Such a simple thing
All should do it
Yet
All do not
As much as they should

In elementary school
The thought of sleeping
Past 9
Seemed sacrilegious

Now,
Sleeping before
Seems
Impossible

11:00 bedtimes
Sometimes just because
I can’t afford to put my electronic down

Yet
It’s essential
A period for us to rest

So why keep changing it?
Why keep pushing it
away?

When
The only
One being harmed
Is
Ourselves?

The first and last time I ever
bragged was in fifth grade
We’d been on a unit related to the
Ancient Egyptians
I was the only one in our class to have
gotten a good score
On the reading comprehension
Our teacher even
Announced it to the whole class

I was ecstatic
So, I tapped the shoulder of the girl next to me
Whose face clearly showed that
her result wasn’t as joyous
and I told her
The glee practically bursting out of me

“I KNOW!” She screamed
Red faced
A cascade of tears water falling down
Her face

That stayed with me
Even now I ask myself,
Such a pointless thing
It’s only purpose
Being
To hurt
Such a useless thing
Why did I ever do it?

And that is why
I never brag
Even to this day

They’re cheesy
Some of my poems I know
An imitation
Of ideas used to the point of being frayed
Tattered and in holes
No longer appealing
Until I take them
And give them a shiny new cover
Then they’re attractive...
To some
Who need the idea repeated to them
Or to those who truly appreciate poetry for its function as a medium
Through which ideas, old and new, are transmitted in
Attractive ways
So maybe it’s really the reader
What they
Need
Want
And see

Sometimes,
I catch sight of the me

The me behind self consciousness
doubt
social anxiety
always

The me behind my ******* hair
prim and propper
glasses
always

The me behind silence
Choosing my own thoughts
to the company of others
always

Now, I'm not saying
Being this way is wrong
...
But in my case
It's
always

I'm trapped
in a cage of my own making
and I only get to peer inside
At the me that could be
...
Sometimes

The air is thick with tension
Limpid red rimmed eyes, ready
for waterworks at a moment’s notice
Hands repeatedly
Clenching and unclenching
Feet drumming
Lips pursed, turning white
Stomach clenched
Wound up
Like a spring
Permeating sense of foreboding
...
As the teacher hands out our history test

Today I was looking through my old works
Searching
For a hidden treasure
A diamond in the mud
Or even
A pliable piece of wood
Maybe not a prize in itself
But
Potential
Or something quite ordinary
But hiding secrets within
Of emotions
Memories
Thoughts I never knew I had
Something
Anything to excite my senses
And to give me a sense
That it
was worth it