Category: Poetry

Letter To My Momma

Dear momma,

I don’t know if I should love you or hate you.

But I love you regardless.

You are the woman who protected me from everything, causing me to be naive as I entered adulthood.

You were the woman who drilled perfection into me.

I still remember your voice telling me “it has to be perfect.”

Now, I break down whenever something is a little off or isn’t “perfect.”

You are the woman who I go to when I’m in need. 

I call you everyday and when things are wrong.

You were the woman who told me you should’ve aborted me.

I still remember that and I wish you did. 

You were my enemy before you were my mother.

Momma, 

I wish you could’ve been better. 

I was a sensitive child and now I’m an asshole who is cruel to everyone just so I don’t get hurt again. 

I don’t even know how to open up to you about my personal life because I’m used to keeping it from you.

I still crave to be under you, in your warmth, just like when I was a baby, a child, a teenager and even now.

I want to hate you, but I can’t.

My inner child wants revenge for everything you did to me and how I am now. 

But I can’t help, but to love you.

I love you momma and I can’t imagine my life without you. 

You are my security net, but I’m scared of getting hurt again. 

I don’t want to be hurt again, momma.

I love you, momma, I love you more than I love myself.

I don’t know how can I forgive you for everything you put me through as a child

Just please don’t hurt me anymore.

-Love, Mini

Housewife

I am your housewife.

We’ve been married for three months at this point.

You’re wearing a classless suit, feeling like a real man.

I, standing in a short dress, with an apron around my small waist, am baking blueberry muffins.

I’m gorgeous, or at least I have been told. 

As I center a muffin on the plate, you sit on the couch, reading the daily paper.

I stroll over and hand you the muffin as I sit alongside you. 

I gaze, mindlessly, at you.

You’re gorgeous, or at least by society standards.

“Honey,” I began as he shifts his attention to me.

“Would you still love me, be married to me, if I was a monster? Would you still love me if I destroyed us?”

I don’t know how those words came out of me, but he accepted them and leans over to give me a kiss on my pink lips. 

“I chose you to be my wife for a reason.”

I blush and took the muffin away from him before he could eat it. 

Later that night,

I throw away the muffins that were laced with mercury.

He cancels my appointment to be locked away in a mental institution. 

I’m so glad he’s giving me another chance – giving us another chance.

My Baby

You don’t really want to be my baby.

It’s more than having a pretty face by your side.

I will only steal your joy and drive you crazy.

You only want to touch my developed, arousing body and steal my prize.

I am a monster.

I am the thing you hide from in your bed at night.

This pretty face,

This sexy body,

Is just a distraction from what is really lurking underneath.

I will tear you apart, limb by limb,

Piece by piece,

Until you are nothing, but a shell of what was once a human being. 

And you,

You will just let it happen.

Because who would deny this pretty, innocent being?

With that being said, 

Do you still want to be my baby?

Please Try

I am an unloveable, disturbed human being.

I am delusional and detach from reality on the regular.

I am a perfectionist who will only accept the best.

I am a monster who dreams about horror and destruction

However, I want someone to try.

I want someone to call me theirs.

I want someone whose love is on par with God’s.

I want someone who will pick up the pieces and put me back together.

I want someone to love me for my insanity and instability.

Being human

This world is a strange one.

I don’t know how I fit within it.

I don’t know how I function within it.

I don’t even know what to do within it.

But I have to make it work.

I have to adjust and get through it.

It scares me at times.

I’m scared of failing,

Losing,

Getting lost,

And falling apart.

But I have to do it.

I don’t want to let go yet.

You don’t understand

You don’t understand.

You don’t understand the need to marry a powerful, demonic being.

The need to be completely vulnerable.

The need to be an evil partner.

The need to only be sweet to my partner and child.

The need to be babied and cared for.

The need to only enjoy the luxuries of life.

The need to destroy anything that comes in the way of your love.

The need to hide behind a pretty face.

Cause I do

I look at myself and ask, “am I ok?”
I look at him and plead, “don’t leave me. don’t hate me.”

My therapist is amazing, words can’t describe her.
She’s the type of parent I wish I had.
I love her more than I love my ego.

I look at myself and ask, “am I crazy?”
I look at the messages from boys that only want to fuck me and ask,
“When?”

I know I’ll be happy one day,
I hope I’ll be happy one day.
My exterior is cracking more and more everyday.
I wonder if I’m becoming the form of myself that I always idealized.

I look at the person in the mirror and ask, “What is wrong with you?”
She looks back at me and says, “I don’t want to die, don’t hurt me.”
“No, I don’t want to die.”
I don’t want to die either.

Like a light switch

On – Off

On – Off

I will give you the world

I will make you want to kill me 

On – off

On – off

I never want to lose you

I hope I get to watch your painful death

On – Off

On – Off

I will give up everything for you

You are nothing, to me and to this world

Off – on 

Off – on

Why would you make me feel this way?

I love you too much to hate you.

Off – on

Off – on

I wish you never existed

I wish I had met you sooner

Off – on

Off – on

You are nothing to me

You are my all

Like me

And on the 12th day, the universe created girls like me

Girls who manipulate, lie and use to get their way

Girls who love to be babied by the men they take advantage of

Girls who daydream about harm, to themselves and others

Girls who will always choose violence and mischief

Girls who enjoy hurting people and watching them break into piece

Girls who hide their true selves behind an attractive face

Girls who only fear being ripped open and their unsightliness being displayed

We are not in competition

You and I.

Me and you.

We aren’t the same.

I am your competition, but you are not mine.

My tongue is sharp and I can cut you into pieces with a simple three word sentence.

My eyes can kill you with one single glance.

My hands are lethal and I could kill you with my thumb.

Any ill intentions towards me? Keep it to yourself.

You can’t go against me as I am what you can never be.

I am a leader,

I am clever,

I am intelligent,

I am stable,

I am charming, 

and I am gorgeous.

I am all,

You are nothing.

You are not me and I am and will never be you.