A Poem by Jessica Harmony

It's doesn't have an ending yet... still working on this....


You would have thought I would know the whole alphabet by now but

L-O-V-E is hard to spell

Just like B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L

I was never taught that these words put together had a definition of self worth.


Was always objectified

So I can spell nice A-S-S

But if you asked me to spell my name I’d tell you w***e.


And I can tell you what it feels like to have to try to be Barbie

But she

Is unrealistic

And even if she wasn’t she probably had some f*****g dignity

Take it from me

The feeling of being left in the morning is never worth the orgasm of the night before.


And no matter how many times you carve it into your skin

You will never win

Back pride, back wholeness, back to being the girl who didn’t know this.

So he said to me yeah, but w***e’s get paid.

You’re just a S**T.

So I wrote that in blood too.

Funny how I could write a better poem with a razor than a pencil but,

I’m trying to change that,

Change facts,

Like, maybe I wasn’t pretty enough for him,

Or maybe he just doesn’t love me,

Told me none of that’s true but I will never believe it.

Relieve it with cuts.

But I’m trying not to relapse into something where other people’s words leave me with scars and them with nothing.


He said he didn’t even remember what they said to me.

Changed my life forever but he had no memory.

Funny how that could kill me and they would never know.


Sticks and stones can’t even break your bones

But words can f**k with you


And I can tell you firsthand,

Telling someone they’re ugly doesn’t make you any more beautiful.


But you can’t let it define you,

Remind you


That you are never good enough.

Because you are.

You are not self harm.

You are not any of the words they picked from the dictionary to define you.

You can write your own damn definition.

And tell Merriam-Webster to f**k off with words like s**t because you are simply



And listen,

You will never be fulfilled by their words

If you let them inject the poison there is no antidote.

Or at least if there is, you’re gonna have to do some f****n’ searching.

After three years I’m still aching,


Trying to remember that I am

Achingly beautiful, truly gorgeous

And w***e

Has been stuffed at the bottom of my sock drawer

With words like piece of s**t, never good enough, never want to see you again,

Tell me how to mend

When your own mother tells you she hopes you die.

When she tells you you are worthless.

But I am worth it.

The image of beauty to me was never someone perfect.

I just want to be beautiful.

Not hot or sexy.

If all you want is to sleep with me you have f*****g hands, and porn.

My vagina is not just an object for you to jerk off with.


Maybe I’m wrong.

Because that’s what most women are taught.

That they can be used, and sleep with any guy that makes them feel pretty

For a night.


If we actually taught our women that gorgeous defines everyone we wouldn’t have this goddamn problem!


Is it so bad to want to feel wanted?

Even if for all the wrong reasons?

My body is not a tendril

My body is a temple

And I’m not even religious,

But it’s gonna take a lot more than prayer and a couple beers to get in this.




© 2013 Jessica Harmony

My Review

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You`ve shown me a film of your real life through this story. It`s quiet personal stuff of yous, you`ve intellectually expressed the awful time of your life penning down such words of faith. In this sinister life, you just find "FORSAKEN-FAITH." Love`s been gone from this world but yeah, it`s still around all of us, we only have to recognize it through the bared eyes of magnetism. I love the title .. and the words are written with your heart. Keep writing!

Posted 6 Years Ago

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1 Review
Added on April 21, 2013
Last Updated on April 21, 2013


Jessica Harmony
Jessica Harmony

Denver, CO

Just another number, darling. Nothing to the world. Bet I'm a statistic, baby. Just the broken girl. I'm 17. I love to write poetry and i'm currently writing a novel. Most of my poems on her.. more..


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