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BrokenBrisket
7 1,314 M Little Steps 4
PathStep 1 Compassion hearts117 Forum posts5 Forum upvotes11 Current upvotes11 Age GroupAdult Last activeMay, 2025 Member sinceApril 15, 2025
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Louder
Poetry / by BrokenBrisket
Last post
 May 3rd, 2025
...See more You took away my voice but I will scream You crushed my hope but I will dream If I can’t move then I will fight If I can’t talk then I will write If I can’t speak then I will read If I can’t feel then I will bleed Through the ink, through the brink Until the page knows everything Until all you see is what I think I used to open my mouth And nothing came out Not because there was nothing there But because too much was That every word was bursting to shout A flood trapped by clenching teeth A storm that language couldn’t catch So I swallowed silence like a stone And wore quiet like a mask I don’t hold back on the page My lips don’t feel glued shut No weight dragging down my tongue No voice caught in my gut I might shut up to be polite But when I write, the words erupt I don’t swallow myself whole When its just me and the words The ink doesn’t judge me The lines don’t interrupt You wanted me to disappear But here I am In every letter In every rhyme till it feels better In every word that you tried to steal from me And I’ve never been more clear Silence doesn’t break me Silence is the language I had to learn Fear did not freeze me Fear only taught me how to burn I will scratch syllables into the margins of the world Press my pain into every fold I will airstrike my story to have it told My poems are not quiet They rage in lowercase Weep between commas And scream at the hatred on your face They shake the bones of what you did to me And burn louder than what you’ve done They rise from the *** you tried to leave me in I’ll survive, I will be the living one I’m not silenced, just louder If you want me erased, then do it You did not leave me voiceless You only made me a poet
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Louder
Poetry / by BrokenBrisket
Last post
 May 1st, 2025
...See more You took away my voice but I will scream You crushed my hope but I will dream If I can’t move then I will fight If I can’t talk then I will write If I can’t speak then I will read If I can’t feel then I will bleed Through the ink, through the brink Until the page knows everything Until all you see is what I think I used to open my mouth And nothing came out Not because there was nothing there But because too much was That every word was bursting to shout A flood trapped by clenching teeth A storm that language couldn’t catch So I swallowed silence like a stone And wore quiet like a mask I don’t hold back on the page My lips don’t feel glued shut No weight dragging down my tongue No voice caught in my gut I might shut up to be polite But when I write, the words erupt I don’t swallow myself whole When its just me and the words The ink doesn’t judge me The lines don’t interrupt You wanted me to disappear But here I am In every letter In every rhyme till it feels better In every word that you tried to steal from me And I’ve never been more clear Silence doesn’t break me Silence is the language I had to learn Fear did not freeze me Fear only taught me how to burn I will scratch syllables into the margins of the world Press my pain into every fold I will airstrike my story to have it told My poems are not quiet They rage in lowercase Weep between commas And scream at the hatred on your face They shake the bones of what you did to me And burn louder than what you’ve done They rise from the *** you tried to leave me in I’ll survive, I will be the living one I’m not silenced, just louder If you want me erased, then do it You did not leave me voiceless You only made me a poet
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Stuck
Trauma Support / by BrokenBrisket
Last post
 April 27th, 2025
...See more does it ever get better? its been 19 years, I have a better life, a job a marriage, hobbies. does it ever go away?
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A Taste of Me
Poetry / by BrokenBrisket
Last post
 April 26th, 2025
...See more Hi! I'm new to this community. In this poem, my life is a menu, and butter is the main ingredient. The first bite lingers, a laugh in a room full of strangers, the kind that disappears as quickly as it came Smells like nostalgia rotting on the stove, warm, familiar, but something’s always a bit off The illusion of being wanted A hand reaching out, not to hold but to own. A touch that brands me instead of soothe, with my life in bold font and my regrets as its logo. Tastes like sweetness that turned sour, like a smile you forced so long it curdled and left nothing but creepy lumps.  Roller coasters, confusing fear for excitement because that’s the only type of love I’ve ever known Spreads onto bread like trauma onto memory, like bad things on a good day, like scars hidden beneath silk, like poison stirred into tea with trembling hands. Intrusive memories I can’t tell apart from a nightmare, they flood the senses, I can’t tell if everything that happened led to me making them up or if they shaped everything into what it is. Can’t tell what’s real and what’s just a thought, what’s true and what’s not The second course arrives, heavier, The weight of my own body in a mirror I can’t look away from I keep trying to move, to change, to run But my past clings like a second skin Feels like a spread knife with no mercy, one that keeps digging at my throat, never deep enough to end it, just deep enough to silence me, a spread knife gentle only in appearance, but its glide slices soft flesh in ways no one sees Softens too easily, always ready to lose its shape for someone else’s comfort I call it progress; It calls me a liar Looks like happiness, golden, soft, inviting, until it melts into everything and drips sizzling between your legs It melts like sanity under pressure, slow, irreversible, leaving everything greasy with what it once was. For my drink I’d like a glass of dissociation  I’d like it served chilled, with a cracked reflection on the side. No refills, this drink can fill me. To keep me smiling, even when my lips don’t feel mine anymore.  Coats the tongue like apologies I never meant but said anyways, just to be left alone. Sounds like silence coated in fat, thick, slow, impossible to swallow without gagging. And tastes better when it’s salted, like kindness with conditions, like affection with an aftertaste, like saying I love you with your teeth clenched and your eyes shut. There’s comfort in the quiet after the storm, but it’s the kind of peace that tastes like regret. A silence so thick it feels like a hug, not comfort really, just the absence of more pain The numbness I feed like a pet And no matter what I throw in its way it keeps asking for more, because if I don’t feed it smoke, sex, lies, pain, chaos, fights, I’m afraid it would just eat me alive. Sticks to the roof of your mouth like guilty pleasure you can’t spit out And maybe I’ll let it eat me, because being hollow is the closest thing to safe I’ve ever felt. My life is a fine dining experience, each course served is carefully plated, so each flavor and every bite is a reminder of the price I pay for being alive.
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