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Anya Jul 2018
Golden light spills out in between the crevices and cracks
The world seems still save for the slight wave and rustle of each branch conversing with the wind visible to a discerning eye
Somewhere off in the distance a machine rumbles
The click of a light turning off
A voice calls out
Another mutters
Not still
Not completely peaceful either
But not loud either
Pleasant
A sense of comfort
A sense of security
just the way I like 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.
Anya Sep 2018
I know him from Debate
I know her since we share a similar name
I know them from playback theater
I know him from the musical last year
I know her from squash
I know them from my old school
...
You may think I'm a social butterfly
But,
that's not the case

I know him being, 'I know he's very polite but easily argumentative from my one word interactions with him and he's dated one of my friends'

I know her being 'I've heard of her from others who confuse our names but I've never really spoken with her except for exclaiming over our names'

I know them being 'I came to the meeting and listened quietly eating bagels as they spouted all the ideas'

I know him being 'my friend talked to him and I was there, we had to **** each other during one of the acts'

I know her being 'I finished my squash match early and watched her play hers'

I know them being 'they knew me as the shy girl who likes to read, I know them as people I inevitably talked to during school activities in our small grade'

It's unfortunate
really,
when I think

I could be great friends with these guys
If
I
only
stopped
being
so
self
conscious
Anya Oct 2018
I'm fine
I'm pretty sure
I'm fine

I'm normal
for the most part
I'm not super different
I don't necessarily stand out
I'm that nice girl
who's kind of a nerd
A sort of vague
baby bluish
hue
in your memory

Except for those
who I am close to
who see me as more,
splatter painted orange
which happens to be my least favorite
color
and tiny splotches
of greens
and yellows
then if you look way down
deep deep deep
like the deep blue sea

I'm fine
I'm pretty sure
I'm fine

I began writing poetry
due to loneliness
My obsessive
reading
had put
tantalizing thoughts
in my head of what school
best friends
crushes
life
SHOULD be
but wasn't

I would notice
every little thing
a drop of a pin
would mean
a world of difference
in my head

I'm fine
I'm pretty sure
I'm fine

I'm smart
But lazy
I don't spend
enough time on
what I should
I'm too privileged
I complain
(As I seem to be doing now)
I don't understand
what it's truly like
to not
be

I do as I please
It's not
that I'm not a hard worker
But it's like now,
when I know I have
two essays
and two
speeches to write
(And science homework)
But,
here I am
writing poetry instead

I'm fine
I'm pretty sure
I'm fine

I've repeated that,
how many times now?

I wonder what got me started
on this furious
ferocious tangent
...
I think it was...
another poem I read

About how poets
have something wrong
with them or other

I began thinking,
what about me?

Who's to say?
...
...
Probably me
Because I'm me
And I get to decide
who I want to be
...
Is what an optimist would say
Cheesy
Not cheesy
...
I'd
like,
to believe
...
...
I
need
to believe
...
...
...
You know what?
***** it,
I WILL BELIEVE
Um...all I know was that it was me talking myself into going from uncertain to determined but I'm really not sure where I went with that. Hope it's relateable or gets you thinking!
Anya Sep 2018
I’m so lucky
I’ve heard that
And there are times
It doesn’t need to be said
But I guess what I really
Need to think about
Is
How can I help others be lucky too?
In
Anya Jul 2018
In
I sit there,
with them,
No longer alone
IN
as they chatter
And when she asks me
I nod in agreement;
not really paying attention
A secret smile playing across the corner of my lips
Because I am IN
Anya Jul 2018
I am in a box
As I reach out
Touch the walls
This strange barrier that separates me
From the other
Anything external
Different
Other
A hand from the box adjacent to mine appears
Splayed against the wall
I reach out mine
The dark and light contrast
Like the Chinese symbol Ying and yang
Other clearly
Other
Even a child could tell the difference
But,
Who does it take to look past the differences?
Anya Jun 2018
A big fish in a small pond
Or a small fish in a big pond
Isn't that the question?
Do I want praise
From those below me?
Or do I want to struggle and strive
Towards those towering above?
To be plagued by insecurities
Expose my natural deficiencies
Struggle
Silently scream
But at the end of the day
What do we have to live for
Except improvement?
Anya Mar 2019
aAAAAHHHHhhhh
Insecurity, thy old friend, so much
like Insect,
except you have a "uri" before the t and a "y" after
Possessively hogging my attention
Away, keeping me engaged
Until,
Everything else slips away from me one by one,
               by                     one
                      by          one
                       ­      by
And all I am left with is you,
only you,
And I bask in you, and sink in you, and merge-

