Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login

Similar Deviations
Daddy, please don't touch me.
It doesn't feel good.
It makes me feel..

Daddy, please don't hit me.
I didn't mean to disappoint you.
When you hit me, it makes me feel...

Daddy, please don't hurt her.
Mommy didn't do anything.
When you hit her, it makes me feel..

Daddy, please don't say you love me.
I know you're lying.
When you say you still want me, it makes me feel...

Daddy, please stop screaming at her.
You already killed her.
When you scream at her, it makes me feel..

Daddy, stay there.
Let me sink the knife into your throat.
When you bleed, it makes me feel..

Daddy, aren't you happy now?
As you lie there, lifeless.
I'm only following your footsteps.
This makes me feel...

Daddy, please listen.
I know you can't hear me, but...
I still love you.

The same way you always loved me.

And it makes me feel...

Good, Daddy.
It makes me feel..
I don't really like this one. But I decided to post it since it's one of my poems that ISN'T about labels or stereotypes =P
Comments and critiques?
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

The sun melted into the glamorous sky
The moon stood there, hidden by sweet lullabies.

But mommy was crying, her day had been hard
The tears in her eyes twinkled just like the stars.

Her face wasn't happy like it should have been
And though she was saddened, she forcefully grinned.

I wanted to see Mommy smile through it all...
I painted a picture on her bedroom walls.

I told her to look, just to come in and see
But Mommy was angry... she wasn't happy.

She threw me down hard on the cold wooden floor
Then picked me up, slamming my head on the door.

She yelled and she screamed, then she hit me once more
She slapped me till I couldn't see anymore.

My heart then stopped beating, my laugh went unheard
Then Mommy got up without saying a word.

She looked at the walls splattered with my young blood
Then fell to the ground in her tears with a thud.

She looked at my face, then she looked all around
Then wrote on the walls with the first thing she found.

Then, after she finished, she wanted self harm....
She sat on the ground, putting me in her arms.

She reached for the knife she had placed on her bed
Then stabbed her own body... she cried as she bled.

The words on the wall echoed throughout the room...
"I love you so much, Mommy... get better soon!"
An older poem that i wrote :)
Comments and critiques? <3
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

The face at the door is a demon, a god
He smiles through stitches, his stare rather odd
The face at the door is a cruel, silent being
Yet, people are calm, and the children aren't fleeing
Quiet yourself, for you're the only one
Crying for help at the point of a gun
Learn how to fly, rather, learn how to fall,
The face at the door... well... there's no face at all.
About a hallucination I had.
Thanks for reading... comments and critiques? <3
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

They're listening.
Look behind you.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
In again.
"Are you okay?"
I'm dying.
"I'm fine."

Shapes, forms, bodies, animals, plants
Shifting, moving, being
"What's wrong with you?"

You're a freak.
No one wants you.
You should kill yourself, let them out of their misery
Do it
Or we'll do the job for you.

"You're crazy."
I know.
"They're fake, you know."
No they're not.
"What are you doing?"
I'm shaking.
I'm dying.
This is how I live.

Save me
Save me, from the monsters, the shadows
Save me

"What can I do?"
You can stop.
You can stop being ignorant

<3 i'm so sorry if it's inaccurate.. I really do apologize...
please comment and critique! :)
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

Who are you?
Where are you?
What... are you?

The blinding white walls
Closing in on you
Trapping you
Drowning you.

Who are you?

Certainly not
Certainly not that
happy little girl
jumping through fairy tales
as a sunset paints the silver sky.

Where are you?
Certainly not
Definitely not where
you'd want to be.

What are you?
Certainly not
Obviously not

Blood, scars, wounds.

All you see are shadows
In a room of white walls...
inspired by [link]
mine is not exactly an original version of it, but it's something. :)

comments and critiques?
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

As I sit here cradling the blade in my hands
Treasuring the moments I wish that I had
I can't stop growing more lost and confused
I can't stop thinking... am I good enough for you?

As I sit here, wrapping the rope around my neck
No one will understand a meaning so complex
I simply can't stop thinking about it somehow
Thinking, am I good enough for you now?

As I sit here, pulling the trigger on the gun
I think, maybe I was never meant for "the one"...
And ...
goes the bullet.
For when I think it through...
I really won't ever be good enough for you.
<3 Just a thought, just some words.
Comments Critiques? :)
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

Slide the blade across your wrist.
"Doesn't it hurt?"
I can't feel anything.
"A little."

Punch your own stomach.
Does it hurt yet?
Keep going.
"Why do you do that?"
The pain makes me feel alive.
"I don't know."

Keep staring.
"What's wrong with you?"
I'm dead inside.

"Emotional freak."
I'm just depressed.

Stare at your arms.
Your stomach.
Your waist.
Your thighs.
"What are you doing?"
I'm ugly.
"Never mind."

"Attention seeker."
I just have low self esteem.
"I'm sorry."


"Scene girl."

I'm just human.

I'm just me.
reposting an old poem of mine. posted it a while back and decided to do it again, this time with over 100 more watchers. :)
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

My legs are covered in bruises
And I have a scar by my left eye.
I’m not allowed to smile, though
And I’m not allowed to cry.

I think my right arm’s broken
But shh, don’t tell my dad.
He doesn’t like to worry bout me
When he’s already mad.

I have a burn on my left wrist
From when he pushed my arm
Against the stove, the hot, hot stove
And did a bit of harm.

I have a bear, a teddy bear.
He doesn’t have a name.
He makes me better every time
I’m feeling hurt and shame.

Today, my dad came home kind of late
A beer still in his hand.
I closed my eyes and waited.
He screamed, he shouted, and…

Well, my name is Mary Starr
And this is how I died.
But daddy always loved me.
And daddy always lied.
Speaks for itself.
Just a thought in my head, thought I'd write it down...
Comments? Critiques? All are appreciated :)

Facebook !! : [link]
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

"I'm fine" is a dirty lie.

The truth is that I want to die.


"I'm tired" is not even done.

It really means "I'm tired of being no one"


"I'm better" is but a curse.

The truth is that I've never been worse


"I'm just cold" is what I say

so my sleeves can hide my scars away.


"I already ate" is said with a frown.

I starve to see the numbers on the scale go down.


"I'm okay" is probably the worst.

It really means I'm about to burst.


All these things are lies to me.

But you take this as the truth because what else would I be?



Well... this is another poem for my feels about depression, self harm, etc. I know that there are many poems and drawings on DA to support people with depression and bring awareness, and mine will not help, but i just feel so strongly about it since ive had a friend confess his depression to me. so heres another one :) to all those peopel struggling out there, you are not alone and i think your awesome <3
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

I used to think make up
Made people ugly.
Now I think I'm ugly without it.

I used to think people
Always loved me.
Now I think everyone hates me.

I used to think everybody
Was my best friend.
Now I think no one truly is.

I used to think
Boys were icky!
Now I wish I had one.

What happened to being
I don't like the ending :iconblahplz:

NOOO. :iconomg--plz:

Okay please comment and stuff! <3
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.