a sense of shame brought upon by old social media profiles
a glimpse, a gaze, a window to my past,
and the cringe and depression comes flooding back.

a quick purge to the page shall do,
but im not sure thats good enough,
but it helps to know im in a better place,
the one that "she" was searching for.

lonely and confused i was,
but now that i'm mature,
i can love myself more.

It's rather easy with encouragement
to fill the pages with words.
Typing not deterred,
Quiet air with frantic typing,
And my ideas and words just flowed.

Poetry I thought was awkward,
Hell, it still quite is.
I didn't think it was my calling,
But to be honest, it was calming.
A class of five, it's rather small,
Yet it's quite fun and there was bonding,

Not the reason for my class,
Yet I'm here with frantic typing.
I wanted to write a story,
With- or without- a happy ending.
I'm just glad I've learned,

I could do that here too.

I shovel the dirt in the ***,
    And white rocks for display.
I start to dig an empty spot,
    In soil, my plants lay.

A small obsession has grown large,
    My love grows like a plant.
As roots stem out, they start to lurch,
    In hopes of sun, they slant.

After time, they will get bigger,
    And demand attention.
My small connection to the Earth,
    For only plants, I’m patient.

Time and time again I’ll check,
    And watch all my plant’s growth.
The roots are long and stems are thick,
    And bigger than I’ve hoped.

They have been dead but back to life,
    So easy to revive.
My mother’s plants have had some strife,
    Yet mine always survive.

Attempts of sleep,
To no avail.
Surrounded by silence,
And silence broken,
By slow ticks.

Hands always move, always constant,
Yet, slowly coming to a close,
With never ending movement.

The clock is worn,
It’s old,
It’s exhausted. Like me.
The clock strikes four,
And I’m still here,
Suffocating in near silence.

We've been apart for months,
Six months, to be exact.
I tried to be okay,
After what you have done.
After all of this time,
You just had to come back.
I thought that I had won.
I thought that you were gone.

I tried to forget you,
Yet you're so desperate.
You fail to see your flaws.
Wondering why I left,
Yet, I'm glad to be rid,
Of that man that I hate.

Go away.

I’m reclined in the chair,
For the very first time.
My anxiety at its peak.
It’s black and uncomfortable.
My arm resting on the side.
I begin to bite my cheek.
The equipment sitting there.
Standing by are the people,
Preparing for me, now all set.
I get brave and ready for the needle.

Clear tubes now red,
From my blood running through,
A strange, tingly sensation,
From my blood donation debut.
Racing to the pouch,
Or like a large silly straw,
With some sick beast enjoying
My blood at the end.

Alert at first,
Blinking tiredly soon after,
The room starts to spin.
My eyes playing tricks,
Is all that I could gather.

Suddenly falling,
But deep asleep.
The faces appear,
Absolutely appalling,
Dark orange and black,
Dripping and oozing,
But what flows from them?
My blood, perhaps.

Wait, why am I asleep?

Emotionally unavailable
During dark and dull days.
A long lasting boredom,
Slow day in a dreary haze,
And gradually hitting rock bottom.

Lay there in the silence,
Struggling with self hatred,
Too tired to change my clothing,
Why bother with hygiene,
With such a self loathing?

An uneven balance,
A ratio of hate.
Again lonely at heart,
Emotionally desolate,
Tearing myself apart.

I’m standing in my room,
Prepping for the party.
Excited to see my friends
To talk to chat, to drink the tea.

My mother’s tea
Slowly steeping,
A deep inhale
The lovely smell,
Fresh tea awaits.

Open the door and let them in,
My dearest friends.

I seat them first,
Letting my stuffed bear sit
Followed by my favorite dollies.
Before the table I stand,
So proud to be a hostess
When all that mattered was
Cookies and chit chat,
And going with the flow.

All of us in a new world,
Where we were somewhat old,
Where we could still be friends,
And nothing held us back.

Letting our tea grow cold,
We finally drink
In my room so pink.
And there we sit
Until it’s time to go.


Friends long gone,
But memory stays.
I realize now
I’m stuck in my old ways.
My values stick,
Black tea still brewing,
I wonder how
My old friends are doing.

A large tilted tree
Over a neglected grave.
Little lonely flowers
Litter most tombs.

Mossy and misshapen,
Some stones are forgotten.
A manicured grave,
From people that care.
Some overgrown grass,
And the musty air.

Each holding a life full of memories
That no one remembers.
Hundreds to thousands
Of isolated souls.
Hundreds to thousands
Of lives now empty.
And a slab of stone,
Of all that’s left.

Morbid but peaceful,
The chirps are the music,
Singing along for the dead.

Lives once lived,
Now lives are lost.
A place of the dead,
Yet teeming with life.
Tied down by a legacy,
Somber and silent
The graves line the hills.
The trees offer shade
To those that can grieve.

A resting place well deserved,
And family together are found,
With empty spaces reserved,
Ancestors are knowingly proud.

Gone from this world,
But not gone from our hearts.
Every death is a new start.
Death’s kind embrace
Has sweetly lured
The hundreds of dead,
Now to a new world.

More losses to face,
Loved and adored,
A casket adorned,
Now buried but breathing,
In other’s hearts.

Insides twisted,
By a knife,
Round and round,
Like spaghetti,
Curled on the ground,
I need no pity.

A twisted pain,
More than physical,
Emotion from my brain,
Something not visible.

More than a pain,
Somewhat a nuisance,
Driving me insane,
Making me useless.

Said to be in good hands
The room starts to spin
And it goes black
Orange and black faces
Dripping and oozing
Surrounded by medics
Feeling surreal and scared
Blood on my shirt
Can't even give blood right
I knew I was useless

I push you away,
but for what?
A stupid fear
we'll fall apart

I want to stop remembering you.
The thought of you keeps me up.
Sometimes I remember the good,
other times I remember the bad.
And, oh, how you rile me up now.
I am damaged from you,
It's difficult to trust.
I don't want to love again,
and it's all because of you.
I can't stop thinking of you,
because it makes my blood boil.
I hate the way you acted,
I hate the way you pretended to care,
I hate the way you ******* me up,
but it's too late for me to go back.