Children are...
rather innocent creatures
Or at least,
I,
in my protected, childhood of fairy tales
Princesses and superheroes and talking frogs
Was
My third grade diary when asked to name something precious
-Family
Unlike toys unbreaking
Keeps you happy and safe
Rather,
precocious I was at that
but still too much
-Naive

As I still am,
of course
See, the thing about adolescence
Is
Hormones raging, from crushes to bullying to acting out
The time when we
              Think
We're out of the                     Naive
                  Quite dangerous, really
Since, we're really Not

A whole butload of
                         "adult"
                               stuff I'll probably
Be subject to and
May have been earlier if not for
My reclusive tenancies
and lazy ways
and protected life


I say it,
In a careless manner
Trying to look cool, even in poetry
But, like, it's going to happen
I'm going to come face
to face
Have to make
a choice
And it's nothing to be intimidated about
I tell myself
Still,
Truly a question
to consider,

I'm assuming,
one day I'll mature
And when that day comes...

Will I still be the little girl
With the two bouncing pigtails
Scrunched up face
Pencil too tight grip
Recreating
Oval eyes, smiley lips, long hair
My nth drawing of a girl?

Mind uncluttered
with what could be
         what should be
         what would be
Only, what is
And what I want

Hmm...
But as the clock strikes twelve another day has gone by
and it's well past time for me to go to bed
Another year, past
More time gone by
More memories to reminisce about
But...
Also more to look forward to

The golden baby
In the last slice of Mardigras cake

A half dollar
Well after they stopped being printed

A rare right sided conch
When most others are left

Are the rare treasures I find buried underneath

The glass bird
Dainty as can be
And the size of a nail

The miniature tea cup
A full set
Spoon and all

The Minni and Miki
Mouse holiday wear
mini collectibles

Miniature Kitty Kat
Pouches
In four different colors

Are the tiny bobbles I couldn’t bear to part with

The multitudes of dice
From classic six sided
To 8 To 12
Even dice in dice
More than can be counted

Erasers by the gazillions
Stingrays, baseball gloves
Eraser pencils with missing erasers
And a baby head detached from the body

Keychains, by the plenty
Sunglasses, Weapons
Dream catchers, bird’s with bells, all sorts
Of strange and curious oddities attached to a chain

Coins, many sizes countries
Fake, real
Dinar, Rupee, Euro, dollar,
Replica of ancient yuan

Jewelry-
Don’t even get me started
Necklaces, bracelets
Rings and earrings
Even though my ears aren’t pierced!

My hoarding tendencies coming to light in this
Curious collection of collections
Also known as
The objects in my closet

“Well...”
A dry voice echos
Of course I wear tennis shoes
On the day they’ll grow wet enough
To go squeak
Squeak squeaking around
The shiny white floors

While my dark hair quickly
Becomes flecked with
White speckles

I feel rather
Like a scarecrow
Doing my best to resist
Nature’s whims
Fighting a losing battle
An inescapable fate

Of being blown away
And buried
In the snow

Shall I leap
Or step back

Retain the blanket of security
Or explore the uncharted waters of uncertainty

Say what comes will come,
Or grasp the minimal control

Free fall?
Or use the stairs?

One is riskier,
The other is safer,


Obviously


Then, she says something to me
that makes me realize
my foolishness

We're in the age of computers and technology
If I'm facing a risky proposition,

Why not look it up?

Have you ever felt like
you're walking through
a cloud?

The noise surrounds
but doesn't
touch
you'r enclosed
but separate figure

In,
but out

The colors,
within your vision
but               a blur
Once again,
Around,
But

Her gaze
naturally passes
By, his voice
directed
Some where else

Around,
But not to
Inside
But more like
Out

Walking
              
                through
                              a
                                cloud

I internally sneered
at her disjointed manner

Externally cheerful
but actually proud that I wasn't her

Acting like her friend
But only, when it was convenient or I felt pity

Seeming to mind my own business
But chastising her inside

I wondered what was going on
Everything she did
wasn't malicious
She simply didn't know
But why did I act the way I did
...
But today I understand
She and I,
are one and the same

I have a friend
She has a prickly
Exterior
Lashing out at
Others
First

Last year
She god a pet
Hedgehog
...
It died two weeks later


Sometimes the shield we put up
Hurts us
The
Most

Sometimes,
I just fake it
Cause
It’s easier

Yes,
The test was hard
Even though,
I got a 98%

Yes,
He has a bad personality
Even though,
He’s been nothing less
Than polite
To me

Yes,
She’s so amazing at it
Even though,
I’m not too far behind

Yes,
Their relationship is going to fail
Even though,
I think it’s rude
To gossip
Behind their
Backs


These things...
And more,
It doesn’t
Change
Anything
Even if I explain
Will people even listen?
Care?

