Vannah

United States

Y'know, I really hope I can pull off the cool mysterious deep writer persona. That'd be sick.

Message to Readers

So I have a spoken word project in my poetry class and I used one of my pre-written poems and changed it up. If y'all could review this and give me feedback on how to make it better that would be greatly appreciated!

Romantic (spoken word)

March 6, 2019

FREE WRITING

2
Pain is probably one of the strongest driving forces.
It demands to expressed.
So often romanticized in writing, music and film.
But what about when it's expressed in the dark, nitty-gritty ways?
The scandalous occurrences that leave people gasping, whispering their gossip to one another.
The ways that leave you in pain so much worse than before because now you're still crying, dying and now you have blood on your hands.
Your own.
A strangers?
It doesn't feel romantic now.
Not like it was promised.
Advertised.
The momentary relief now gone, like a forgotten utterance of ones love.
It just, disappeared…
Where is the beauty in this?
Looking from the outside in felt so much better,
but in this dark room you don't feel so beautiful,
so mysteriously misunderstood.
You feel disgusting,
nasty,
decay.
Failure.
What did you do?
Shoulders shuddering, heart thudding, it's like you've committed a crime.
Caught red handed by your mirror you must hide.
Hide your mistake,
wash away the blood,
and lock the secret up far far far away
Because if anyone found out, then you would get in trouble.
Not the kind of trouble that ends with a grounding, or your phone taken away,
But something so much worse that only you could paint the picture for yourself.
You wince when you look at the “art” you’ve made upon your own skin.
The scabs itch and flake but you have to keep quiet.
Because telling the truth is out of the question.
Repeated so many times to yourself, to the mirror:
Don’t tell,
Don’t tell,
Don’t tell.
Like the mantra itself has become a part of the sick ritual, but it keeps you safe.
But from what?
You can’t even figure that out anymore.
Safe from yourself?
From this unexplainable punishment you may receive if anyone finds out?
Who knows anymore!
Who cares!
This secret doesn’t belong to you anymore, you belong to it.
But your blade is getting dull now and the slice isn’t as deep.
The feeling is beginning to fade now and you can’t really feel you feet.
It may not seem that deep, but all this blood loss is getting to your  head, maybe you should take a nap.
You toss out the old knife and there is no new one to replace it.
When this “magical” promise loses its effect, you just have to let it go long enough to miss it.
You know how this goes.
You’re good for a few weeks, maybe even two months.
But you always come crawling back to the door begging for just one more.
Just one, one more.
And the itchy scabs are back,
The secret keeping is what keeps you alert.
And you’re in this “beautiful” club.
The promise you were given.
Where is the beauty now?

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