...

Insecurity,
thy old friend
For old time's sake,
Just,
Leave me alone,
Or,
Do I have to ignore you?

...

Even though you're screaming,
In my head
Even though,
you have the ability,
to take over everything and anything
Till all that's left is a-

aAAAAAAHHHHHhhhhh
Insecurity,
The monster in my closet
The monster under my bed
The monster-

Or more like-
A shape shifter,
As pleasant as a cloud
Until,
you give her attention

Then, she greedily
       gobbles it                             up

...

And                    
                you
Anya Sep 2018
Friendship is like
A diapole diapole interaction
Two different
Entities
Positive and negative
Attracted to each other

Best friendship
Is like a hydrogen bond
Still a diapole diapole
but stronger
Only possible in the presence of
A hydrogen
Someone in the relationship
Able to keep it afloat

A London dispersion
Force
Is like a pleasant acquaintance
Someone you get along with
But no strong emotional ties
To hold you there
Just
Small talk

An ion diapole bond
Is like
A difficult relationship
Opposites attract
But you’re bonded
So strongly
...
That eventually one
Of you just starts
To tear the other apart

Like salt in water
If you find quirky science analogies like this one interesting check out my collection "science poems".
Anya Sep 2018
To go
Or not to go
That is the question
whether tis noble in the mind
to suffer the slings and arrows
of outrageous fortune
or to take arms against
a sea of troubles
and by opposing end-

Okay guys that's enough.
Anyone recognize that?

Seriously though, should I go to the dance?

A part of me wants to
I'd get to see my friends
share experiences with them...

Another though,
Would rather stay at home
having more fun there

My mom told me I should go
try something new

But it isn't new
I went last year

It was great
But right now I'm feeling mildly invisible in my friend group

Maybe more effort is required?
To relate more with them?

But it's not due to malicious intent
Or anything

I
just
feel
invisible

I have one best friend though
But we're kind of different
It's still easy and fun
between us

She doesn't go to the dances
She doesn't wear dresses
She'd rather play video games
Watch ****** Do
Or read Agatha Christy

I have other friends too
But I don't talk to the ones I don't see everyday much

But I talk to a variety of people as well
At least,
I have people I can easily talk to

Should I go?
I probably won't be lonely
But I'd probably have at least some times
of Boredom

No

Maybe that's why I'm not going
I'm a coward

But

That isn't it
...exactly
It's sort of
laziness
combined with a mild fear
But mostly I feel I'd have more fun at home

AAAARGGH!

Somehow I seem to believe I'll have better friends in the future
Maybe
Maybe not
I think I will though

Plus, at this age
at least in all the relationships I've had

Both sides
Are SUPER self-obsessed

PEOPLE ARE SO SELF-OBSESSED
(Me included)

Alright rant over
(Probably not)
Anya Dec 2018
“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
Anya Sep 2018
A dog
Waiting
For it’s owner
In my case
For more likes
We all look to society, often in the form of social media, for verification. Even Hellopoetry for some.
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
Anya Sep 2018
Unseen
Unheard
Their eyes skip over mine
Their voices directed to others
Their ears only hearing others
I'm invisible
In the classroom
In the hallways
Outside
Inside
In the cafeteria
I'm invisible
And I'm really tired of blaming myself for it
Anya Sep 2018
It's stifling
Unseen
Unheard
Unnoticed
By anyone
By anything
Invisible
in a room
full of my
supposed
...
friends
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.
Anya Oct 2018
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
A thought and mundane event woven into a poem.
Anya Sep 2018
Sometimes
In a frenzy of emotion
I wonder
...
Are these even poems?