So...
I let it be
It’s             Easier
I mean,
Not when it directly hurts
Others
I do have a bottom line

But otherwise...
With shades of gray
Difficult,
To differentiate
Between
  Right
Wrong
  Good
Bad

...

I guess...
I’ll let it be

After all,
It’s


Easier?

Today’s thanksgiving
So I figured,
Perfect day to give thanks
To a few people,
Mind you,
This isn’t in order,

1) my little brother
For lighting up my life
Letting me
Become a Candice
Or Peppa pig
Or any one of those
Big Sisters
I no longer carry envy for

2) The dad who
Has given me a mix
Of his
Extreme childish-
(He’s calling me now to make a turkey out of pistachio shells)
Temperament
Yet contrasting
Acedemicly telented
Stern demeanor
While pushing my brother and I
And having high experctations while giving
Us the freedom
To forge our own path

3) The mother
Who is so enthusiastic
Talkative, sharing with me
The habit of
Binging on chocolates
Whose nagging
Has propelled me
To do things
I would
Have never
Seen myself
Do

4) The best friend
Who’s probably currently
On Assasin’s Creed
Or some other video game
Besides Fortnite
Which she insists doesn’t have a
Good story line
Whose milder temperment
Puts up
With my overly excitable
One
And who strongly stands
For what’s right
Following her dream
Of being a police
Officer
Despite condemning politics as
Boring

5) The three friends
Who stayed in touch
After elementary school
Who filled
My days with pretending
To be Elemental Mages
Reenact the Hunger Games
Warrior Cats
Although no one ever listened
When I was the medicine cat!
Who gave me an outlet
For my quirky
Book loving
Personality

6) The three friends
At my current school
Who,
Despite splits
Break ups
And an occasional
Difficulty finding
Camaraderie
Were the first
Friends
Of mine
At this school
And my anime pals
And for my years of
Middle school
Kept me
Sane

At this point I could probably start going off on
The tmpermental grandma
Who called my nose big
And whom I was mildly averse
(For good reason)
Until I saw a photo
Of her smile,
Holding me as a baby

Or the pink heart shaped flowers
That I’d look forward to
Every spring
Until our newly constructed sun room
Destroyed them

And on
  And on
     And on

But nah,
Those were some of my top ones
Thanks for reading!

I heard some guy
Say
“People with ADHD will be good at poetry cause random things pop in their heads”
And...
That got me thinking
what...
Makes someone good at poetry?
Is it, as he believed
     Thoughts
               Scattered
       With              No
            Rhyme           Or
    Reason?

Or it is...
That we have,    A unique way
To looking at      Things
A different         Perspective
Which may often be
RepressedRepressedRepressedRepressedRepressedRepressed

Or at least,
Being easily misunderstood
We just need
          An
                              Outlet?

Or we just like words?
And patterns
And sounds
Oh well,

I’ve often wondered
About this
Stereotype
That poets are
B
     R
  O
      K
E
      N

It’s not true,
We’re not even different
We’re just people who have something
In common
That brings us together
In this
...
I’m just not certain...
If there is,
Something,
...What?

“Ought”
Ought to do
What a strange word indeed
Very different
From “will”
Will do
Rather like it’s
Parent
Following behind      the child
Stubbornly refusing the jacket
They
     “Ought”
To wear

It’s     Odd...
I’ve been all over the couch
Munching on anything
Sour
Sweet
That gets
Within         My line of sight
          CRUNCH
    MUNCH
Gone
  

   But now,
Lying here
Strewn on the floor
Like a broken toy
I       Feel



            Strangely


At peace

I’m meeting a friend tomorrow, one I haven’t seen in some years save for the incidental meeting a week ago that sparked this reunion

