Some Nights, I Forget My Name

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Votes 41
Parts 5
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Reads 115
Votes 41
Parts 5
Time 5m

jonaxx memories poem poetrycollection prosepoetry story writing

There are nights when memories taste heavier than silence, and I wonder if growing up was just another way of losing ourselves.

prose poetryAll Rights Reserved

jonaxx memories poem poetrycollection prosepoetry story writing

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What My Mother Forgot by WhatMyMotherForgot

Before reading this, you should know... This is not a happy story. There is no happy ending. Simply put, this is a chronological account of the abuse, neglect, and bullying I suffered at the hands of loved ones from birth to 17 years old. It does not include reflection. It is meant to be a recounting from my perspective at the time. When you read content from Birth to around 11 years old, it is intended to sound like a young child is telling the story, versus those written about events that occurred when I was older. Before embarking on writing this, I considered how honest I wanted to be and what details I truly wanted and needed to share. Ultimately, I chose to publish these things anonymously. I've taken some responsibility for hiding the identities of those I wrote about, but I did not protect them nearly as much as I protected myself. Over the years, I've kept these stories secret because I love these people who hurt me. I believed I was loving them by not telling. But now that I'm an adult, and I understand love a little better, I realized that while I may have been making someone feel safe, I was not keeping myself safe.

This is a collection of poems and pieces of writing. That I have written over the last 2 years of my life. I've never been one to actually live. To take the risk. A lot of the things I have written are about things that have happened in my head. Or random thoughts that have popped into my head that I was able to make more of. I've never known how to say the words aloud. Even if i did I never had the confidence to so. So I would write. I hope you enjoy and are able to feel something.

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Mind {Prose Vol. 2}✔ by FriendlyDragon478

❝In my mind, there is pain. I am exhausted. I feel defeat from my hair tips to my feet- my body feels the stress weighing down on my shoulders. I try and try every day, but nothing seems to go my way. In my mind, there is pain, yet I try because one day, I will feel great. The body, mind, and soul are connected, and it is up to us to determine how to respect them.❞ - Me These writings are my observations and perspectives, some full of laughter and fun, others painful and dark, suffocating, leaving me with nowhere to run. ✿✿✿✿✿✿✿ A collection of unedited poems I wrote extemporaneously (ages 16-18), as well as a chockfull of quotes. This books contains my: Poems 105- & Quotes 96-175. Formerly known as: ❛My Poems and Quotes Book (Vol. II),❜ 2017-2020. Volume Two of My Poems and Quotes. Feel free to check out Volume I, labelled as ❛Body,❜ on my profile. Don't forget to vote and comment; I love engaging with you guys! :D ✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

"The red lines, on paper, was no longer cutting it. So the red lines on my arms, and on my thighs replaced them." "Her addictions took her in the end, but they had already stolen so much before that." "When had my heart grown heavy, burdened by the things I never expected to carry?" "But love, when it is bound by obligation, can feel like a cage instead of an embrace." Warning contains: SU!C!DE, BL00D, MVRD3R, ALC0H0L, DRVGS, and SH Enjoy!🖤

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Didn't Want to be the Strong One by txtFromT

Some people were never given the choice to fall apart. This is for the ones who smiled when they didn't want to. Who held it together so others didn't have to. Who were told they were "strong" when all they really felt was tired. I Didn't Want to Be the Strong One is a raw, poetic confessional - part journal, part quiet breakdown. There's no plot. Just pages that bleed a little. If you've ever been the one who got through it silently... This one's for you.

I've been through my own struggle, whether it was created in my head by way of prolonged sadness or bitterness/resentment, or if I was struggling with things I had no control over like failed friendships, a broken heart, or family drama. This is my advice to you based off of my life experiences. Along with pieces of life experience advice I've included poetry and spoken word pieces from different perspectives and I try to break down life into beautiful words that people can relate to and see that we all struggle- you're not alone and we are each so valuable.

Eventually I write I make small things big things I crush myself to be inspired I weep over nonsensical things I try to uncomplicate thoughts but I can't Welcome to my world of ludicrous regalia With a lot of endless questions flooding you These are the Lost Titles and Forgotten Rhymes ⓒ a.i.s ➋0➀❹

When small smiles alter destinies... by ViolentBlack08

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What My Mother Forgot

Before reading this, you should know... This is not a happy story. There is no happy ending. Simply put, this is a chronological account of the abuse, neglect, and bullying I suffered at the hands of loved ones from birth to 17 years old. It does not include reflection. It is meant to be a recounting from my perspective at the time. When you read content from Birth to around 11 years old, it is intended to sound like a young child is telling the story, versus those written about events that occurred when I was older. Before embarking on writing this, I considered how honest I wanted to be and what details I truly wanted and needed to share. Ultimately, I chose to publish these things anonymously. I've taken some responsibility for hiding the identities of those I wrote about, but I did not protect them nearly as much as I protected myself. Over the years, I've kept these stories secret because I love these people who hurt me. I believed I was loving them by not telling. But now that I'm an adult, and I understand love a little better, I realized that while I may have been making someone feel safe, I was not keeping myself safe.

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