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What it looks like to feel terrible.

By Amelia MoorePublished 5 months ago Updated 5 months ago 1 min read

She started with booze,

Slipping hot as happiness, a burning trade,

A remedy for the maggots inside that begged to be drowned,

Twisted white in her corpse of a soul.


Then there were tattoos,

Ink fingers dripping rebellious words she only sometimes didn't mean,

Secrets hidden at her collarbone that begged to be spilled,

Impulses that were not half as evil as her others.


She smoked to feel it burn her fingers,

Boys offered her dark, dirty escapes,

She dressed like a shield and spoke like a sword,

And everyone feared the emotions inside of her,

The possibility of it all.

At night she lay in bed but didn't sleep,

Smoked again,

And whispered, "Fuck, how else should I be traumatized."

sad poetry

About the Creator

Amelia Moore

17-year-old writer who hopes to write stories for a living someday-- failing that, I'd like to become a mermaid.

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Comments (3)

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  • The Invisible Writer5 months ago

    This was very intense, raw, and honest. I loved it

  • Except for the booze, tattoos, casual sex & smoking, I've lived here for a long while, too. (I have other vices by which I numb myself obsessively.) So let me just say it again: damn, girl, you can write!

  • Kelly Robertson5 months ago

    Powerful and emotional. Trauma is expressed in so many ways and the picture your painted here is so sad. I love the line about her dressing like a shield and speaking like a sword. Amazing work!

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