My thoughts,      Reminiscent, tinged with melancholy for that time dotted with puffs of whip cream, sugar, sparkles, and joy spilling from the sky

We were mages one moment,
The elements at
Our beck and call
With a flick of our hands

Warrior cats the next
Loyally guarding
Bravely scarring

We lives in our world of monsters, and magic, and peach fuzz

None of the extra complications, the insecurities, the splotches marring our once vibrant and lovely canvas, turning it from a rainbow sparkle unicorn pony...to a mare

More time for text books
         Less time for novels
More time for homework
         Less time for TV
More time for crushes and heartbreak and insecurities and tears
          Less time to run straight ahead without a care in the world

Reality, setting in like large boulders, so heavy and present, jutting into your life, impossible to unsee


But,

It’s not all planes crashing and burning, because now that she’s no longer made up into a sparkle pony, you can see the mare for the

beauty she is

I'm a little
-
scared

To open up that
box

That desire
A never dulling     -
fire

How to keep it-
at bay

The desire to       excel      exceed        
Ambition

A calm,
avoidance
denial
SO
   Much
         easier
But,
Should           I
Open this





Pandora's
        box?

Hey, past me from so close yet seeming long ago...

A knot from my sweater's bow I regret tying despite how unkempt the ribbons look hanging by my sides because now it's digging into my back

The hair I can't decide if I want out where it's pretty and makes me look less like a generic nerd yet gets in my face and food and life

The jeans I insist upon wearing without a belt even though their slipping down my **** may actually outweigh the pain of loosening the belt

The tennis shoes I'm too attached to give up that emit a constant squeak, squeak, squeaking through the hallways whether it's caused by residual rain from outside or not

The glasses, fond of slipping down my nose at frequent intervals, covered in smudges I rarely notice till they get out of hand

The phone whose screen happened to crack at the most inopportune moment and takes forever to read my finger print

The jacket that should be a highlighter blue but rather presents itself as a canvas of the week's tomato stains

The face covered in acne-
The stomach with fat instead of muscle-
The arms lacking muscle-
The legs with too much hair-

I've always acknowledged that perfection is not possible, yet I have to at least try to strive

I think, as I sit at my desk, fingers typing fragmented sentences, attempting to convey thoughts speeding too fast to grasp

Yet, just a simple poem of reflection brings to light these numerous deficiencies, many of which I COULD fix were it not the invisible fiend upon whom I stamp the label-laziness

These deficiencies, many of which aren't even noticed by those around me, some of whom are better some are worse

But it's not as simple as that, I've known I can't just be "one of the people", I need to find something, some identity, some way out of my seemingly impossible to escape label of "just above average"

In academics, in extracurricular activities, EVERYTHING, I seem to be at a stagnant

I've done bad, I've done "just above average", but never above. What is the point if you get plenty of losses and plenty of "fine" but no victories?

It's something about me though, somehow I believe, subconsciously, I'm impeding myself. I'm holding myself back.




...



Why?

Rather to be...
A big          fish
In a           small pond
Or small        fish
In a         big pond
I've come across this question
a        lot

Whether to be a lead        in the middle school play
Or an extra    in the high school play

To be top of          JV
or to be bottom of  Varsity

To get A's in           regular math
Or B's in accelerated

To be the best         of the worst
To be the worst         of the best

Is a question,
I'm
Still
Grappling             with

Some say to fear the dark
Yet, unlike day
It offers a sense of comfort
Enveloped within
A blanket of invisible space
Free from searching eyes
And the terrifying
spotlight

Happy, warm, safe
In my couch
Borrowing
Deeper
Into soft
Fluffy
     Floating
          Rather
On
  A
   Cloud
Quite      nice
     No obligations
Just
    Flight
My mind         drifts                        away
And my body,
An
    Empty
         Vessel

Awwww, you're so pure?
Why,        IS it
I                           insist                               upon
complimenting
my                   friends
and they cannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnot
take it
at                all?
I'm dubbed                                   pure
                                          innocent
                                   sweet
                                         How
                                  come?
Am
    I
      just
            a people
                      pleaser?
Terrified                            of                    social       rejection
so I try too hard
to be
that                                                 "nice"
girl
But,                      is she me?
Actually?
                                Cause,
                                          I do see the good
                                                               in others
                                         And the
                                                       bad
            Letting one out
Keeping the other
In         secure
In
Criticisms layered,                       with little
flowers
       Revealed
                   as soft
and mushy
            No hard edges
    Overly soft,
As if one               were                     protecting                  
                             a child





But,



Is
  It
    Me?

