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Mina Leeper Poem
I hate myself.
I hate myself to the extent where I avoid looking in mirrors,
In fear of the ugly monster that's hiding behind it.
The deformed smile that dares to even grow over its face,
Even though it knows it doesnt deserve it.
The lies of happiness that it goads me into believing,
Only to lure me into a trap that I knew waited at the end of the road.
A pit filled with the unbeckoned rage,
That hides behind that disgusting tilt of the lips.
I hate myself so much that I welcome the imperfections that it graces my skin with.
I hope that one day I’ll return home painted in blacks and blues,
That will eventually fade to ugly yellows and greens.
I welcome the copper that overflows on my skin,
Bright like the steel that it told me to draw with.
But no matter how many times it tells me to do it again,
To cover my canvas of imperfect skin with my beautiful artwork of reds and pinks,
The blemishes and extra folds that I desperately tuck away never leave.
I hate myself enough that I weep with joy when it pulls me into a cold embrace,
Fingers ghosting my eyelids and pulling me back,
Blinding me so I can’t see the way it destroys me.
It intrudes and violates my every pore,
Sinking into me and flooding my senses,
Making it hard to breathe in anything but the vile stench of bitter disgust.
All the repulsive and sickening marks and extra space,
Only intersinfy as it deepens.
And so now I don't just hate myself, I hate It too.
When I look in the mirror it doesn't stare back at me like it once did,
Instead it’s vulgar form looms large behind me,
Draping itself over me like an unwanted blanket on a blistering day.
It directs the madness,
Feeding off of my starved need to be rid of it,
That violently clashed with my desperation for it to stay.
Its want for my pain only grew alongside mine,
And I found solace in its hunger.
Copyright © Mina Leeper | Year Posted 2021
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Mina Leeper Poem
Stripping out of my clothes and standing in the mirror,
Crying over the way my breasts mound,
(For they seem to make eyes stray from my face far too often).
The way my stomach only falls flat when I neglect to eat,
And how it doesn't matter either way,
Because my ribs steadfastly refuse to close.
How I wish they would close in on themselves,
Tucking away and hiding their form from my sights.
(Like a bird might there wings)
This wouldn’t stop them from staring though.
I remember the way he looked at me,
The way his fingers curled into my stomach,
(Or really anywhere he could worm his way too).
Wow, you're so ticklish.
No, maybe I just don't like being touched (by you).
But I’m selfish,
And picky.
I hate how ugly I am,
But I also hate when they stare.
It's never romantic,
(dry of the candle light dinners).
It always seems like there stripping me of my clothes in there minds,
(Stripping me of my dignity?)
But it makes me feel like just maybe,
They have yet to realise how plain I am.
So I strip for these foolish eyes,
Slowly peeling off my respect,
And stepping out of my self love in the sexist way I know how.
Unclipping my virtue,
Letting it drop to the floor.
My confidence is torn off next,
Pulled down my legs and buching around my ankles.
Now I’m laid bare,
My naked body (and soul, and heart I suppose) ready to be taken,
By eyes that might give me the love (though it's not really love) I refuse to give to myself.
Copyright © Mina Leeper | Year Posted 2021
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Mina Leeper Poem
I am the unbroken soul.
You know not of the bodies I've cracked and hammered down to stay alive.
I am a thief,
a master of everyone’s mind but my own.
Plagues sweep the land when I exhale,
and floods rain down poison when I cry.
I flick my fingers forward,
and my monster children are born.
They spread my message to you,
yet still I am overlooked.
You are a witness to the horrors I inflict,
and in turn you mock me with your own petty whines and scratches.
I take your mothers and fathers,
I take your water and food,
but still you cast the blame to someone else.
I stare into your unbothered eyes and spit angry desperation into your face,
but it does not matter.
For I am the one who’s lands and oceans you trample upon,
and I will always be obscure in your gaze.
unseen and unheard,
destined to remain the unbroken soul forever.
- Addiction
Copyright © Mina Leeper | Year Posted 2021
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Mina Leeper Poem
You were the monster under my bed.
When life came knocking at my door,
I bowed down and hid right beside you.
I allowed you to show me your monster ways,
Growing fangs and horns to keep everyone else at bay.
I embraced the euphoric joy you brought me,
And basked in the designation you gifted,
Letting me lay beside you.
The veil you placed over me was too thick to see past,
But I had no interest in doing so anyway.
Why would I?
I was happy for once,
And much too weak to trade my contentment for comprehension.
And I don’t think the great ‘dawning of realization’ ever came.
You were just gone one day,
And I couldn’t figure out why.
I never saw how your words were sharper than the flimsy claws you gave me.
Your protection turned to a mounted attack the moment you left,
And I hadn’t a clue.
My ceiling fell down to crush me,
Stealing the breath away from my lungs as punishment.
A wordless reprimand of pain,
To remind myself of how naive I was.
But if you ever do decide to come back,
Oh and gods I hope you do,
I will welcome you with open arms.
For I am artless and simple,
And will always choose my own selfish desire for bliss.
I would greet you with a banquet if it meant you stayed,
Even just a bit longer,
To let me be at peace with your monster self once again.
Copyright © Mina Leeper | Year Posted 2021
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Details |
Mina Leeper Poem
Her soles are creased with frost,
Her movements ever so silent as she weaves her way through the trees.
The house is bright up ahead,
But she remains a dark omen,
Dreadfully stepping closer,
And closer,
To what might have once been happiness.
His hands are winter bitten and tipped with red,
His voice is snapped in two as he coos to the child.
The house is warm by the fire,
But the body he cradles is cold,
Unmoving in his large arms.
Its crying ceased hours ago,
But still he holds it.
Her delicate fingers shake as she pushes through the wooden door,
Her tear stained eyes search for the familiar bed where she once laid.
The child is swathed in cloth,
But it's fate had already been written in chapped purple lips,
Soft and supple no more.
The mans weeping has only just begun,
For he knows that she comes.
His grip tightens as he tries to stop the shaking,
His wrinkled hands like the roots of a tree around the child.
The child.
For that is what she comes for,
And what he so desperately clings too.
She laments as she lifts it from his arms,
And he bows his head down as they leave together.
Copyright © Mina Leeper | Year Posted 2021
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