Becoming trude from the ruins | + Follow Poet |
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That's Not Safe

I swallowed words like razors in the dark,
A thousand cuts across my broken skin,
They told me "silence"—so I hid the spark,
While screaming softly, bleeding deep within.

The mirror lied: it whispered I was whole,
But fractures ran beneath the painted face.
I smiled and nodded, playing the doomed role,
While scars—my silent hymns—betrayed my grace.

They told me love was safe, but it was fire,
A flame that licked and burned my fragile core.
I danced on glass, mistaking wounds for choir,
And sang my pain to walls that asked for more.

Now I refuse the comfort of the lie,
For silence kills, but screaming helps me fly.

Copyright © Becoming trude from the ruins | Year Posted 2025

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Sara Kendrick Date: 6/15/2025 5:46:00 AM Congratulations on your winning work in Miranda's sonnet contest. Way to go. Sara K Login to Reply

Miranda Hawley Date: 6/12/2025 9:57:00 PM Congrats on your win in my contest. This poem is sad, but sometimes that is what poetry is. I wish you best luck on your journey to become whole! Login to Reply Becoming trude from the ruins Date: 6/13/2025 10:29:00 PM Thank you so much, Miranda. That’s Not Safe wasn’t just a poem—it was a wound I shaped into words. I wrote it from the silence I was once forced to swallow, from the pain that hid behind practiced smiles. To have it seen, to have you see it, means more than I can express. Sometimes I wonder if anyone hears the quiet cries between the lines—but your recognition felt like someone whispering back, “I hear you.” That’s rare. That’s healing. Your contest gave my voice a space to exist without apology. And your words? They became something gentle I didn’t know I needed. Thank you for holding space for this kind of honesty—for poems that don’t flinch, even when they bleed. I’m still learning how to become whole. But this moment, your kindness… it’s a piece of that journey.