Throwback to middle school
We were dorks
Who didn’t care

Now,
We do
And they try
I don’t
I’m
Just
Lazy

There’s all that
“The best smile is natural”   But people
Still wear it
Even when they         Preache


Now,
There’s nothing wrong
Makeup,
Highlights certain
Features
Gives a new look
Cleaner
Prettier

And aesthetics
Are valued
In our
Society

But
Is it I sign
Of insecurity if it’s
Worn every day?

Or is it just like
Clothes
Wear whatever
You want
And shape your
Identity?

I don’t
Want to judge
I don’t mean
To judge
There’s no need
To judge

They only reason
I don’t wear
It is
Because
I’m
Lazy

Is it really though?
Or is it,
That I don’t care?

Our society has
An obsession     With
“Natural”
And
“Beauty”


Which one matters more?
I guess...
It’s up to the
Individual

What is,
A Crush?

Seeing yourself
In someone else
Noticing their flaws,
And finding them,
Cute?

Noticing someone
Who fits your image
Of a stereotypical,
Prince
Princess
Boy next door
Cute girl
Hot guy/girl?

Someone who,
Makes you roll
On the floor in laughter
Who can,
Always incite a smile
On the worst of days?

There’s plenty
More I could name
But I dunno
...
What is a Crush?

When I'm on a field
I can be free

When I'm with my family
I can be free

When I'm with little children
I can be free

When I write
I can be free

...

But when I'm anywhere else
I'm constrained by
a cage known as-
self consciousness
social anxiety
shyness
She comes by many names
...

By any chance,
are you familiar with her?
I’m sure you are

You may have met her,
In JK,
When you found out there’s a difference
Between a boy
And a girl

You may have met her,
In the playground
When you were
The only one
Who though
Playing
“Fashion show”
Was
Stupid

You may have met her
When that annoying
Red head
Kept saying
Ewwwwww
Whenever
Your underwear
Showed
During P.E.

You may have met her
In middle school
When you had your
First crush
But everyone insisted
You liked
His
Best
Friend

You may have met her
When every one
Of your friends
Was in
Accelerated
But you
Couldn’t wrap
Your head
Around
Rational functions

You may have met her
When every one of your friends
Had success branded
On their foreheads
With their futures
Straight through
A paved road
While you
Were left
A forest
To
Traverse

You may have met her
In any number
Of places
With any number
Of people
With any number-
…
Everywhere…
Even in the sock
You forgot had a hole
In it,
And wore to school
…
Now,
She’s obviously
Everywhere,
So you can’t ignore her
Hating on her,
Just makes
You hate yourself
So…
..
…
….
Why not become her friend?

A glance
The little black figures
words
lines
of endless text
pass me by
my eyes
seeing nothing
but little
black
lines
shapes
dots
stripes
crosses
...
A stick
slathered in
nutella
chocolate, and hazelnut
the sweet
makes
me
numb
The crunch makes me
succumb
...
The sounds
pelting me
commands
inquiries,
things to do
things to hear
So
Much
Noise
Information
being blown away
in the wind
past my
unresponsive
ears
A lone
buzz takes
over
...
The sprite
gluggs down
my
esophagus
Burns
my lungs
A crinkle
from the now,
empty
bottle
...
The led
****** my fingers the
keys click clikety click as I
tap tapety tap
poke
****
the computer keys the
piano keys
ting
tingety ting
as I push
press
Smooth
that little piece of dirt I
rub rub Rub RUB
scratch SCRATCH
...
The frozen
unbelievable painfully
sweet sweetness
numbs my
tongue
cream
cold as
ice freezes
my brain
My brain
My brai
My bra
My br-
My b-
B-
b-
B-
bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb
...
...
...
Envelop­ed
in a blanket of
sweetness
my tongue is all I know
as I
Binge
To
Ecstasy

I just realized,
I have a painting of
A pineapple
In my room
Made by
Yours truly

I have a pineapple
Hat bought on a whim
At Walmart
Last year

I have a newly bought
Pineapple
Backpack
Because of
The sheer
Randomness

I nearly googled pineapple
I used to watch Sponge Bob
(For those of you who don’t know, he lives in a pineapple)
...
...
...
I don’t even eat pineapples that much
...
...
What’s going on?
...
I think multiple
Sets of coincidences
Became a serious
Thing
..
.
..
But I don’t have a pineapple obsession!
.........
......
...
Do I?

