When I was seven
My school
Held a glass blowing event
I got to help blow a really pretty
Blue one
I took it with me
Everywhere
Despite my mother’s warnings
And it shattered
So...
What makes you trust me with your heart?

I want her to only look at me
Talk to me
Laugh with me
Think of me
Hang with me
Be with me
Only me
But she has him
And her
And them
But I don’t have them
So I want her
But she wants so much more

I’m short
Not super
But like average
The shortest
Of average
...
It’s still short

Sometimes,
Poetry is easier
Than socializing

Because in poetry
One can get it all out
In one go,
Without being
Hindered by
Social
Anxiety

Then,
People get to comment
Without being
Unable to listen to the whole story
You’re
Too
Shy
To
Finish

Some people like my poetry
And
when I realize that
it's like a little
shock
to my system
...
Because,
it's literally my thoughts

Slightly filtered?
Yes

Extra line breaks
to gain the
impression
I require?
Yes

But, it's still basically

my thoughts
And people seem to
actually find
it
i n t e r e s t i n g
...
Although,
this is surely
the case with
many poets
If
not all
..
I'm sure,
plenty
of the ones I read

...

It's really
amazing

How we are able
to appreciate
each other's
thoughts
despite

Similarities
...
and
differences

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?

What is being smart?
I've always wondered
Is it having innate talent?
Or being exceedingly knowledgeable?
Perhaps, having the skills to survive in one's society?
...
Is it a special skill?
Is it something that can be cultivated?
Is it limited to certain people?
...
So what is it?
...
...
...
I'd really like to know

How do you speak
When you spend every minute
Scrutinizing
Every word
You are
Or will
Say
Even in front of your friends?

I know I should
get up
and do the ten thousand things
on my bucket list
But it’s a summer day
and my couch is
so soft

I,
Over
Analyse
Over
Strategize
Over
Fantasize

They say...

it isn't about winning or losing
it's the sport
and the people who play it
But is it really?

When you look at me
You instantly stereotype
My glassses
My skin color
You can probably guess I’m book smart
You’d be right
You can guess I’m introverted
You’d be semi right
You can guess I’m not naturally very athletic
You’d be right
You can guess my ethnicity
You’d probably be right
You can guess a lot of things
And there’s a high chance you’d be right for many of them

But...

What about those things,
You’d never guess?
I bet you’d never believe I was a Goalie
You probably don’t know I write poetry
I’m learning Chinese
I ran six miles in fifth grade
I enjoy acting
I’m an atheist
I have a mild obsession with Asian light novels
The list goes on...

But still,
The point here is
There’s a lot of things you don’t see

About me

About everyone

I’m just as guilty of judging as anyone else
We humans tend to categorize,
A lot
...
But,
It’s
Often
Not
True

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

Category 2,
not too bad...
Swirling, whirling
Pounding, hounding
Rolling, Spinning
But
Manageable

Category 3...
Freight train,
coming from every direction
Major, but nothing new

Just an hour
Hold on,
We'll pull through

Pressure suddenly
DROPPING
Ears constantly
POPPING

Category 4,
...
Too late
My father's sharp
Breath

Pieces of homes
ripped off like flakes of skin
Leaving the ground barren
Only the bear bones
possibly remaining
Till they too,
are forcefully wrenched
apart,

A majestic structure,
now reduced
simply,
to *******

Mother nature
hurling trees
in her
wrath

All-
...
Gone,
in
a
matter
...
of seconds

The roar
mirroring the one,
in my head-telling me to
get
Get OUT
NOW

The world...
a symphony
of rage, ferocity, passion
Violent reds,
splotches of
orange and fuchsia
That,
I unfortunately,
seem
trapped within
As the clashes and roars
Waves and cutting wind
Swirl around me, I wonder,
is this,
what an insect feels like,
stuck in a washing machine?

Come to bed,
my father calls
I go,
reluctantly,
to the pillows and covers
that should be warm and soft,
but to my touch,
appear frigid
stiff

My eyeballs
practically popping
until at
some unknown time,
they shut
and I
SINK
Sink
sink

...

