Ficwriter Jet's Poetry

If you're looking for poetry that is happy, flowery, and makes you feel good, you're in the wrong spot.
If you're looking for spanky fanfiction, you're also in the wrong spot (just hit the back button).
My poetry is more like blunt force trauma to the head.

Poetry was the only form of therapy I could afford for a long time, so there is some pretty messed up stuff from my childhood below. All of these traumatic things that happened to me are behind me now, and my life is currently good and happy. Yet I still feel the urge to share these. Maybe hearing about my past truama, can help someone get through their current trauma, because I came through it all to become a relatively happy adult.

WARNING: If you are easily triggered, or emotionally fragile you should NOT read these poems.
The following potential triggers are found below: child neglect (some might call it abuse), child molestation, self harm, drug use, child alcohol use, pregnancy loss, depression.

The Last Time

the last time it happens
I am eleven

I come home to find
strangers in the kitchen
and Stepmother smiling
while playing perfect host

pretending to like me
she makes introductions
like a happy family
when we're anything but

Dad beckons me over
I climb on his lap
rest my head on his chest
seaking out comfort

he hands me his beer
I gulp a fourth down
it's yummy and cold
the room grows silent

the visitors stare
Stepmother hisses
"Don't give her beer!"
but she's seen it before

I turn to my father
see triumph in his profile
I know I'm being used
the beer starts to churn

I'm an expendable pawn
in this game that they play
she hates bad impressions
he hates making good ones

Dad offers me more
I know which side I play for
there isn't a choice
I choke some more down

it's the last time
I sit in his lap


sleeping on the floor by my cousin's bed
a shadow blocks the light from the hallway
it's one of the boys placed by the state
they're adults to me, but really just teens

unlike the others, this boy always smiles
he lies next to me on the floor, 'Can't sleep?'
still being awake this late is naughty, 'I tried.'
he rubs my tummy in circles, 'It's okay.'

he wriggles a hand into my painties
it feels wrong, I try to close my legs
his breath on my ear, 'Don't you like it?'
I shake my head no, a frown on my face

his teeth glint when he smiles, 'Most girls do.'
I desperately need to be like most girls
they have all the things that I don't
I try to lie still, be compliant for him

encouraged, he kisses my cheek
but I'm not good at being most grils
soon I can't keep my words in
my voice wavers in fear, 'I don't like it.'

shushing me gently, he holds up a necklace
presses it into my hand, 'For you.'
kisses my mouth goodnight before leaving
the coiled chain shimmers in my palm

this boy is the first male to see value in me
the first to give me his undivided attention
unlike my father, stepfathers, or uncles
who would all prefer it if I were invisible

I wear it at breakfast, quite pleased with myself
Aunt askes, 'Why are you wearing my necklace?'
I explain that it's mine, the boy gave it to me
Uncle yells, 'Did that boy touch you!'

his anger is scary, I shake my head no
the boy is forced to leave for his stealing
they let me keep the necklace as proof
that no one is angry, except that's a lie

over twenty years later my daughter is five
playing with my jewelry, she puts on the necklace
the sight of her wearing it makes me physically ill
later that night, when no one is looking, I throw it away

My Hero

a warm summer evening
Dad and his buddy
on the back patio
busy getting high

it's a daily occurence
he doesn't try to hide it
claims that marijuana
is enriching his life

he can't hold a job
works under the table
lives off his wife
grows his own weed

he's out there laughing
holding a kitten
carefully blowing
noxious smoke in her face

he sets her down
laughs at her mewl
righteous anger
bubbles inside me

I tell him he's cruel
he gets defensive
'Pets are beneath us.'
'Blah, blah, blah, blah.'

I pick up the kitten
block out his rambling
wish we weren't related
turn my back on him

I've heard girls say
'My dad is my hero.'
this entire concept
is foreign to me

I can not remember
respecting my father
I only remember
being ashamed


walking home from school
I see a man staring
he looks like my father
but Dad doesn't live here

don't talk to strangers
I walk straight past him
his footsteps follow me
I turn to confront him

'Are you my dad?'
the man answers, 'Yes.'

ten years later
I'm in the backseat
when Dad tells his wife
how much that day hurt him

suddenly the guilt
of our fractured relationship
shifts to my shoulders
I hate six-year-old me

if only I'd run to him
'Daddy I missed you.'
maybe we'd be more
than related strangers

guilt turns to fury
he was the grownup
if he'd stayed in contact
I would have known him

Childhood Fears

quietly I climb the stairs
peek out at the driveway
Mom's car isn't there
she's out on a date

I sit on the top step
tears roll down my face
shivers run through my body
along with bad thoughts

what if she likes him
more than she likes me?
what if he hates me?
where would I go then?