Sometimes
I wonder,
If we could just open
Ourselves completely
To someone
And have them
Understand
Our very essence
Our very being
To
Truly know
Us
...
...
...
...
...
I’d hate it

I,
Am my
Home
My mind
Is my
Abode

I don’t want anyone
To have that power
Over me

Nor do I want
To have that power
Over others

I love myself
As difficult
As I can be
...
When all is lost
No matter
How broken
Bent
Ruined
Intact
I will have myself
I will ALWAYS,

Well, maybe not when we
Invent mind controllers

But,
I will ALWAYS
HAVE MYSELF

Me,

This moldable piece of clay
Everything here,
Good
Or bad
Weird
Or cool
Although, not permanent
Ever changing
Is mine
Is what I’ve got
...
...
...
And I’ll take it

He
And me
We both debate
The only two
To do that type
In our school

Yet...
I’m
Always
One
Step
Behind

He always advances
I don’t
We win the same number
But different points
...
He just has
So
Much
Confidence

I just...

I want-need-to improve
To beat him!

An inferiority complex?
Perhaps
But,
But,
Butbutbutbutbut-

I
Want
To
Win

My mom got me a pair
of blue jeans
I never used to wear
Buttoning and zipping
was a pain

Then we got a dress code
And jeans
Only,
I could wear
But not blue
Too casual

And so they sat forgotten
...
Until a few years later
In a rush
I grabbed something
to wear
and it was
...
...
...
My blue jeans

I find...
I,
enjoy making fun
of myself
...
pulling out my flaws
and
like colorful balloon animals,
twisting them
into wacky creations
shapes
to laugh at

-Not me
the flaw
to see how silly I can
be

But what scares me
is,
does this
hint
at another flaw
I
seem
to
have?

My parents...
are immigrants
Yet, why is it I,
so strongly
reject
their once,
homeland?
...
Perhaps,
the cause
it rooted at
my dad's cynical
comments
and critics
...
Perhaps,
it's my own visits
stifling relatives
horrible traffic
definitely
less, comfortable
...
Maybe,
it's the rejection
of such a gripping
religion
when I myself,
am an atheist
...
Maybe it's
the stereotypes
Chaining me
enclosing me
irritating me
...
...
...
Whatever the case,
it's there

I can be whoever I want to be
what-blood-crap?

Go far back enough,
and we're all related

The only links I have,
are my visits
and influence
of my parents
who once lived there
...
It's not a bad place...
at all...
...
That's not the problem
...
Is there one even?
...
...
...
I,
can be
who
I want
to
be

Being frank here,
I think a lot

And I think about
my thinking

And I have a unique way of thinking
as do most people

But I combine my thoughts
with analogies
I conceive through
my creativity
And weave them
into words

Which I have learned to love
through my obsessive reading
in my elementary
school
days
...
That's it
I haven't read
enough official
published
poetry

I don't really
edit my
poetry
much

I don't overthink
it
too much
either

Just my thoughts,
on a lonely page
...
...
...
I've wondered time
and time again,
is this even
poetry?

My thoughts
carved with
a
choppy
cleaver

Rough on the edges
with spots of
honesty

As well as
parts,
as smooth and cold
as marble
The honesty hidden
beneath
eloquence
analogies
other distractions
evasions
...
when the truth
is too much

But it's still me on the page
...
...
But what I can't figure out
is,
do I do it
for social approval?
To be heard?
To spill out my emotions?
To make something beautiful?
...
Just cause?

A wintry night
the wind swirls around
...
...
...
blowing my questions
away with a chill...

I had two options
I could have taken
The smart way out
Actually
Do something useful
...
Instead,
I took the fool’s way out
I ran
Giving it my all
Feet pumping
Mind soaring with
A thousand hopes
And dreams
...
And I dove for those dreams
Getting down and *****
Even if it was,
A fool’s errand
In the end