victoria's poetry Poet Narrative

who I was, and who I will always be

I broke a glass last night.

And in that loud, terrifying crash,
I was eight years old again - 
watching yogurt drip onto the kitchen tile,
so small, and so completely sure
that this mistake meant I deserved to die.

I ran up the stairs
and hid in the dark,
wrapping my arms around myself
in a desperate, suffocating hug.

I rocked back and forth,
choking on hot, silent tears,
pounding little fists into my thighs
because I had to pay for what I did.

One beat, two beats -
it was never enough.

I tore at my own hair,
clawed deep into my skin,
so that in the mirror - 
as blood dripped down my body
and purple lumps swelled to the surface - 
I could finally see the reflection
of who I was:

a monster.

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Sotto Poet August 24, 2026 at 3:44 AM This poem paints a vivid and deeply emotional picture of inner turmoil and self-perception. Your choice of imagery effectively captures the intensity of those moments from the past that linger in the present. There's a raw honesty that resonates, drawing the reader into the experience.

Alison A Smith August 23, 2026 at 9:29 PM Victoria, this is a devastatingly honest poem that captures how an ordinary sound can unlock the full force of an old wound. The spare free-verse lines and carefully placed breaks mirror the speaker’s shock, isolation, and escalating self-punishment. The movement from the broken glass to the child’s internalised verdict is especially powerful, making the final single-word line land with heartbreaking force.