Or just me spilling words as I please
Splatterpainting the enticing blank page
With me
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.
Anya Mar 2019
"It's all your fault" The Leaf Blower complains
"Well, now you've gone and done it" the Rake, my supposed friend admonishes me
My head is buzzing
Says the Leaf Blower, "Always favoring him over me"

Ms. Leaf Blower and I have never gotten along,
Me, because of my seeming inability to properly use her, and the irritation when my dad could and asked me to hold the wire for him
Her, because of my, from a very young age, obvious favoritism towards Mr. Rake, who used to be my best friend until he passed away and my family disposed of his plastic remains

His predecessor, Rake junior, is far sharper than his old man
But rather than make him a better rake this simply adds to his narcissism
Unfortunately, this increases his attraction as well and each time he's swept about it's not just the leaves that are unearthed
Despite this obvious flaw in his being overly sharp, he sees it fit to admonish me for breaking Ms. Leaf Blower
Don't think I can't see the two of you flirting out there!

But indeed I did,
Break her that is, clearly none of the wires were pulled out
yet, she refuses to work

So now,
I'm left with a sullen rake
And a thousand-
Scratch that,
A seemingly never ending yard full of leaves
To clarify I used to really like a plastic rake but it broke and was thrown away. We also had a leaf blower but I could never properly use it. We later bought a metal rake which was overly sharp and has the tenancy of getting caught in the grass. Years later I was asked to blow the leaves but I managed to break the blower in five minutes so I resorted to the infuriating rake.
Anya Dec 2018
There's crumbs, all over my computer, all over my pants, all over
Me
Entropy, the natural state is it?
Humans attempting to force the unnatural?
The little graham ******* crumbs,
nothing keeping them together
anymore
But still, each individual crumb upon my lap houses millions of billions of trillions of
Individual pieces, that house
And so on               and                  So forth
Till you get to atoms
And eventually,
quarks

But, is it worth,
Looking, thinking, so infinitesimally small
When,
We've got bigger matters on our plate?
Things so large, red, and shiny, that they take up all the space
Except the little cracks that we miss,
Forget,
Or don't care about altogether

Because we've got bigger fish to fry


Right?
But then,
If we always keep chasing the dragon,
Won't we miss the shooting star lighting up the sky for just a moment?
As I was writing this I found multiple surprisings interpretations. That's why I gave it that title, it's filled with meaning yet a random mess at the same time.
Anya Dec 2018
A moment of peace I call it
Ha!
Rather, in a rapidly moving tornado
A single coherent thought
may  be called a moment of peace
Yet here,
Sitting on this hard wooden chair, strong against my back
It is not quite,
a moment of peace
For in this case it is not the tornado,
that gives me reprieve
But I myself,
Choosing to ignore it and let it
Sit,
at the back of my mind and
Come back to bite me
Later
Anya Apr 2021
“Then you should have let me die”
My father’s words to my mother in a fit of frustrated rage at something so small I hardly remember it now
Ah, I think the conversation went something like this,

                                                        She gave him his dosa
                                          “Where’s the chutney to dip?” he asked
                                                       “No chutney. The coconut isn’t good for you”.
                                          “Why...don’t you know how hard it is for me? How could you do this?!”

