Young Writers Society

Every desire
It was never an addiction.
It was only a desire to remove
Emptiness.
It was only a desire to forget.
It was only a desire to heal,
Turned to an inability to move forward.

I grew up
When i stopped wanting to be older.
And i died
Every time i remembered the girl i used to be.

It was only my mothers blood on the carpet,
Because i had already died, years ago.
She never rocked me as a baby,
Instead she left me to explore the limits
And creativity
Of my own mind.
How far was i willing to go
To feel like someone loved me?
As i got older, the idea of who loved me diminished
And rather, it was the idea of how much i felt wanted.
I turned to anyone who was willing to
Spare some change, spare some time,
Spare some touch,
Spare an ounce of love.
I grew, like the raspberry bushes and banana trees
In my grandparents yard.
And when their grey hairs spread over
Their entire scalps,
I also felt old, on the inside.
I had been told that i was mature
For my entire life.
But the little girl who hated hugs,
Grew into a woman too afraid to say no
And too desperate to admit
That i would say yes to anyone
Who tried to love me.
So really, i was alive but not living.
My blood had already been spilled
And i had already atoned for my own sins,
As a babe.
It was only my mothers blood on the carpet.
Only hers, and never mind.

Today I realized that you
Have spent thousands of dollars,
To make me feel safe.
My entire childhood, I felt unsafe with you.
And so, today, I finally realized,
You are trying to rescue the little girl you never saved.
You are trying to show me that you are changed.
You are trying to make me forget, or move on,
Or understand, that the monster in my closet is finally dead.

And so here i am,
With everything you have ever given me.
And i still feel broken, because every cent you have
Is not of equal worth of the fragments of my
Shattered, aching, little lonely heart
That you crushed with your own hands.

I feel like i am saying hello to the beginning of my life.
Ill be nineteen in four days and i am still scared of the dark
Every single night, because all the things i cannot see
Remind me of all the things
I cannot control.
And for my entire life,
That was
You.

And i love you
So much that it hurts.
But i also remember that past
And that is a different type of hurt.
Its a hurt that lasts forever.
While love only lasts until i forget you.

What i want to say, is that
I forgive you.
I forgive every unforgivable person you were
And every unlovable person who you screamed at me
For not loving.
My heart has been mended,
Only to be broken a thousand times again.
But maybe that is life.
And maybe thats what makes being alive
A journey that is worth living.
I will never be a stereotype
Because of the hell you put me though
And the woman your trauma has allowed me to become.
What i really want to say,
Is thank you for hurting me, i guess.

All i want, is to be a writer.
I want to write words that heal pains
That are labelled as eternal.
I want to foster emotions, deep in my heart,
Which inspire me to keep going.
Every page i turn is a heartbeat
That is keeping me alive.
And every poem i finish
Is a breath of air to my lungs.
All i want is to be a writer.
All i want is freedom to speak the words
I am too afraid to speak.
Because my words always fall short,
Unless its poetry.