Rebel Poetry
- LECTURAS 141
- Votos 14
- Partes 11
Continúa9m
Última publicación mar, ago 4, 2020
There is pain in this world, especially when you are a woman, lesbian, and radical feminist. When you are hiding in plain site, in the middle of a proper Christian church situated in a small, conservative town, there are masks you have to wear that scald your skin. These are my poems on the subject. They tell my struggles, and I hope other girls like me can find themselves in these words.
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𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐀 [𝐆𝐗𝐆]
❝𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆. 𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑰 𝒌𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒕 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆.❞ __________________ Esmeralda doesn't just steal your freedom . She takes your breath, your mind...𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴. Ashleen knows she should hate her. But what's the fun in that?
The Black Rose
If you're reading this, it probably means I've died, or gone completely mental and unceremoniously waged war against the shadows that created me. Whatever the reason, I hope you keep reading. I hope my words resonate as truth, that my story, no matter how insane it sounds, exposes the darkest corners of our world. I did all of these things, I killed all of those people, partly because I wanted to, and partly because I felt as if I had no choice. I am no saint. I know what my file says about me, that I'm a narcissistic, highly manipulative sociopath, a genius, incapable of love or empathy, incapable of following the rules, a villain, menace, a monster. While I wish I could say this was all false, it isn't. My name was Danielle Renee Watson. I was born on July 14th 1993 in the small southern town of Kinston, NC. I was raised by my parents Richard and Angela Watson. On May 23rd, 2015, I died in a fatal car crash, my body burned beyond recognition. On that same day, I became Rose Forrester, a genetically modified, highly elusive assassin, created by The Shadow operation. This is my story.Concluida
The Ocean's Lover
My father was a fisherman. My mother was a whore. I was a product of my environment. I grew up in a small town, along the seaside. Everyone knew everyone, and nothing was ever private. It was like having one big, nosy family. So when I nearly drowned and was saved by not one, but three, mysterious women, you can imagine that it was the talk of the town. Father claims that they were mermaids. I claim that he's a mad man. On an unrelated note, three beautiful women just moved into town...
My: Poems, Stories, & Essays On Womanhood, Femininity, & Erotica
Poems, Stories, & Essays On Womanhood, Femininity, & Erotica. This mostly autobiographical work describes many of my experiences, thoughts, and ideas through several media. There's poems describing my feelings and thoughts I want to share with moments of humor included. My stories are about things that's happened in my life that I wanted to tell. Some are silly while others are important to better understand me. There's articles and short essays about my thoughts, ideas, and beliefs surrounding womanhood and my place in the world. My commentaries include notes on these works and gives additional insight on both my mind and my heart. This work is listed as mature and contains materials not suitable for people under 18.
𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝑳𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉 (𝟏𝟖+)
"𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐢 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡" 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐲𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐢. 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.
Live, love, laugh and die. This is just life! (Songs and poems from the heart)
These poems that i have wrote mainly come from my depressive side or my romantic side. They all express who i am and what my life is like. I write these poems and share them with you because i hop that they will help you get through difficult situations about love, self-harm or suicide. I hope you all like these poems. I agree that they are not for everybody but i have wrote themto help you and me!!Concluida
Pyrophobia
A rather tragic, depressing existence is what Cate has. Church was everything. Religion was everything. At least, that was what she once believed. The struggle for mental and physical freedom is daunting, as is the acknowledgment of the need for them. Cate's trauma is brought to light through a story that spans a total of 7 hours of one day in her life through present occurrences, internal monologue, and flashbacks. (Currently undergoing first editing).Concluida
Women, Children, and Dogs: A Short Story Collection
A collection of short stories I've worked on for class at university. Fishmen, alligators, mothers, shepherds, killers, and so on. Content warnings and inspiration(s) at the beginning of each chapter.
World of Poems
take a long, good look into my healing heart and melodrama mind. breathe in my sweet, scented words and hold them close to your bleeding, scaly skeleton aching for emotion; they'll cradle your aching soul and sing mellow lullabies you've never even heard of. stand back and delve into my hideous self: take my broken, frail hand and i'll guide you along my compelling journey through the ever-lasting betrayal and heartbreak. never let go... not until we hit the end of this road. [highest rank: #17 in poetry]Concluida
Insecure
Welcome :) enjoy :)Concluida
❝𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆. 𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑰 𝒌𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒕 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆.❞ __________________ Esmeralda doesn't just steal your freedom . She takes your breath, your mind...𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴. Ashleen knows she should hate her. But what's the fun in that?
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