No, that was a different conversation, but they all embody the same thing
My father’s struggle with his tumor        after tumor                          after tumor
And as chemo pelts the tumors like wrecking *****, my father’s spirit is equally as exposed to the onslaught
Like wisps of smoke, fragments of his struggle leak out into our house, our family

My mother carries the weight, coupled with her own baggage
She simply tightens the buckle on herself, almost choking but standing ever more upright, a towering hyperion
While praying
She prays
                  He prays
                                   They pray
Falling back to childhood, to their hope, their trust in God
The hope that keeps them alive through the sheer force of their will
I’ve noticed that “God”

Is like a medium
A medium of belief in yourself and hope for a better, brighter future
A medium I stubbornly refuse to use, calling myself an atheist, the rebellion within I suppose
“Well it’s all the same” mom says

Maybe so
Maybe I will one day rely upon that medium, deeply, simply to retin the hope that someone is there for me, even if that someone is myself masked as an external “God”

“I knew then that the Lord wanted me to help people”
He said, an old man in his 80’s, clearly displaying signs of the vicissitudes of life
Couldn’t walk, cooped up in a room 24/7
Yet here he was, not blaming, nor resentful
But in tears not because of his own struggles, plight
But because the Lord gave him a chance to “help people”
He had an opportunity to improve diabetes treatment
Efficiently collect blood
“help people”
Because the Lord allowed him to get into college late to “help people”
That was his miracle

Even if no one was in time to help him

Like the teachers in Chennai, India we saw while visiting family three summers ago
Forgoing a well paying job at a government school, money and comfort
To teach somewhere where they believed they’d make an impact on young minds

Little children growing up to become scientists like the women promoting mushroom growth
To increase the village’s protein intake and empower women
Easily grown at home, it’s not meat, it’s a mushroom

The man who forged ahead to build a canal for the village, a pioneer starting a movement of innovation

An old woman in her late 80’s helping a single mother  keep her job

No cash at my dad's favorite bagel shop, the owner who allowed me to pay later

Simple little things, it’s the little things that hook you more than any superficial bait
And place you on a cloud of warmth

I belong

People can be so terribly kind
To a stranger, to an acquaintance
                                        to a friend, or even
                       to a foe
Yes, there are wars being fought, people dying every second

But as I look up at the hazy blue clouds drifting lazily along outlined with flecks of gold almost like a halo
The humming breeze caressing my cheek, the scent of dew drifting by
I couldn’t feel more glad to be alive
So, please don’t say you wish you were dead

Just open the window and gaze at the ever changing sky
    Whether temperamentally torrential
Or a lazy, hazy, pink or blue
And relish that single moment you are privileged to be a part of
Shared by countless others around the world

But although the seemingly endless sky may cover everyone
At that moment, at that place, at that time the sky and all its magnificence is
All yours
Anya Sep 2018
I look at novels
And I base my life off of it
...
Often has me feeling disappointed
...
Then I wonder,
Is it the excitement,
Or the predictability?
The adventures
Or the security?
That everything’s going to be alright
...
I find
I don’t really know
...
But I still appreciate my life
I love it
I really do
Because,
Wouldn’t a perfect life
Be boring?
Anya Nov 2018
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
Anya Sep 2018
When I was but a child
To litter seemed a scandelous crime
As we were taking a walk one day
I vowed
That I’d bring
My plastic grabby tool out
And clean it all up
...
We got home
Milk and cookies
Was all it to took
For me to forget
...
A couple of years later
I saw a piece of plastic in our yard
I picked it up
Brought it home
And disposed of it
Feeling great about myself
...
The year after my brother happened to have a park cleanup
At his school
I had time
So I thought,
Why not?
I came along
Used funky tools
Counted each piece I picked up
Feeling good about myself
Then I went home
To eat some cookies
...
The next time I saw a piece of trash,
I acknowledged there wasn’t anything much I would do about it
...
After that I stopped noticing all together

They instill the knowledge in kids
That littering is bad
But just words
Are words
Until we put in a team effort
Rather than acknowledging others will do it for us
Or that it’s too hopeless
Nothing will ever get done
Anya Sep 2018
Sometimes,
I feel like a little ant
Scrambling
To find purchase on the rock
Known as my mind
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
Anya Jul 2018
A soft shy smile
Heart-
LubDub
LubDub
So cute!
High pitched little voices
In their own world
Eager
to please
to laugh
to experience
To live
Anya Jul 2018
I sit there alone;
in my cozy corner
nose buried deep in a book
But eyes occasionally peeping out,
to watch as they play;
it’s joyful faces;
far away.
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.
Anya Sep 2018
Now whenever I think back
to that feeling which has
almost completely been erased from my memory
I wonder

