PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

so no one would hear her scream


they never saw the real me

the one i hid away in my closet

buried with the things i hid from society

tied her up and taped over her mouth so no one would hear her scream

 

i remember being happy

it's like a faraway dream

a distant memory that keeps slipping

just out of my reach

 

happiness became a foreign feeling

i remember the day it left me

it was the day that i was told i was unappealing

by a boy in the eighth grade

 

i became obsessed with the idea of enough

good, smart, pretty, skinny

i began to struggle, i was entirely too rough

happiness for my life turned to hate

 

i hated all my looks

i hated my personality

i hated how i wasn't smarter than the books

i hated every detail about my young self

 

it manifested into routines

cutting turned into not eating

and soon i wanted to stop breathing

all because of a boy

 

a boy who told me i wasn't pretty

enough

a boy who felt it his right to touch me

without my permission

 

a boy that was the catalyst

for all the things that happened

the reason the joy of high school was missed

and why i became obsessed

 

obsessed with my body

and how it wasn't right

obsessed with everybody

and what they thought of me

 

so that's why i hid her

why i tied her up and taped over her mouth

it's getting harder and harder to remember

but i think i can still see her beautiful smile

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.

maddiecmac

i'm trying so hard to live a happy healthy normal life, but the past always reaches up and grabs me so here i am. in all my glory.

View all poems →

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

Comments are closed for this poem.