Being A **** Is Not A Gift (Monologue)

This is something I wrote and it's about something really personal that I went through .




She said: "You've got nothing to fear",
But I know nothing's safe in here, my dear,
The future's not clear.
How could our future be clear if I don't have one myself?
I'll hold your hand against my heart but you'll just take it and crush it.
Like a fly being shown their last thoughts by a carnivorous plant,
I'm left on the empty canvas of my mind.
Lying motionless, paralyzed by uncertainty, fear and insecurity, I wonder:
Why do you care? If you do at all, that is.
All you care about is you and your image.
All you care about is looking good and showing your tits.
All you care about is not to be different.
All you'll care about will not be the ones who care about you.
All you'll care about will not be the ones who love you.
All you'll care about will not be the slutty habits you'll be surrounded by.
Where did your innocence go? The one yourself praised so much.
"Oh, he was an *******". Was he really? Should I say "they"?
Have the skies opened up? I thought I heard something,
But maybe it was your hands crushing my skull
Or perhaps just my brain, 'cause you always seem to leave a frame in me,
A frame for me.
How sad though.
"She is the cave of the wicked, full of ceremonies
Where only the evil will survive
And rationality is nothing but a meal they dare eat but not taste
With their spiky tongues, without a shred of conscience."
They said to me. Close ones. How they warned me over the past couple years.
I think I'm better off with this.
I'm sure you shouldn't exist.
When everyone is dead what will the cover of my pillow be useful for?
I'm not sure, but I know it's sad how we don't value the things that comforted us
And it's sad I'm reduced to the disappoiting insignificance of a pillow
You lay your head in and beg for comfort in, for a moment.
Just for one moment.
A moment you wouldn't trade for anything in that exact second
But a moment that's infinitely meaningless in your life,
Like the second I declared my love for you,
Where each second seemed like a spiral
Of vomit and spit, blood and tears, that went on endlessly.
Endlessly it went, my darling, carrying me to my ending.
Like a concrete daisy with just one petal to take, you controlled my fate,
Leaving me with just an undeniable fatal ending
And exploding now without a sense of right and wrong.
It's funny how we were forever but I'm sure we won't be for long.

Being a "what" is not a gift?

"s l u t" , it's censored :P

and in the text, the censored word is "a s s h o l e"

Originally Posted by Guilha

"s l u t" , it's censored :P

and in the text, the censored word is "a s s h o l e"

Ah, thanks. So it's "Being A Slυt Is Not A Gift"

haha, yes


what do you think of it? (the text, not the title :P)

Hi Guilha, hope you continue around with us, I just started reading some of your poems, some are closed threads, but some of them, like this, seem to me so personal and sincere, cause I notice that you reflect in them parts of your life, so, you may be writing a poetic auto biography, hope we can read something new from you soon. Thank you.