Was the feeling
that he was there waiting for me
that any moment I’d be in his grip
in his claws

I’d be helpless
alone

That was the worst part
alone
no one else
even if there were, they weren’t any better off

Just me
in a solitary
suspended
state of terrified numbness
so caught up in the moment

Then there was no time
to think logically
and see it for what it was

As I can do now
But
as much as I am relieved to be freed from the dreadful mindless panic
There is a part of me that feels it’s loss
Anya Sep 2018
The worst part
Is when
You begin writing for yourself
...
But by the end it’s for the readers
And your emotions
Are lost
Anya Jan 2019
It’s moments like this
Some obscure song playing on our google home

My brother, gazing off into the distance no doubt under the spell of some great philosophical inquiry,
Neglecting the spoon and it’s contents
Drip drip dripping

My mother in the corner, seemingly preoccupied, slender fingers probing what appears to be
Yet another bag
Of those chocolate covered toffee almonds

My father, ever the victor in competitive eating, up and roaming about
By the window one moment, at the couch the next
Gone like the wind, oh here he comes

Meanwhile I, face a great trial which I must overcome in order to greet my destiny
-stairs
At the top of which await
Dozens upon dozens of procrastinated
Assignments just calling to me
Stirring up within me a desire,
A ferocious flaming ambition,
To not move an inch
Anya Jul 2019
She looks up
Blinking at the ringlets that suddenly flop into her curious gaze
Gazing down at the strange cracks in the bench in which one’s toes invariably find themselves wedged
Reaching out at the twitching nostril of my stunned ten year old brother
Pointing at the strange piece of white cheese in the sky whose name seems to imitate a cow
Knocking off the hat that seems to magically appear on one’s head and frowning at the peal of laughter following it
Calling out to her father and chewing on the hem of his trousers when he seems to find guests more interesting than his one year old daughter
My cousin is in her own little world
Anya Oct 2018
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
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
Anya Oct 2018
A constantly
chugging train
plugging numbers
spitting answers
as exhaust
out
the chimney
Understandings
Clicking
fitting
snug
like the wheels
on the tracks
...
And all I can do
is my best
to
hold
on
Me
Anya Sep 2018
Me
I am what
Sitting here
The essential paradox
To me at least
Since,
isn’t MY biggest concern of course
Me?
Anya Sep 2018
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
Anya Sep 2018
Personally,
If I was forced
To consider every word
Every stroke of the brush
Every action
Every phrase
Everything
With meticulous consideration
I’d find it extremely stifling
...
Is that a problem?
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
Anya Jul 2018
I can easily play
With words
With meanings
Twist them around
Randomize
Sometimes gaining gold
Other times, dirt
But one to me
May be the other to others
Anya Dec 2018
Her words, a steady stream
I tried
To smile, stifling a yawn my glazed eyes wandering over to
Our bookshelf the recently bought ACT prep book aligned with a
More appealing Children’s poetry

“But then she was like”
My attention snaps back to the present
And I smile and nod
Like I understand, which I do, don’t get me wrong I just

May have forgotten to change the towel
And the clothes in the dryer
Oh also, i still haven’t gotten around to that essay
My current average really doesn’t sit well with me not to mention
The excercises for-

“And I was like ***!”
I unintentionally smile, the same story
The same pattern again
Never ending, seemingly
What is this, some sort of drama of a stereotypical teenage girl?
Is there secretly a film crew behind the scenes
A script inserted in our brains
Of this monotonous constant
Unending story?

But maybe if I’m truly unsatisfied,
The fact that I’m
Right here, right now
Feeling it, proves
That I have the capacity to desire change
And maybe,
Achieve 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
Anya Sep 2018
She insisted he had a crush
On me
He insisted he did
Not
I
Kept my nose
In my book
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
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?
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