...

Sunlight streams in,
A dream?
Perhaps...
Possibly...
Maybe...
Oh, if only...

Unable to contain the hope,
I leap up to my window-      And freeze

Debris-
not trees,
not homes,
not anything
Just a mass of objects rendered useless and stamped with the label of
-DEBRIS
...
My father says,
No more running water

My neighbor's little blue
shed,
...
in shambles

Yet,
as I step outside
After what seems,
like a long arduous battle
I was an unlucky
Bystander
caught in the middle
of

Yet,
Despite the
churning feeling
in my stomach          The broken battered *******,
the ruined property       The, miserableness
Of the situation

But then again...
As my father,
fervently
prays
praises
Thanks the Lord
...
My mind,
is blown away
As I stand,
In awe
as my eyes take in the majesty
of those few,
solitary,
hundred year old houses
...
still standing

In a sea of problems
...
Sometimes
It seeems
Like I’m the only one
Trying to swim

She came that day
On the verge of tears
Certain,
Something tragic had occurred
I inquired as to the cause
Of her distress

“I told him...and he...”
Oh.
I didn’t have to hear any more.
I responded with sympathy
And let her rant out her emotions
As I considered what angle would be best
To complete my drawing
Considering this project could very well dictate our trimester grade...

Another girl came in the room
And was subject to the same story
She, unlike me, gave her a hug

Now,
You may be wondering
Or shocked
By my callous behavior
But see,
This was nothing new

From two years prior
Since the time we’d known each other
It was like this
She,
Colorful, cheerful, charismatic yet melancholic
Smart as well
Attracting friends to her
Like bees to honey

But...
She also had crushes
Loads of them
At least three to five a year

She cried in eighth grade
In ninth grade she actually went one with one
Then,
They broke up
After a week of neglect

Another guy liked her
But she didn’t like him
Despit confiding in him
Constantly
His emotional tendencies
Grew too much for her

Then she liked another,
But he was gay
So they stayed friends
But apparently she likes him again

No offense,
But I’m currently at the end of my tether
I have things to worry about
And it really makes me wonder,
How can someone feel so deeply each time?
It seems painful

She’s a wonderful person
But, very ephemeral
Her attention flits like a bird
And her attraction is deep
But short

As a friend though she’s great
And I have nothing against her
I think with a sigh as I look out the window
And she heaves a breath
On the verge of tears
Just another day of the symphony between a helpless romantic
And
A
Cynic

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

I binge WAYYYYYY too much

During my obsession with strawberries
I ate a couple boxes a week
For a solid
Month
Or few

During by obsession with reading
Every ounce of my
Free time was
Devoted
To
Scouring
At least several
A week

During my obsession with drawing
The number of printer paper
Packages I ran through
Cannot be counted
And this lasted
Several years
Mind you

During by obsession with Chinese cuisine
I constantly pestered my family
To go there
On our weekly
Outings
For a solid
Couple years

During my obsession with vanilla covered chocolate popsicles
I ate one
Every day
For
At least
A month

During my obsession with pogo stick jumping

During my obsession with chocolate chip cookies

During my obsession with Asian light novels

During my obsession with strawberry black forest cake from that specific bakery

During my-

During my-

During-

Dur-

Yup.

It’s confirmed.

I
Am
A
Binger

Black
Death, loss, mourning
in many Western countries

White
purity, rebirth
in many parts of Eastern Asia

Red
honor, patriotism
certain places

Purple
spirituality
Other places

Rainbow
bright colors
At the,
wish
of the
diseased

And yet,
I'm sure there are more
colors worn
thought of
representing
these complex emotions
impossible to capture
No matter,
how
hard
we try

Others,
Push it in
I,
Keep it out

In other words...
Others, fill their heart
I,
Keep mine tightly locked

With

A

Click!

