God, why do you not hear our prayers?
Are you even real?
Do you even care?
Because right now,
People are abandoning you.
Because you refuse to show up for them.
If you want us to believe in you again,
You need to help those who help themselves
And those who cannot help themselves
People had strong faith in you
But now
It's non-existent
It's frowned upon.
I may publish this one on Instagram at a later time, later date, once the environment tension cools down. Or it just may remain in my draft section, never to be read by anyone but me. This poem is pretty heavy with the current political, social environment we're in as a country in the United States and as a planet.
For my next poem, this is a poem of hopelessness and disbelief in romantic relationships. This was just how I was feeling about putting myself back out into the dating poolafter being in a two-year emotionally manipulative and verbally abusive relationship, as well as being in toxic relationships since my teenage years. This one is titled "Love Isn't Real".
You deceived me with mirages
of being a healthy partner.
But you were the opposite--
toxic.
Like a poison.
Giving me sleepless nights
And paranoid thoughts.
Nothing is real anymore,
Not even love.
I may share this on Instagram later. But right now, I just don't want to acknowledge this poem because I am trying to manifest a healthier relationship and focus on me. Mainly focus on me. And I don't want to put out there this hopelessness that I felt. I just wanted to express it.
This next snippet is titled "Don't Matter". I wrote this during a pity party for myself. Because I feel like I just don't matter to anyone. I feel so alone, so isolated, so misunderstood. And I don't think my feelings or anything about me matters to anyone. I wrote this one on the anniversary of my suicide attempt. So yeah, nothing has really changed since the night I tried taking my life. I still don't matter to anyone. Not even my parents.
I don't matter to anyone.
That's the truth--
Cold and hard.
I'm a voicemail that no one checks
A text that's left on read
A party balloon left to deflate in the corner
Forty candles melted
But no one lit them
Just silence and stale air
My feelings don't matter. My work doesn't matter. I don't deserve to take up space like I do. I don't know if I'll ever publish the full poem because it does take a hopeful, positive turn, but this beginning...it can be pretty triggering. And also, certain family members have said that I over-share too much on the internet and it bothers them / embarrasses them.
Now here's a poem I'll gladly share, that I also wrote on the anniversary of my suicide attempt. This is called "She's Not Here Anymore". Content warning: This is a suicidal ideation poem. If any of this triggers you, leave now.
She's Not Here Anymore
By: Samantha Jean Tate
Copyright 2025 Samantha Jean Tate All Rights Reserved.
Has it ever occurred to you,
That I don't want to be here?
I'll breathe for today,
But tomorrow --
I give permission to the universe
To take me out whenever my magical number is called
I'll be ready.
Besides, I've already been gone for a while now.
Yeah, I definitely was feeling heavy feelings. And I had no one to talk to about them. I was just praying to God to take me out of this world. Funny thing, last night, I had a dream I had a heart attack. I think my body is preparing to have one very soon because of all the emotional crap going on in my life currently. If I have a heart attack, I ask to not be recessitated and don't perform open heart surgery. Just let me go. My number has been called.
This next poem I am going to share that I was afraid of sharing, is a rage poem. This was about Justin forgetting my birthday last year. It was my 40th birthday and he didn't tell me happy birthday. "Oh, I was going to tell you later on the phone!". That's his argument. Whatever. He couldn't even send flowers or a birthday card on time. The birthday card got lost in the mail and he couldn't be bothered to send flowers to me or even take time off to come see me.
It's My Birthday By: Samantha Jean Tate Copyright 2024-2025 Samantha Jean Tate. All Rights Reserved.
It’s my birthday!
Did you know it’s a special one?
Probably not—
I didn’t set Facebook to remind the world.
That’s on me.
But you—my lover,
You were supposed to know.
I waited for the words: “Happy Birthday, baby.”
But they never came.
You forgot.
And in that silence, I realized—
Maybe I don’t mean as much to you
As I thought I did.
It’s my motherfucking birthday.
And you forgot.
That’s how I know
It’s time to make a change.
This last snippet is about my 2001 sexual assault/rape/whatever you call forced oral sex and then be threatened. I went into victim blame mode here, feeling like it was my fault and that what happened wasn't really sexual assault/rape. But my therapist Candace, told me it was indeed sexual assault and rape. And that just because I gave in at first and then changed my mind later, doesn't make it not rape or sexual assault. My assaulter/rapist had no right to me after I withdrew consent. It also wasn't right of him at all to threaten to damage my reputation at school and threaten to make my life a living Hell. And the funny thing is, he's still out there lurking, probably hurting other women. I wasn't his first victim. And he was also a victim of sexual abuse/sexual assault from his own family. Still, it doesn't make it right at all. I wish I didn't care so much about people at school finding out and would have let my parents report him and press charges against him like they wanted to when I came in the house with my pants unbuttoned.
This poem, I'm not sure if it will ever be shared publicly. Because I don't want any other victims of rape/sexual assault to go into this mentality loop like I did. I don't even like to talk much about this sexual assault/rape because there's people out there like my ex, Justin, who think I deserved what happened to me because I changed my mind and was "willing" at first. NO IS NO. Even if the woman changes her mind in the middle of the deed. NO IS NO!
Anyway, here's a snippet of that poem. It's titled "Am I Crazy?"
Did it really happen?
Did I misinterpret your intentions?
Did I somehow lead you on?
I liked you
I thought you liked me
I figured you were lustful and wanted my soul
But it turned out you just wanted my body
Or any body
You didn't care whose body it was or the person inside
You had to get your sexual healing through me
When we were alone, I saw the monster that you are
My parents will say that "I knew what I was doing and deserved what happened to me". Yes, I was a promiscuous teenager. I didn't know any better. I feel like I didn't deserve what happened to me. I changed my mind when he asked for oral sex. I said no. Then he threatened me. He forced my head down on his penis and made me. He then made me swallow his semen. And then when he was done, he said "If you tell anyone what happened, I'll make your life a living hell. I'll tell everyone at school what happened. I'll ruin your reputation". I got out of his car, my pants still undone, and I went in the house. He sped off angrily.
Ugh....this is going to be a tough thing to deal with tonight. Probably gonna have to take trazodone's for the rest of this week and next week once this publishes (hello, past me here, writing!).
God I hope my mom and dad skip over this blog post. Yes, they read this blog. But now they may not be very proud of me and my words I shared with you all today. This is me, in my rawest, emotional self. I thank you all for reading. Comments will be turned off for this one. Thank you all for allowing me to be me.
