On a dark and stormy night,
I was born out of a place without any lights
A nurse and doctor looked at me less
More than they'd expect a child to fix a world—yet being a mess
The clouds were heavy, heaven was empty
And I tricked myself that it was because the Lord had sent me
An angel was with me, but still with a devil within me
Question of sin by a seed, growing like a black willow tree
I was born a writer; with no right to be inspiring
In spite of things, my desire is to speak all the right things

To say you'd stack your success in columns
Sort of feels common; knowledge to mind
All your steps, like you have mind powers
Less successful in the things I did, all uneventful
Quite dreadful, of a sucky life with a hint of menthol
These opinions put over my head all affect my mental
Deep pressed, feeling the pressures of always being depressed
So hard to wear your heart on sleeves, when you wear a vest

With this self opposition, and man's superiority competition
Sometimes forgetting you're Christian, and it's composition
With all the respect for all our women, their first time christen
And with the guidance of someone else's wisdom
To avoid all those mistakes, and repetition

Who else do I need to show respect, for respect back
For being young comes with baggage your adult self will
have to unpack. Getting kicked in your past,
For wanting to kickback and relax;
As you've never completed a difficult task
That an adult never had the time to ask or surpass

That was my childhood, putting me in a foul mood
And life's birds of prey looked at me as child food
Still growing in a pretty beating moment, and it empowers
Because I wouldn't be me without reminiscing on my
hearts and flowers.

Anxiety and excitement are one of the same
Research for an answer to analyse traits
For the loss of another can be someone's gain
A vicious cycle with which to attain
Stressed from such pressures
Soften your edges to lighten your weight
All in a state but we all hesitate
Widen perspective and encompass ourselves
When life skills aren't taught
Are we really at fault or who is to blame
Personal perception distinguishes choice
Critical thought strengthens one's voice
A softer approach is often dismayed
Where are your heroes when you reach of an age
Admiration compels to find your own way

Good morning new day..
I arise early I pray..
I'm humbled and grateful..
Not too sure as to which tasks to tackle at first.


There's a hint of thirst..
The desire to get accomplished what was left undone yesterday.
Good morning again new day..
I'm reminded its still so early..
Don't know what will feel the worst.

Not getting done all the mind usually has rehearsed.
Or not getting something new done first.

Ok breakfast.. no nothing till lunch..
Maybe do a brunch.
when do I fit a workout in..
Best time about ten..a.m
Be sure to get your vitamins taken.

Anxious to get prepared for today's work.
Allergy flared up..
Showered and all cleaned up.
All kinds of task yelling for my attention..
Some for work, some about business.
And some for my own pleasure.
Twenty four hours is the length of measure.
Yet theres this sense of pressure.

thirst
desire
responsibilities
tasks
rushed
anxious
pr­essures
pleasures

No wonder I feel tired already..
It's only the beginning..
Yet so much is already awaiting..

Thanks for reading this lil dose of new day waiting..
selinasharday's @H.E.R Poetic Collectionz
s.a.m copy right..2018

Sorry to interrupt your schedule program but I need to talk with the Mr. and Mrs.
Lead the children out I don’t want to shock them with the truth I am speaking
The world is ending in a couple of minutes by a force of our creation
No point in fighting just try to crying for mercy
Correction no point for begging cause there’s no escaping.

Your parents are wailing but you are all laughing at hands outstretched across the horizon
Maybe you aren’t scared of my image because you have no basis to draw your perceptions
You are still individuals not products of your parents’ dreams and fears
You still have free will, no concept of living, of course, you won’t be afraid of dying
You aren’t affected by my presence since you have yet to be introduced to me
But eventually you’ll fear me, join me, and you’ll be the cause of your child’s undoing.



© Sofia Villagrana 2018

Do not trust me, for I'm  a poet  
I will analyze and read you
Stanza by stanza
hook by hook
My aim is to open you up
Enabling your thoughts to intertwine  with mine & to fall obsession towards me just by my words
Like your  favorite  childhood book.