My Year in Poetry
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Dear past me, it's future me,
or dear future me, it's past me.
I uphold that despite the untold
striving, pushups, workouts,
No.
Intelligence is strength.
You gain more by being open than by closed.
In the beginning of Twenty-sixteen
it was so hard to find my own Way then
before the coming of all too soon eighteen
In January I had submitted.
A version of myself to people who had never met me. I tried to be the person they wanted me to be, and in the end, I became the person they never wanted.
January was cold.
Weather has never bothered me,
Nor have I worried about freezing,
But I could tell, there was ice somewhere,
Capable of freezing me to the bone in seconds.
I’m finding it rather hard to live with Who I Am.
Especially when Who I Am can be so despicable.
Sometimes, she mentions things I don’t plan on thinking about.
All I want is to speak, but I am afraid what you’ll think of my voice
Instead, I reside to the shadows where I may speak without regret
Burning.
Burning right down to the lungs,
right through every muscle,
every fiber,
every cell.
Give me a year
I'll exploit it.
I will gladly take advantage.
I will stretch
and squeeze it
and slow down
and freeze it
as much as I can manage.
A year is a precious gift
You would think people in college have a passion,
Spending time and money, you feel destined
I pursued and graduated with a BA in fashion,
But alas, my motivation has all but lessen.
Two sparrows collide in mid-air flight,
their wings battered and torn.
I was one watcher then, and now
I saw something I could have sworn.
When you're laughing till you're choking
You can easily swear
That you will wake up
Everyday for the rest of your days
But when you're crying as if you were drowning
And the walls are closing in
A broken head and broken soul
Struggling to make sense.
The past two months took a tole
I feel my body on defense.
As I look to the ones close,
They don't know how to help.
My mom thinks she knows
The person who stands today isn’t the same person who stood a year ago,
A month ago,
Or even just yesterday.
I am constantly being reshaped, reimagined.
As a child, I thought I knew the world.
Now, I know I don’t.
I have learned to fear the unknown,
And as such, I fear for me.
The future of who I will be,
Who I will have become
When people live for decades
It’s hard to understand
How much one is impacted
By one short year
The past year’s been crazy
In my eyes, the world has grown
Satisfied with being owned
“Who cares?” is the phrase of choice
We have a say, but not a voice
Our minds are but the mirrors of
My year
My year?
A roller coaster taking a nose dive off a pier.
I've lost some,
Far and near.
Some close and dear.
But I persevere
I ask myself, why am I here?
Promised Land
it was midnight
on a windswept
friday,
early july,
when i realized
that my entire
nation was
a hand-me-down,
a last-minute
Mamá always lied to herself
I used to think she lived
covered in a silk of illusion,
distancing herself from her thoughts–
measuring happiness with grains of rice.
Twenty. It’s not a hard burden to bear.
But bent steel is never the same.
Be it from six years ago
or six days ago,
bent steel is never the same.
The fear from the robber’s machete…
You were always there
To imagine life without you was impossible
Because it was all I ever knew
So now that things are different
I have learned how to appreciate
She'll never get anywhere the way she acts, they all say.What's her problemShe thinks she's to good, they all whisper.It's all about her
The difference that love can make
Could shift tectonic platesThe difference between
Hot and cold
Fear and relieve
Change is inevitable
It can haunt us
Like a demon in the night
You can try and take flight
But somethings you must grow with
From years of being a witness
To the abuse, it was all a mess
5…4…3…2…1…The ball is down2015 is in the rearview mirrorWelcome 2016“New Year, New Me”The meaningless phraseThis time is differentThis time, it will be a new Me
One day
the truth hit me,
I was becoming an adult.
Scared of everything,
wasting time,
failing,
and that one day my struggle
would yield no fruit.
That was yesterday's me.
look down
up
not good enough
your thighs too flabby
stomach always overstuffed
an apple for lunch
see it's not so tough
good
don’t you feel better now?
look down
You always found writing as a form of comfort,
and that is something that we still share in common.
Nothing is more cathartic than intertwining ink and paper into a beautiful ballad
This year has been incredibly difficult to me
This year I have had tumultuous struggles that arrive in three's...
I have conquered my fears and reached for the stars,
This year has been an abundance of scars.
I don’t remember January.
I came into this year terrified,
A friend about to commit suicide.
Tears, tears
Are all January brought.
Starched straight dress with shiny new heels
My reflection stares back at me
Shiny dark tresses and sharply lined eyes
Is this who I want to be?
A year closer to adulthood
My life is traveling to the predictable destination
of debt and disappointment.
Trying to go to college with no money to pay for it,
getting email after forsaken email about
It’s common sense to understand that no one can be the same person they were a year ago, I mean, it is possible, but highly unlikely. But myself, I am basic.
–oh, I’m so sorry
It’s not like that, you see,
because when you traditionally think of people dying,
(especially the old, especially the sick)
I spend my days longing and striving for a perfection,I know I can never reach.I spend my nights planning for the day to come,Making goals I'll never meet.I feel I am accepting of others and their beliefs,Given they respect my own.I'm not very wel
And it all began with the realization,
that I'm not a kid anymore.
Ive spent much time in contemplation,
looking to become something more.
The year began itself unlike any other.
It began with the eagerness of hope,
the longing, burning, raging need to reach
the unattainable—that gift which I
never thought I would call my own. There were
scars still, written across my arms like a
You reach for the knife, slide it in deep enough to cut, and reveal the contents inside of a card.
Those dreadful words, "Thank you for applying we are sorry...." You set the card aside along with the rest.
Twenty one, both young and dumb
full of love counted by the stars above,
endless hope lead to the wedding day
but the cost of dope lead her astray.
the change came quick from a boy to a man
Who was I a year ago?
Am I the same person now?
A year ago I was a mess,
I wasn't happy, I was confused.
I had good times and bad times.
But I wasn't confident, brave, or open.
Am I the same?
No, of course not.
I've changed and battled
Become much better.
I've faced my share of struggles
my demons and my fears.
But I come out even stronger
emerging from my tears.
