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521 · Oct 2018
So True
Anya Oct 2018
I,
Over
Analyse
Over
Strategize
Over
Fantasize
It popped into my head and it's so true.
Anya Aug 2018
I’m an embarrassment to my name
I’m a ****** all the same
I could sing this every day
Not really
Just kidding
I’m not so negative
Or at least I don’t allow myself to be
They’re just excuses
Used to cover up
Mistakes
Embarrassments
Make myself feel better about
My failures
But I know they’re not really true
At least,
They’re not what I truly believe
517 · Dec 2018
Mascot Words
Anya Dec 2018
There are certain words...
Like, depression
Cancer
That become the mascot
For their particular affliction
An all encompassing bubble,
Hepatoma,
Doesn’t mean much
But liver cancer, now that’s a whole nother matter

Just simply using the word
Gives rise to panic.         Anxiety
It makes sense,
That non experts can’t know every type of
Illness or mental disorder out there
So they associate it with a mascot

But,
It’s all the unessesary hype
And fear
The baggage that comes with it
Not as many, knew about zeka
But Ebola?
That was all over the news
Despite being far less of a threat
Simply because,
It became the mascot
516 · Sep 2018
Hungry for more Likes
Anya Sep 2018
hungry
Hungry
HUNGRY

For more appreciation
From society

Till society forgets you
And you just
Melt
...
Into
...
Nothingness


Love yourself for who you are,
Not what others think of you
Anya Apr 2021
Most of what I wrote here is from two
or three years ago
Two years ago when I was the girl
who dripped anxiety like a leaky faucet
And poured all the excess into her poems
like little sticky notes detailing the confusions
and little joys of life

Now,
Now I'm still a confused, anxious girl
but maybe I can fake it better?

Or maybe I really have grown
So that I no longer need the multicolored sticky notes
Dotting my life
Where I can hold it in
or let it out more constructively

Constructively?
Is poetry not constructive?
Or is it my biases again
idk idk idk

I spoke to an old friend the other day
I have a poem about them
There's another girl I never speak to
but back when I wrote about her she was my friend

I don't know where I'm going
and these poems remind me where I've been

For that matter I don't know where I am
Not enough
Not where I should be
Yet
But yet has yet to arrive and
       seemingly
n
        e
                  v
                             e              r                    
                                                                ­will
...
I'm rambling aren't I?
Well,
The gist of it is
I am somewhere else, not where I was
Nor am I where I should be where I want to be where I ought-
I have a poem about ought don't I?

For those of you who've actually made it to this point in the poem
I applaud you
Because I don't know where I'm going
or where I am
But my poetry seems to be showing me where I've been

Stop
STOP
Enough says the me that insists everything must be productive
There's no point
There's no point!
You're not a poet,
You're just a girl who is supposedly an adult
Ha
Ha ha
What a joke

Is the self deprecation necessary?
             Is it though?
                 Or is it simply a tool to hide my anxiety
                             under a blanket
Can't I just appreciate what I have? Who I am? But
I'm not good enough
            not nearly good enough

The other day I wrote a sorry essay
        apologizing for all my shortcomings

Don't get me wrong
I love my self                       You'd better too    love yourself that is   It's important
But                 I don't seem                              good                     enough

Sigh

Yes, I verbally said the word sigh
I'm still rambling, aren't I?
Because I don't know where I'm going
nor where I am
But I do now know where I've been
      and I suppose it's just a matter of moving from there

I may take baby steps,
                 like a waddling penguin
But so long as I know where I've been
I can keep on moving
so that I can grow

One day my wings will open huge and wide
One day
One day I will no longer be that anxious little girl
One day
Why not today?
Because today's not that day
But, one
                 day
It'll happen
and if it doesn't...

I guess I'll still be chasing that one day
Because I don't know where I'm going
or even where I am
But I do know where I've been because I write about it in little sticky notes called poems
This started out as a reflection, it wandered around a bit, and it finally turned into a piece about the importance of poetry.
514 · Sep 2018
Mom
Anya Sep 2018
Mom
Lips pursed
Blatant irritation
Eyes flickering, like little fireflies
Shining a spot light
On every little piece of dust
Remotely out of place
In my room
509 · Nov 2018
Obviously
Anya Nov 2018
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?
Sometimes we make a big deal out of nothing.
507 · Jun 2019
Chainsaw
Anya Jun 2019
If I hacked my braids off
would my inhibitions go with it?
Anya Sep 2018
Our task in class
was
to draw really
depressed people
for a competition
...
I wanted to draw
a really
really
sad
child
...
Chubby
drooping cheeks
Soft
flawless skin

