The most random one-shits

random poems ive made

TW; self harm mentions, abuse, acts of violence, murder, etc
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POEM ONE
the cold feeling on my arm start to hurt. like a little thump or something i don't know how to explain it. my mum walks in, 'get out of my room' i hiss in an upset tone. she apologises and takes one of my two water bottles. i feel angry. 'put it back.' i yell, upset that she even dares come into my room. i had taken my anxiety meds before this but they don't seem to help. the feeling of cutting starts to overwhelm me. i decided to write to my friends, thinking that would help. when my sister and mother were in that little argument, i looked in the mirror as we were in the bathroom. i didn't see myself 'she's like E, she doesn't like being touched' i love being touched. it doesn't feel bad, it actually feels good. i look down at the floor and see my breasts. they're bigger than i thought. i look back at the mirror and see a teenager. not a child. the sudden realisation of everything around me hits like a brick. though i wish it was a brick. my mum asked about my relapsing today, my sister takes out aloe vera gel and puts it on my cuts. i lied and said i didn't cut and just hit. i did cut. as i'm writing this i hear Eminem playing in the kitchen. my mum was in there. she only listened to him when she was upset. so much has happened and i just feel... pissed.
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POEM TWO
i look at him in his eyes, all the memories i've spent with him. all the times we had fun, all the times when we laughed, when we talked, when we spent time together. i don't have tears in my eyes. i just stare at him through the screen, we were on Skype. he couldn't come over here. he didn't know where i lived. and i couldn't come over to him, i didn't want to. 'it was your mum, she was the one who hurt you.' he said, i don't react. i'm shocked but i can't react. all the nights i've spent crying over him. and he had the audacity to say that it was her fault. she did nothing wrong. she was a good mother. all the times we spent together, lies. the laughs. lies. the jokes. lies. the fun. lie. he was manipulating me, to make me like him. i fucking hate him. and i never wanna call him my father. because he might be related to me. but he's not family.
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POEM THREE
alive and dead, it's never really said. questions asked but never answered. this isn't meant to rhyme, we'll just have to trust time. we will never know for certain what happens after death. we can ask, but they don't answer. they say they know everything and can answer anything. but they don't answer the questions, not the ones they don't want to. 'why are some people's torture other people's pleasure?' answer me. 'why do people view and feel thing differently if everything's in the same way?' answer me. 'why don't you answer me?' answer me. 'why don't you love me?' answer me. 'why do you hurt me?' answer me. 'why don't you fill me up with warmth, why is the only touch you give me painful.' answer me. i look down at him. he said he could always answer my questions, all my questions. why won't he answer these? why is he quiet? i did what he did to her to him. i took the knife. i put it in his throat. why could she answer my questions after it but he can't? he's staring at me. he is awake. 'help...' he groaned. i look over at her. she's breathing but not as slow as him. 'no, answer me.' he should've answered me. instead of killing whoever disagreed with him.
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POEM FOUR
'go to sleep, you won't get any better from staying up late.' blah, blah, blah. you're the one smoking cigarettes. you keep coming at me with my ~~self harm~~ but you also SH. i don't have kids. 'do you *want* to get better?' what fucking question is that?! of course i do!! but you're the one not letting me go to therapy!! i might be autistic, but i don't need all these remedies or help. i can live on my own. we both need help. but i'm not the one who says 'oh, i'm just going to harm myself! 😊☺️' i keep it secret. you could've gone to therapy. but you became a cigarette mum.
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that's all!! ty 4 reading ❤️💕