I wish I could tell you
when you looked at me with eyes of pity
to not pity me,
because I've been through so much ,
and I don't want pity
I wish I could share with the people in the room,
my stories,
the stories that I leave out
the stories
of mourning
the stories of grieveing
the stories
of how I lift myself up each day
some days its harder
and some days its a bit easier
how I cry almost every day
how much I mourn a family that I never truly had
how much I wish I could go back to all the toxic people
that I left
for I am so lonely and longing for love and connection
but I don't because I value myself
more
how much I dissacociate each day
how much the hunger inside of me
aches and consumes,
trying to be dulled by addictions,
aches to be seen loved touched valued
seen
to be complimented on something  other than just how I look,
to be cuddled,
without being sexualized
how deep my feelings are
how much I want friends
even just one
how much I wish I had the money
to travel
to sit at beautiful restruants,
and to pertend I live a different life
but instead I sit and I do my best
to not overshare or trauma dump
and to laugh off the things that hurt me
the things that have made me so bitter and cynical
instead I am always wishing hoping
and working towards a better life for myself
for I don't know any other way .
How much I yearn to sit with a mother
that I truly love
that is truly kind to me
that I know would do anything for me
how much I yearn for a father
that i know that could support me
that If I would call on the phone and cry to him
that he would do anything to help me
that would hold my hand and keep me safe
how much I long for to have a sister a brother
that  would be my best friend in the world
that would  respect me and care about me
and my pain
but instead I have no one
I am not looking for pity
I am looking for understanding
for a longing
of peace
that I don't have to spend another night crying,
in my bed all alone,
in a foreign country
all alone,
each time I sleep
I remember more trauma
that I forgot
of the men who hurt me in public,
and no one cared
or even asked me If I was okay .
so when people ask me
why do you have such a negetive view on life,
because I have met such horrible people
but still I am trying ,
constantly trying,
today I went out,
spoke with some people,
smiled instead of cried,
and tried to cloak my words with laughter and hopefulness
so they wouldn't see the tears that hide behind my eyes
that cry all the time.

last night in my dreams
Last night
I saw you
the memories that I tried to push away
of 2 years  ago
when I was so happy and excited to wear my first ever bikini
for I had spent so much of my life religious
where I thought I had met the cutest israeli guy
who I thought was so handsome and sweet
but how sweet
torture can taste
when we think torture is love
we went to the beach
you watched me and tried to **** me while the beach was filled with people
and I didn't realize it
I guess I didn't realize it
because it had happened so often beforehand
of me being abused by men
that it just doesn't hit you
or hurt you the same anymore
I guess some people can ask
why do you write such dark poetry
because this was my life
its not just poetry
i have lived this life for so so long
and I could never scream
I was always so silent
stuck in a never ending muffled scream
from the time I was a child and my father would hurt me
and my mother would laugh at me
and I learnt that my voice doesn't matter anymore
so why would it matter if i scream
noone would hear me anyways
now I am working on
making myself heard
even if it means being alone
so in the past couple of months
I have stopped dating men
stopped having toxic friends
and cut off everyone in my family
for they all bullied me
I want to give hope to maybe even just one person
that no matter if you come from a family and a life
like mien
where the abuse is so intense
it breaths like cuts that run so deep
like shards through your chest
that you think are life giving
so you run back wanting more
where you think ****** assaults
and **** is love
where you think objectifation
and patriarchy is love
no it is not!

To all the men and women who tortured me
and laughed at my screams
one day you will see me
and I will make my comeback
this is the only thing that keeps me going
most of the time is learning to hear my own cries
its learning to  hug myself alone in my room
because right now no one else will
its writing all the time
for it gives me life
its grieveing
a past so painful
that I just feel like
I can't breathe most of the time
its carrying the deepest and saddest pain inside of me
that I can create so much art from it.
for art is created from pain.