She said no
...
...
...
Instead,
I get to draw
an old person
...
which is fine
But,
...
the WRINKLES
HOW am I to draw
perfectly
EVERY SINGLE
LITTLE
WRINKLE?!
And especially
a value scale
of shading
as well
while
ACCOUNTING
FOR EVERY WRINKLE?!
...
See,
the issue
isn't that
I am unwilling to draw
BUT
But
...
I, consider myself
at big picture person
NOT as much detail oriented

I, consider myself
someone
who relies
at least half
if not more on
creativity
NOT to say
that I lack
technical skill

BUT,
my strong suit
would be
the idea

Now,
she's challenging me
by giving me a simple idea
And having the key portion
be the
execution
...
According to my mom
it's a good thing
...
...
And I agree too,
but...
...
Ugh,
I suppose I'd better go draw
502 · Aug 2018
Yummy yummy
Anya Aug 2018
Yummy yummy
In my tummy
Till I’m full
And then it’s crummy
500 · Nov 2018
One and the Same
Anya Nov 2018
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 took an event that occurred with me back in middle school, elongated it a little bit and wrote it into this poem.
499 · Sep 2018
Flaws
Anya Sep 2018
I have my flaws clear as day
And some not so clear, but there all the same
Everyone has flaws but when you’re ultra aware of your own flaws does that make you better at getting rid of them or does it just make you self conscious and unconfident?
498 · Oct 2018
Books to Me
Anya Oct 2018
From the moment
I could hear my grandfathers voice
Telling me legends and fables from his religion

To the time
My dad would
Make up tales
Of a pair of brothers
Just to get me to sit still
When my parents in a rare moment,
didn’t have
A book readily available

From the moment I was able
To hold a novel and breeze thought
Fluently with ease
After my parent’s ardorous task
Of getting me to practice

The days when my
Mind spent less time in the real
World and more time captivated
By those experiencing what I had not
But now, though their words, had

To today
Where my almost every
Free waking moment is spent
Either absorbing words
Of some romantic
Or fantastical story
Or,
Writing.
...
So basically...

Books
Stories
Novels
Words
...
This poem conveys it all
I don’t even have to say
What an integral part
Of me
They
Are
495 · Sep 2018
Bragging
Anya Sep 2018
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
495 · Sep 2018
Obsession
Anya Sep 2018
In preschool it was drawing
In elementary school it was reading
In seventh grade it was anime
In eighth grade it was Manga
In freshman year it was Asian light novels
Now,
It’s poetry
...
What will it be next???
486 · Sep 2018
Too Late
Anya Sep 2018
Don’t cross the yellow line
She says
I do just that

Look in ALL the mirrors before reversing
She rehashes
I glance at one

Put on a signal before you turn
She insists
I turn without a pause

Full stop at the stop sign
She stresses
I slow down a fraction

Be careful with right turns
She warns
I nearly crash a curb

What will it take you to ever heed me???!
She demands in hopelessness

A week later, there’s an accident on 74th street
She gets her answer.
483 · Sep 2018
Intro vs. Extra vert
Anya Sep 2018
I’ve always wondered
Where is the cutoff
Between an introvert
And an extrovert

Does my shyness categorize me as intro
The fact that interacting with people
Tires me out?

Or does my seemingly endless capacity for talking
Penchant for loneliness
And people pleasing nature
Classify me as an extrovert?

Maybe,
The line is between those who,
Would rather spend time with others
Or instead in the company
Of
Their
Own
Thoughts

I personally though,
Think people
Need
A balance
483 · Sep 2018
Reflection Poetry
Anya Sep 2018
I held back the waterfall
threatening to pour
Honestly,
Is it passive resignation?
I don't believe so
It feels more like...
waiting
Taking joy in the little things
But clutching onto a hope
that the world
my world
my story
will just evolve into just about every book
I've read
A happy story
I mean-it is
But, it's imperfect
Filled with incessant
USELESS
pity parties
I'm not friendless
I'm not heart broken
I have my family
I have talent
I have resources
I live in a great community
I have a great education
Endless opportunities
At my disposal
If I just reach
But-
It's impossible to feel perfect
And impossible to shrug off the laziness
The complacency
The flaws
It's important to be greatful
And I am
If I had the opportunity to trade
I definitely wouldn't
But-
It is true that sometimes
I'm smacked in the face
with the imperfections
the flaws
of my world
that I strive towards
I must keep striving towards
...
Okay.