In second grade I got
an honorable mention
In the piano state

For those of you who don’t know
This competition has a first place,
I’ve forgotten the name
Runner up
And honorable mention
Below that was a 1
And a 2

I don’t know if
Only a certain number could
Be in each category
But I did know for each age level
There was certainly more than one

Either way, I was excited
Pleased

The next year,
I got a 1

The year after that,
I broke down crying
Thoroughly
Unprepared
And got a 2

The year after
I got a 1

The year after
I got a 1

The year after
I got a 1

The year after
I got a 1

And no that was not a mis
Type
That was really how it was

I switched piano teachers
And vowed I’d do better this time
But I spent most of my summer
Out of town
And I didn’t get the practice
I needed

The year after
I got a 1

This year,
I’m participating
Once again

And I’m tired
At the monotony of it all

But,
Can I actually
Overcome my laziness and time restrainsts and practice
The amount I need?

In third grade
I joined my school band
I was percussion,
the only one in my school
Lugging around my giant drum kit
I was different
But,
still an essential part of the band

Now, fast forward to seventh grade
I joined my school field hockey team
I was the goalie
The only one on my team
Lugging around my giant bag of gear
I was different
But,
still an essential part of the team

These parallels stick out to me
Clearly, it's a statement

I desperately crave that team
group
sense of belonging

Yet,
at the same time
...
I want that independence
I want to be different
I want my own little niche
...
It's amazing how much poetry
can give you an insight
into yourself

I know,
I've got a lot to do
I know,
I'm *******
...
But,
I'm
THRIVING

Come one, come all!
And welcome
To the shield shop!

Here, we supply anything
And everything
You need
For a custom made
Shield

Now, this isn’t your typical
Iron or bronze,
No,
the shields here are much
Sturdier
And not for physical
Affronts

We could provide you
A block of wood
For dense ness
Thoroughly not
Understanding
Social cues
Good,
For keeping away
Verbal bullies
Or,
Romantic attention

A shard of ice for coolness
Unaffected
Untouched
Abve the crowd
Keeping your cool to the point
That no one approaches you
No one reads you
Makes you seem impenetrable

A flame for blazing confidence
Attracts people
But also scares them away
So they,
Maintain a distance
From your
Vulnerabilities
Whose existence
They may not be aware of

A kitten for innocence
Either,
Giving others the desire
To protect you
Or they just pass you by

We have all these
And so much more!
So why don’t you come and
See
Which one works for
You!

Last year
was the worst

loosing half our team
to a discrimination scandal

how could they do that?
how could that say that about those people?

how could they be those people?
how could they get expelled?

how could they sabotage our team?
By doing such STUPID things?

We lost
No surprise there

A losing streak
till the end of the season

Even losing the title of champion
held several years in a row

...

This year
new freshman

faces shining
as ours had been years past

showing us weary downtrodden sophmores
the reason we played in the first place

not the winning
not even the people on the team

...

But the sport
our sport

we just defeated our long time rivals this year
and things are looking good

Summers day
Soft white couch
Feathers make me sneeze
As the birds make their morning calls
The taste of time
So sweet

Sometimes....
I bemoan the negatives
of something
Just
to feel good about the positive
...
And then
I almost
hate myself
for it

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

How much conscience must one lack to
**** a fictional character
But it’s not a matter of how much one lacks
Because to them,
The video game
Board game
Character
That lies in the figments of one’s thoughts
Is not living
Simply empty shells
With a name
Easy
Too easy to swipe off a board
To swipe off a screen

But then again,
Are they easy to erase because they are not living?

For, there are people in the profession of-
People who raise to slaughter-
People who make sport out of-
Animals
Specifically,
Their deaths
To raise, end, and eat
Wilder animals to catch
And place in a cage
Loss of freedom
Or loss of live
What kind of a choice is that?

So then, if not living
The
Line must be drawn at humans
Isn’t that the case?
But, isn’t it also true
That a human life can disappear at a simple,
...

It’s a coming
Not yet arrived
Seemingly soon
Yet out of reach
Only there for the journey
Chasing after an untouchable destination
Which begs the question
Are you there for the journey or
The destination?