Tag Archives: poem

Something Whispers

When I am empty

That is it.

But I always seem

To fill up

Once again


Just so you can

Poke holes in me

Poisonous words

Lashing into the

Soul you always

…what word goes here?


Shaped into something




Soft thumps

Abrade the inside

Of my rib cage

And something odd

Flitters through

My chest


It isn’t life

Its tubing

Left there from

When I hated myself

A little less


Electronic beeping

Reminding me

To pretend

I am human




I am not

Not today

Not inside this skin

Which itches

And weakens


Not inside

This mind

That falls down

So easily


Sometimes it seems

So silly

That I ever thought

I could be real


To live with grace

To walk without oiled joints

Or charged lights

Behind my eyes

From which everything

Was stolen


(by me)

(something whispers)


I forgot

I was the one

Behind the mask

Wearing the gloves

Leaving no trace


Can anyone see me?


I forgot

I was the one

Who let this happen

Who roused from slumber

And did nothing

Who watched from behind

Serpent eyes

And let you die


Losing no sleep

Losing no hope

Because I never

Gave myself any


Not now


Can anyone hear me?


I don’t want to remember

The disjointed story

Of who I was

When I bled


…when was that?

Was it real?


I wonder

If it would hurt less

If I was never human at all


Simply a stain on the porcelain


Slipping down the time

The sand

Shivering down the hourglass



But watching



The very definition of all

And yet so utterly devoid


Knowing all

Understanding none of it

But remembering



I forgot

How to tell the truth

Or which it was


Can you feel me?


Not now…


I forgot

How to speak

Without a tongue

How to see

Without a spine


Can I walk

Knowing the many times

My very breath crawled


Is it possible

That I never really forgot



Why do we torture ourselves?

How many of us are there

In here?

This one little body


Pieces hiding

Shuffling about

Slipping behind curtains

Fixing smeared mascara

Redressing so no one notices


Their stories

Are shuttered up

Dust chokes the sunrises

Moonlight can’t hide

The shadows


Our stories

Not to be remembered

Not now…


I forgot

How the tip of a fingernail

Could hold so many

Dead skin cells


They aren’t all mine


(yes they are)

(something whispers)


And I deny everything

Black lipstick that doesn’t


Or leave

Photos behind


Because I can’t remember

How to tell myself

The truth

Of it all


When I do

I wonder

Would it be better

To never have lived inside

This damaged structure

So stone like

Easily breakable


And no, I wasn’t

Made by accident

Why does everyone ask?

We all clamber around

Waiting for a story to be


It wasn’t an accident

We remember

I shake my head

We know

Our skin

My skin

We feel


It’s like they can see

I’m made from

Different coincidences

Kissing beneath the

Atom bomb


Waiting for something

To change

Or someone

To notice

The shadows

Etched into my bones.


(can anyone see me?)

(no, I don’t think I can)

(something whispers)


By Daphne Shadows


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Filed under Not that Kind of Poetry

fighting self

i had a dream

the other night

it helped me understand

part of who i am


i ran

i hurt

i now know why


when i woke up

i understood

why i hurt myself

with food



with hate

with arrows i sharpen

aim for my heart

pulling my

skin from muscles

veins from around bones

yanking my soul free

casting it aside

like so little trash


i live in a dream state


trying to figure out

how to change

the truth

i now know



by Daphne Shadows

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I’m Not Done v.2

The Valley

Isn’t a place

You know


It is where

We live

Where we


Where we




Where we







The light

Isn’t awaiting

Our creation


It exists













By Daphne Shadows

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I’m Not Done v.1

The Valley

Isn’t a place

You know


It’s a


Of being





The Darkness

Isn’t awaiting

The chance

To attack



Lives inside











By Daphne Shadows


Kinda in reference to this Valley 

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Filed under Not that Kind of Poetry


There’s a hard place inside me

Nothing cruel

Or cold.

A void

Where none can hurt me.

Not warmth

This is a solitary place.

These moments settle into me

With a velvety grace

Lace against bare skin.


Where I’m lost.

Not a haze

Nothing stings

Perhaps I do hurt

But I can’t find my way.

Life becomes

A thick paste

I do not understand.



By Daphne Shadows


Filed under Not that Kind of Poetry

When I Leak

Does it matter? The endless mind numbing chatter. The inner dialogue running until you’re frozen.

I’m slowly falling apart. From the inside out.

Pieces are falling off.

I’m a shambling, bleeding mess. Shuffling towards something I don’t know.

Am I wrong, for trying to feel?

The blood just pours.

Am I wrong for wanting truth, for wanting the genuine article?

I want to let go of the pain. But it follows. Stalking me from the gallows.


There’s so much beauty. But I’m drowning in terror, in black claws, perforating my lungs, my tears, my voice, only a hair’s breadth away.

And I am lost while I am falling and fighting and drowning.

I’ll make more of it than it really is. Then I’ll strip it away. The glass won’t break but the plastic is molding.

Is it funny? That I’m screaming as its burning. Yet I won’t step back from the fire.

It’s good for me, I sob.



Who am I?

Sticky notes I can’t find. Pens keep running out of ink. Letters crumpled in the corner.

The advantage is soaking.

The sorrow tastes like sweet beauty. Something I can embrace.

Is it okay to be like this?

Yes! I finally scream, voice breaking, the emptiness staring me mute.


The dust hid it. I lost the broom.

Can I just keep the delusion?

And it swells until it destroys the whole point.

The whispers can’t hear me. They keep creeping past, leaving the candles lit.

I know its new. But I can’t find the ticket. And the roof fell in.

Its waiting in the box but I can’t seem to take it out, to save myself.

Nothing sturdy. I can’t put life here. It’ll shatter.


Sometimes the best thing to do is let go, come back tomorrow, and try again.

The spine is well worn. The pages are empty.

Can I, please?

Just take my time.

I won’t stay if this keeps up. I’ve only got so much pulse.

It’s not really numbing. You’ll regret that.

And I’m so tired. Its worn me down.

The tendrils slip right in and rip it all out.

I’m finding part of me in this divide.


Beneath the glitter

Beneath the paint

I found the sinner

I found the saint.


I found your soul

I spat it out

It fixed my faith

It fixed my doubt.


I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long. Sometimes the flame doesn’t realize the heat’s gone.


I ran

I crawled

I found the door

I can’t stay here, anymore.


It took my present

It took my past

I took a breath

It took my last.


You’re not lucky

I find it best

To remember the truth

I’m here, I’m blessed.


Correct me if I’m wrong

You’ll correct me if I’m right

I’m really very tired

Of circling this same old fight.


I’d like to pause with a smile. But I find I’m merely content.



By Daphne Shadows


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Filed under Not that Kind of Poetry, Stream of Consciousness

I Digress

If it won’t be easy,

I have to ask –

Will it be so trying

That by the end,

My soul is dying?


Sometimes, I think,

The harder thing to do,

Is what turns out

Being, in the end,

Exactly right for you.



By Daphne Shadows

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Filed under Not that Kind of Poetry