I feel better now.
481 · Jan 2019
Procrasti-Click
Anya Jan 2019
Click Click clickety-click
A rolling laughter in waves,
Increases like a storm, then comes spinning down
In little bouts,  Actually
My to do list stretches quite long as I enjoy frequently reminding myself
Feeling busy
Feeling like I'm useful
I have things
to do
But,
For some reason
Maybe none,
I don't
Open my tab
and do them
Click Click clickety-click
480 · Jul 2019
Buuuurp! Oh, Excuse me!
Anya Jul 2019
The feeling of a full stomach is a curious one, despite the protruding bulge and the dull ache
It is impossible to feel dissatisfied
Despite the regret for that one to many slices
Despite the wish that you had gone for a run instead of acquiescence to the temptation of the glowing screen
Despite the knowledge that you’ll soon be buying new pants
Despite any and all obstacles in your way
You persevere
You are the Dictator
The ruler of your stomach
The ruler of your life
Until your sister comes in the room and starts yelling about depleting her potato chip stash
476 · Sep 2018
I n v i s i b l e
Anya Sep 2018
It's stifling
Unseen
Unheard
Unnoticed
By anyone
By anything
Invisible
in a room
full of my
supposed
...
friends
468 · Jul 2018
Procrastination
Anya Jul 2018
Buried in a hole
                           Pain?
                      Nah
Numb...
                Eh
Numb...
               Short circuiting
Numb...
               Fluffy ponies
Numb...
               Sleep, who she be?
Numb...
               Crinkle, the package opens
Numb...
               Blurry vision
Numb...
               Hysterical
Numb...
               No tears
Numb...
               Wave of self deprecation
           Self pity
        Wow
       I'm pretty pathetic
...
Oh well
  A
    Problem
      For another
         Day
464 · Jul 2018
Potential
Anya Jul 2018
Blank canvas
                       Empty
                                 Flat
                                       White
                                                  But,
                                             Potential
463 · Nov 2018
Night
Anya Nov 2018
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
463 · Jul 2018
At last
Anya Jul 2018
Whe. I lift my head
To expel a breath in a long sigh
The cool air being moved by the fan
Causes my hair
Loose tangled strands,
To wave about
In a celebratory dance
Of relief
At last
Can be anything, after reaching a destination, completing something, honestly for me it was just lifting my head and taking a moment to reflect.
462 · Dec 2018
Out of the Box
Anya Dec 2018
Rules,
Superficial rules we create
We confine ourselves within boxes
Answering a desperate plea for order
Some semblance of control, of understanding,
Shape, within shapeless mass, shapeless space
We build cages, chains, interlocked, intertwined

Yet, a common phrase
“Think outside of the box”
We acknowledge,
This cage
And in many cases it can be good
But we also acknowledge,
That to truly come up with something great, unique, to leave a
Lasting mark
One must think outside of the box left behind by our predecessor’s
Thoughts outside of their box
Which form our box

It’s like

Understand how to read notes
Before you compose your own

Know the color wheel
Before you experiment

Read books,
Before your write one

Maybe that’s where successful people come from,
People who manage to learn about their box
Well, before they manage to
Break it’s boundaries

And each minute, each second, each millisecond, each
This is happening again, and again
Our cages being broken
Reforged, anew

And through the internet, the media, mordern communications
Knowledge of this new box, these new boundaries
Can be spread

To pique another child or adult’s interest
Until the boundaries are broken
Once again
A cycle
On repeat

Until finally-



Or,
Is it like the universe,
Ever expanding,
Infinitely large
Without an end?
Anya Mar 2019
I go over my bucket list one more time...
Study, then jog a bit, finish my drawing for my grandma, then the equation I couldn’t figure out, then write the essay-
Or wait-maybe I should read the guidelines one more time-
The due date, when is it again?
AH! Piano is more immediate, where’s my metronome?
Oh no! The books are all our of order again and I can’t find it, why don’t I reorganize them in the process-
My room looks like trash why don’t I-

“Honey, are you done with your homework yet?”

Um...






