For the little girl who cried on the floor,
Who hurt so much she felt no love at all,
She thought she wanted to die that cold day,
Who felt so unheard by her family.
For the teenager who dressed in all black,
Who wore the same two hoodies the whole year,
She was blamed and told it was all her fault,
Who hurt herself just to soothe the numbness.
For me who writes poems to speak my hurt,
Who scrubs my skin red raw in the shower,
She is me who is afraid of trusting,
Who was hurt long ago but feels pain still.
For me and all other hurt little girls,
I will speak loud I will not be silent.
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Author:
NinjaGirl (
Offline) - Published: September 5th, 2025 14:13
- Comment from author about the poem: Sonnet-style.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, ᴷᵉᶻᵉˣˣᵉ
Offline)
Comments4
Speak out. yell it from the mountain tops if it helps it is good I use poetry to cleanse what is inside. Nicely done
Amen to this Soren! Me too!
Thank you!!
You are most welcome
🥷, this is raw and powerful. Moving from the little girl to the teen to yourself now, you give voice to pain that too often stays hidden...and that close, “I will speak loud,” lands with strength for so many. Beautifully done, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛ You are most courageous and definitely a great role model in my eyes!
Thank you. I hope so, I really hope so!
Straight from the heart. It really spoke the words. That's what I call poetey.
Perhaps it's my limitation that I can't understand euphemistic excusion into the void of metaphorical metaphores. Sorry for the whinging.
Thank you so much for reading! Haha, yes it's true
Very beautiful NinjaGirl
Thank you so much!
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