Father doesn't want me
busy with his teenage lover
if Mom doesn't want me
there's no one who will

lights in the window
signal her return
rushing back to bed
I'm able to sleep

The Hammer

my smile falters when I step off the school bus
the car in the driveway says it's his day off
clutching my books, I walk in and mumble hello
Stepfather grunts in response while watching TV

our eyes never meet as I go to my room
there are two hours until Mom gets home
the TV goes silent, my ears track his movement
he goes outside, peace settles in the house

the front door opens and slams
footsteps pound down the hall
his body blocks my doorway
holding a hammer in his fist
hatred coats his voice

'You left this outside!'
'It's been raining! It's ruined!'
'Don't ever touch my tools again!'

frozen in terror, I can't blink or breathe
he walks away radiating disgust
I climb in my closet, back against the wall
clothes hiding the tears on my face

he's never hit me, never touched me at all
that would require feeling something for me
the twenty dollar tool deserves some respect
he likes the hammer, it doesn't annoy him
spend time with his wife, or talk, feel, eat, breathe

there's still an hour before Mom gets home
I won't tell her what happened today
silenece is better, no one gets angry
silence and I have been friends for years

Bad Parenting

I want to slaughter perfect strangers
when I see them hurt their kids

ignoring, threatinging, yelling, and hitting
while people pass by, pretending not to see

perpetuating cycles of abuse and neglect
spreading their violence to the next generation

rage builds inside me with each new encounter
their hate seeping into my thoughts and memories

I want to assault them the way they assauled me
with their public displays of bad parenting


'I'm cold,' whines the boy
his mother ignors him
again and again

soon I can't stand it
I talk to the boy
prove he's worth noticing

unaccustom to attention
the child is unsettled
his mother is too

with a false smile
she discourages my scrutiny
'He's just having a pity party.'

society says smile back
my lips refuse to curl
neglect should not be rewarded

her casual dismissal
is familiar and stabbing
vomiting up my childhood pain

it will take hours
to dull my irrational rage
days to recover my equilibrium

No Name

my little baby, No Name,
how I long to have you back

hold you in my arms
smell you skin after a bath
see my smile relected in your face
hear your cries in the night

I love you, though we never met
I miss you when I dream
I think about what could have been
and what will never be

because of your untimely death
I am serving life
imprisoned in my own mind
with no chance of parole


the desire to hurt myself
immediate and demanding
the all encompassing need
excludes all other thoughts

physical pain helps stifle
the emotional turmoil
for things I don't say
for things I don't do

scabs and bruises become
proof of my self-loathing

they make it easier to bear
when I think of my failures
they lower my expectations
and make me hate myself less

my pretty marred skin
stares back at me to say
'That's right you suck.
But you're awesome at sucking.'


I am the pumpkin
still sitting on the porch
five days after
Halloween is over

my fixed grin
and owtward appearance
are a facade to conceal the mold
rotting away at my insides

when touched
the framwork of my shell
is compromised
and I break into pieces

instead of a warm fire
burning in my soul
there is a hard puddle
of cold useless wax

past my prime
I'm ready and waiting
for a day that occurred
a long time ago

the only thing left
is to be recycled
put in the ground
to help new life grow


I feel my sanity
slipping away
sand through a
tightly clenched fist

anger, a cancer
invading my heart
eating at normalcy
breaking me down

control of my emotions
weakens and bends
overwhelming hatred
for everyday people

is this a product
of recent seclusion
or the natural progresssion
when going insane


love for my children
so fierce it smothers
forces existing
but isn't fulfilling

fervor for my spouse
so depleted it sways
lust and fury become
affection and annoyance

apathy for colleagues
so enduring it numbs
pretending to care
is simply exhausing

desire for friendship
so neglected it aches
no soulmate, no kinship,
no drive to keep searching

contempt for myself
so sudden it cripples
each breath a struggle
in the routine of life


humanity, like a parasite
reproducing at great speed
attacking the earth's surface
slowly killing its host

our masses are obsessed
with immediate gratification
swayed by ignorance and greed
no concern for the distant future

our past and present history
full of atrocities committed
in various god's names
to avoid personal accountability

we as a species must
grow out of our infancy
and find peace on our planet
before we're extinct

Silent No More

words choke my throat
trying to escape
they want to be spoken
they need to be heard
clenching my jaw
I refuse to release them

unwiling to be forgotten
they demand liberation
darting and dancing
circling in my head
making me dizzy
turning me sick

the words gestate
growing in strength
gaining importance
until they break free
in a flurry of rage
escaping my lips

born too late
they're overgrown
ripping me open
as they pour out
they're ugly and mean

and yet I love them

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