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These people.
The ones standing around complaning of which song they heard first.
These people.
Who never would think that they would make it out of this miserable place.
These people.
My people.

I don't associate myself with them, for I have dreams of my own, but these people.
Most have nothing to live for.
They have dreams as well,
but don't have any intention of living for them,
of striving for them.

My people often make me sick.
Probably about those at school.
I remember the look of confusion upon your face when I said, "Mother, I have a problem."
It was innocent, it was simple, it was not expecting.

"Mom, I make myself throw up."
"But I don't understand why? Just look at how thin you are."
"I see that, mom, trust me, I see it.

But I also see you.
I see you getting surgery after surgery when you were just like me before.
I see you take pill after pill to achieve what you believe is beauty.
I see you judge others.
I see you want to become others.
I hear you tell me that I'll end up the same way if I don't take care of myself;
this is what I'm doing, mom.
I'm taking care of myself so that I can fit your standards.
I look into the mirror and see myself as good enough.
Then I look into your eyes and see that it's a lie.

You say that when a child is hurt it is the mothers fault.
She should've been paying attention.

Mom, I am hurt.
*Please help me.
So I guess I'm a little upset at my mom. I wonder why.
I'm so tired
So winded
So full of it
And by it, I mean the voices.
Dear lord, they are everywhere.
They fill every which crevice of my mind.
The places I didn't even know existed.
Filled with them.

Them.
Implying that they are plural.
Maybe they aren't.
Maybe they are one.
One voice.
My voice.

Variations of my voice all telling me so many different things.
They call out my insecurities and exploit them.
The worst of all being:
*You will end up alone.
Woahh.
Make friends with monsters.
They know fear better than you.
They can help you cope.
More haiku~
To the boy with the saxophone skills,
I miss you.
I never said it and now I see that it was bad.
I hope I see you again.

To the girl who ******* me over,
******* ❤️

To my old youth leaders from church,
You left and so did I.
You might come back, but I won't.

To my sister,
Yes, I'm still *******.
I had to call 911 for you.
I'm glad you're okay.

To my first crush,
Was I too much?

To my cat,
You only like me because I feed you.
That's okay.

To the girl who is quieter than I am,
Speak up, honey.
They won't see your brilliance so make them hear it.

To the homeless man on Jackson Road,
Where are the shoes my mother bought you?

To my other sister,
You are a whirlwind of emotions.
You are amazing.
You are unstoppable.
Grow up and be unconquerable.

To the mailman,
I'm sorry that we're always ordering so many things online.
I'm sorry that they were big packages.

To the cute boy at HEB,
I know you work there.
Yes, I look for you every time.

To my cousin Denisse on my mothers side,
You're annoying.
Shut up.

To Denisse's older sister, Monica,
I'm sorry about your sister.
I'm sure you've hit her.

To my "father",
It's been years since I last saw you.
It's been years since you last stopped calling.

To my friends,
I know I'm an idiot.
I know I'm sarcastic.
I know I can be mean, but trust me, I don't mean it.
Please forgive me.

To the man at the post office,
Get over it.
It's your job.

To my 7th grade Texas history teacher,
You taught me the meaning of sarcasm.
I have yet to perfect it.

To my 9th grade history teacher,
You were the sweetest teacher I have ever had.
You taught me the meaning of procrastination.

To my best friend,
You are my soul mate and will always be my better, whiter half.

To my brother,
You might think that I hate you, but trust me.
I don't.

To my stepfather (the second one),
You were always my favorite one.

To the stray cat that attacks mine,
Go away.

To the missing sock that always stays lost,
Where have you gone and how can I find you?

To my UIL Ready Writing sponsor,
I enjoyed spending those Saturdays with you.
You taught me where the word "*******" came from.
Thank you.

To the boy that my best friend dated for a while,
She did like you, I promise.
Her love was just too strong and burned way too fast.
Better luck next time.

To the computer-programming textbook that I've had under my bed for a year,
I don't regret that decision.

To my mother,
I love you.
Thank you for raising me the way you did.

To the kids who skipped and smoked at school,
How I wish I could join you.

To the Bowery Poetry Club in New York City,
One day I will go back and you will be open and I will perform.

To the boy I love,
I hope that one day you find someone that you love as much as I love you.
*I hope it's me.
I've had this for a while, aging like cheese and wine.
I am a paperback novel
Sometimes my cover is damaged
You can see where they have
Opened and closed me

My name is painted on the spine
Which anyone could break

Along my sides you can see
All the lines of frustration,
Laughter, joy, feeling
A reader left on the
Outside of me

You can even tell where they stopped
How far they've gone
How far they still have left to go

I am a paperback novel
Look inside to see
I've been marked,
Dog-eared, defaced
All the lines of confusion
And realization of a reader

They will dig into my words
Wondering what I am saying
But what can I really say
That will mean anything to them

I am a paperback novel
At the end of me you'll find
Praise from all the "important" people
Yet all they do is lie
They'll day that I was great
A well written piece
But I have a hard time believing
I am worth anything

On the back you'll find
A paragraph about me
Pulling you into my story
Because every reader believes
To some extent that they are me

I am a paperback novel
I have been damaged,
Beaten and torn
By everyone who has held me

I am a paperback novel
Come and open me up
Or so long readers hurt me
Criticized and beat me
I've finally had enough
So show me how you'd treat me
Unlike all the others
This is my one last straw
Before I get a hard cover
Because you will never see
How difficult it is to be me

A paperback novel.
Collar and hip bones
Thigh gap and skinny wrists
Concave stomach
Boney ankles
It's okay to envy
Your best friend.

Straight teeth
Happy eyes
Wavy brown hair
And an iris to match
I don't see anything
Wrong with
Liking her better.

No scars on her skin
A troubled past
With few sins
A family who loves
She has so much more
Than I ever could

But she has me
To be an example
Of what to never do
Stay stong and
Always know that
She needs you too.

But you believe
Ther is no reason
For her to envy you too.

But there is so much
You know that she
Never could...
 Feb 2014 Ashly Aguilar
Alucinari
Daylight,
and I am passing through all the muck,
with a lamp,
looking for an honest man.
Upon ****** and poets,
nobles and clergy,
merchants and paupers,
I shine;
and I walk on.
Applause and a spotlight onto all who catch the reference.
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