Well...
446 · Sep 2018
Endings
Anya Sep 2018
Before you know it
It’s over
And you’re left wondering
How did it start
How did it end
Is it really gone?
A suspicion of deception invades you
Until your rationality convinces you otherwise
Its really done
No more
Tomorrow
And tomorrow
And the next
Yet
Your heart refuses to believe
For the longest time
As you gaze at your phone waiting
Until it gradually grows slow
And cold
And slower still
Till it stops all together
445 · Feb 2019
The hair, the tie, and Me
Anya Feb 2019
The strands tangle and twist
As if my finger,
Is the center of a tiny universe
Of interlocking twining twirling black
With a simple twist and snap
Are ripped,
Star crossed lovers
Every Romeo to his Juliet
Are rip, rip, ri-torn apart
The hair from the hair tie

Yet,
Like tentacles clinging on
A stubborn slug, repulsive
Yet in an obscure manner
Admiringly persistent
It continues to hold on

Like a lizard regrows it’s tail
Impossible,
To truly chop off
So too does the hair insist
Upon an adamant refusal to separate

As if hair and tie are one
Interlocked
In a ferocious battle...     Or,
Perhaps, a passionate embrace?
Are they one?

Whether it be so or not
I decide not to bother
Why,  should I take up the mantle
Of the evil stepmother, wicked witch, cruel king...
You name it
To separate the two, lovers or competitors
They maybe

Why insist,
Upon what will never
Come true,
At least,
In the case of any proper Disney fairy tale

Is what I tell myself,
throwing down the hair tie
In favor of writing poetry about it
444 · Dec 2018
To Go
Anya Dec 2018
It’s frigid
My entire left side
Is being pelted with snow
And wind
And cold
But for a moment it’s nice
This numb, space of time
When no obligations
Nothing, is
pressing down

Only where I’ve been
And where I have
To go
440 · Sep 2018
In Your Blood
Anya Sep 2018
“It’s in your blood”
This phrase irritates me
To an extent because
We build
All his hype around
Birth
And blood
Legitimate
Iligetamate
But,
In the end
Aside from appearance
Certain genetic qualities
Maybe some personality traits
You’re a produce of your environment
“Birth parents”
“Legitimate child”
As long as there’s love in the relationship
Does it even matter?
Basically, my inner cynic let lose. If you have more experience in this matter and disagree with me feel free to shoot me a comment or message. I’m just letting out the thoughts in my head and I’d love to understand if someone else has a different view.
438 · Jul 2018
Too tired to think
Anya Jul 2018
Have you ever
Felt so sluggish
You think it probably for your skin
To melt and ooze off
And the muscle underneath starts to sizzle
And only the lonely bones remain
As hot as a metal rod laid out under the blistering sun
One would feel that
If he or she closed their eyes
They’d become a shapeless lump
To much of nothing to be anything
And eventually they’d just sink into the earthen floor
Eventually reaching the crust then core
Then being desintegrated
Into tiny particles
I could keep going
But I’m too tired to think anymore
Let em just close my eyes and...
The title says it all, by the way the ending is implying that the above occurres to the subject of the poem after they close their eyes.
432 · Oct 2018
Little Bubble
Anya Oct 2018
It was a sad thing
To realize
How limited my topics
Of poetry are

Either some embodyment
Or my overflowing
Emotions

Or a strange
Out of the box
Analogy to something I
Learn in school

Or,
Simply a reflection
On the people
Around me
Something I’ve
Observed
In my sheltered
Surroundings

Perhaps
One of the above
Coupled with
Some fantastical
Figment
Of my imagination

But apart from that...

Politics, issues, society
Beyond that which I have
Been exposed to
Plenty,
There’s absolutely
Plenty to write about

Rather than
Simply,
Focusing on my
Own
Centered
Little bubble
429 · Oct 2018
I want to Win
Anya Oct 2018
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
For me it was debate but for those of you who understand the frustration involved in being behind but unable to catch up to a competititor no matter how you try, feel free to mentally replace debate with whatever activity you do.
428 · Sep 2018
My Book is my Shield
Anya Sep 2018
She insisted he had a crush
On me
He insisted he did
Not
I
Kept my nose
In my book
425 · Jul 2018
Short
Anya Jul 2018
I’m short
Not super
But like average
The shortest
Of average
...
It’s still short
424 · Sep 2018
Still Me
Anya Sep 2018
The question really is
how much of yourself do you want out there?
For one and all to see?

