If anything they are getting stronger.

I can smell the cigar smoke, i can hear his laughter from behind me.

He is the wolf when i write about him, the wolf to sound as story book as possible. The wold because i want to believe it was all a make up story, some sick.. horrific, folk take that has never left my mind.

Every time i blink he is standing there under my fingers nails.

Every time i blink i see him hovering over me.

I punch and kick at him begging for someone to help me, Begging for someone to hear me.

He wont get off.

He wont get off.

im begging. screaming. scratching.

The wolf has me under his claws and stuck in between his teeth.

He was me in his trap.

I run away as fast as i can.

I dont want him to hurt me again.

Too bad the wolf is fast.

HELP.

It was only a dream.

Right?

I blink again, he is back.

The big bad wolf is here to blow my happiness down.

blow my relationship down.

Blow my life down.

But this time,

he isnt leaving.

One.

He's always my number one.

I'm not even..

Ten.

He was always cliche, some times more than usual.

This time he brushed a strand of hair behind my hear and whispered with such a husky almost... chilling tone, "You're so beautiful."

But his cliche ways didn't stop him from him shoving his big fat cock deep inside of me.

Pumping in and out of my walls, filling up the tight space, slipping through me, soaked in my sweet... vanilla, juices.

He was the beautiful one.

There were times where he would take his time, other times he wouldn't dare slow down.

With his rough, manly hands wrapped around my tiny little throat, he squeezed so tightly. Again with the chilling whisper, "You're so beautiful."

His voice sent more fluids throughout my body and made them leak onto my inner thighs.

He is so beautiful.

So sexy.

My Daddy, if you will.

I am trapped in a beautiful world of DDLG and i couldn't ever ask for a better lifestyle.

I love being his little five year old.

No, not pedophilia. Not, molestation.

A break from the adult world to get in tact with the childhood i never got.

But he never fails to make me feel like a sexy five year old.

Now, don't you dare kink shame.

But, he, is so beautiful.

He.

{eh. you guys, im not a fan of this "slam" poem. but i am putting it out into the world any ways. it doesn't make much sense. please forgive my mediocre writing skills. but kill me, im here to learn.}

Ill seeping. Thick. Lacking in beauty.

Me.

I hate myself.

No, im not being "Lol #relatable" and most definitely not trying to be on your ever lasting lists of "me too".

I actually and suffering from a painful, true self-loathing experience.

I am completely lost and I dont know ehat to do now. I need to let out anger or frustration or annoyance or what ever the FUCK this "emotion" is.

I try to find different apartments, with different furniture, different rooms, different drinks, different drugs. Different ANYTHING to get away from this feeling.

This feeling is seven feet and nine inches tall, a deep gray color with a static rim around its perimeter.

it is a he.

a him/ not just an it. but a HE.

I can feel his hot breath on my neck when he creeps up behind me.

heavy breathing.

every inhale he takes, he is stealing an exhale of mine.

soon enough, there is not enough oxygen for the both of us and he takes up every inch of it.

He has a smile made of barbed-wire. not meant to keep people out, but to keep people it.

We grow up with parents LYING TO US. Telling this monster doesn't exist. They looked under our beds and in our closets. They have looked him in the eyes and continued to tell us he does not exist.

little did they know.

this monster has always been inside of us.

It just takes the correct bait to drag him out.

Looks like I was the perfect pick.

Maybe I'm not happy, because i never get any damn sleep. I am afraid to sleep, afraid to eat, afraid to sleep afraid to sleep afraid to...

Because I'll miss my love too much.

And sometimes I don't get to dream about him.

Sometimes... It's about that fucking man that RAPED me. Walking around in my dream bubble as if he owns it.

HE DOESN'T.

He doesn't... Maybe he does.

The man who raped me and is locked away in a cell somewhere and is still strong enough to chain me down to depression and tie me up to anxiety and force PTSD down my throat and to steal my happiness.

Why is that man so damn strong.

why.

Possibly I did something wrong.

Pease don't hit me, please i wont eat again. I'm sorry! I thought i was allowed to eat tonight!

IM SORRY SIR IM SORRY SIR IM SORRY SIR.. IM SOR-

PLEASE DON'T HIT ME..

Please don't punish me.

PLEASE! Do not force that thing into my innocence.

I'm sorry my night gown was too short.

I'm sorry the way i played with my food was too sexy.

please don't hit me..

please.

He even haunts me while im awake.

Stop.

STOP!

GO AWAY.

You cant hurt me.

you cant hurt me.

you cant hurt me.

YOU'RE HURTING ME!!

Stop!!

Stop.

I just want to sleep.

please.

Let me be..

Please.

the world.

is a scary place.

full of trucks and trains and people and airplanes and people and criminals and people and strangers and people and people that are criminals and strange people and...

sometimes !

you need to talk to these people.

communicate.

there is a whole world out there full of accecsabitities in some multiple of footsteps and for some reason i cant make it out of my front door.

thats what anxiety does.

as much as i hate talking i cant stand being silent.

too bad in this country the second you SPEAK UP you are told to SHUT UP.

so sad that the land of the "free" isnt so free after all.

they say we have abolished slavery, but what they dont tell you is.. we are blinded.

not only blinded to what the government is keeping from us.. but blinded from ourselves.

i am living with anxiety and there is no other way to put it.

IM TERRIFIED.

of everything.

and the fact that i'm living in a place that sees SUICIDE as a fashion statement isnt so comforting.

murder and riots are now okay. PEOPLE ARE DYING.

the white cop shot the black kid and you may get OFFENDED by this but this is WRONG.

it's all WRONG.

someone needed to say it.

they wonder why im so scared.

why im so anxious.

anxiety..

is painful.

It feels like.. there is a monster inside of your chest.

monsters inc is built inside of my heart and every single day the scares go up.

one of the monsters escaped from my heart and is now trying to escape it's way through my esophagus with its long claws and it scaled skin is getting lodged inside my windpipe and i cant breath without being reminded of its presence.

i wont let it escape. i wont.

so it finds his way out through chewed finger nails and and worried glances because i think everyone can see me eating the inside of my cheeks. biting on my bottom lips and toying with my sleeves.

im. ANXIOUS.

a man with qualifications of ONLY being a host of a reality tv show is going to be our president and all people can focus on is how the white cop shot the black kid?

the white cop shot the black kid.

and we have to worry about who are we going to offended next because not everyone has the popular opinion.

i dont want to be scared anymore..

but how can i not.

when.. if i post a picture of myself on the internet, someone may comment:

youre too skinny.

youre too fat.

youre too pretty.

youre too ugly.

why does someone have to be TOO much of anything.

why do they HAVE to BE "something"

why dont you say they are "someone"

a person is nothing other than a person.

im not saying that if you "dont have anything nice to say, dont say anything at all."

because that QUOTATION IS THE EXACT FLAW WITH THIS NATION.

We are told to speak up but as soon as we speak up we are told to shut up.

told to shut up.

how dare you.. be proud of such a nation.

you cant tell me that i shouldn't be "anxious" that "anxiety" is "only in my head"

i cant be the only one that sees this..

im not the only one with white noise blaring in between my ears and i KNOW i an not the only one that is drowning in the static and suffocating under the water you call "pressure" im not the only one screaming for help but nobody can here me simply because...

i was told to shut up.