Social media-
other online platforms as well,

Allow one to remake themselves
or simply unveil what they choose

But,
in the end
Even,
if you try to hide it

You're still you
and
I'm still me
423 · Sep 2018
My Mother
Anya Sep 2018
In first grade
My mom
Made me read
A
Magic Treehouse book
Someone had bought me as a present

Then came my 6+ years long obsession
With fantasy

In third grade
My mom made me read
Red Pyramid
Recommended by my girl scout
Troop leader

Thus started my 5+ year obsession
With mythology

In seventh grade
My mom signed me up
For a field hockey goalie camp
She heard about
From a colleague

This started my 4 year venture
Into being a field hockey goalie

Somehow she always tells me
I never listen
She forces me
And I fall in love

This cycle has repeated

So much

When will I learn from my mistakes?
Will I ever?
When will I be able to find these things for myself?
Will I then be truly independent?
420 · Sep 2018
Poetry?
Anya Sep 2018
Why do I write poetry?
Is it to let it all out
Sometimes
A torrent of words
A hurricane of emotions
Other times
Simple lightly dusted sprinkles
On a cupcake
Free and airy
Yet,
Despite the medium
Through which my emotions
Words
Messages
Stories
Are conveyed
What is the purpose
And why only certain people?
Why not that person over there
Why doesn’t everyone write poetry
Why do people write poetry
What makes one a poet
And what makes a poet
Be a poet
I wonder
419 · May 2019
My Grandma
Anya May 2019
As I look at my grandma
I see a bird in a cage
“I was only one of the two in the whole university to receive...”
“...in chemistry”
“...PhD...”
“...stopped...”
“...financial...”
“...fami­ly...child...marriage...how could I...”
Once with wings of gleaming alabaster
Now a wrinkled dull grey
A pitiful little thing
A whole head shorter than my 5’1.5”
As if,
A gust of wind
Could blow her away
Yet,
Large soulful eyes
And a steady stream, exiting her lips
Chastising, complaining, advising
Truly a fire bird
A lot to be learned
Despite being entwined, constantly
In a pool of anxiety she remains
A blazing Phoenix
And even if it’s too late for her to rise from the ashes
There’s still me

Although I won’t live her life Or even
The one she should have had
I’ll live mine
419 · Sep 2018
Best Friends
Anya Sep 2018
One would opt for ****** Doo and Agatha Christy
The other for cheesy romance Asian dramas and light novels
One would rather be building the sets
The other, on the stage
One cares nothing at all for other’s thoughts
The other cares too much
One wants to be a police woman
The other simply cannot choose
It shouldn’t be possible
Yet it is
And perhaps, it is their extreme differences that bring them together
That keeps them from clashing
Or,
Maybe something in their respective personalities finds solace in the other
Whatever the case
They are best friends
414 · Jul 2018
You and Me
Anya Jul 2018
Two sides
One Dark
One Light
Where there is one
Another resides
Perhaps not seen
But there
You know it
Because one cannot be without the other
Like you and me
412 · Oct 2018
I’ll Take It
Anya Oct 2018
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
If you disagree please tell me why, I’d love to hear it.
411 · Sep 2018
Belong
Anya Sep 2018
In elementary school
Things were so much simpler
My three titles-
Artist
Reader
Nice
-Basically defined me
In other’s eyes
...
Now,
I am lost
In a sea of people
No clear direction
No clear idea
Of who I am
Where I belong
will I ever?
411 · Oct 2018
Comfort
Anya Oct 2018
Sometimes,
When you sink
Into your mattress
As you nose your way
Through that white sweatshirt
With,
Speckles of brown paint
From when you were painting
Your shed
Your hair splayed
Everywhere
Fragrance of
That new shampoo
Silky, smooth
Just warmth
And softness
So much,
So,
That you just want to melt
In
Forever
409 · Jun 2018
Beautiful
Anya Jun 2018
The tears are there
They may not be seen
But they are there
But
I don’t allow
them to drip down my face
To tear at my mask
I don’t allow my Achilles heel to be exposed
in my eyes
Where
it becomes brutally apparent
and tears me apart
Instead
I will use it to make something beautiful
409 · Nov 2018
Cloud
Anya Nov 2018
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
This poem was purely motivated by feelings, no specific intentions behind it.
Anya Oct 2018
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?
408 · Sep 2018
Paradox Perhaps...?
Anya Sep 2018
I do think someone who adamantly denies themselves would
Possibly write a poem judging others for reading
Their poem
But wouldn’t that be denying others
Not them?
406 · Sep 2018
Tension
Anya Sep 2018
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
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