misty in the back yard
walking along the perimeter
socks getting soggy

it’s barely first light
peering on the horizon
still no I’m Sorry

the wind whips my face
i cry from the pain
on the soles of my feet
on this wire i’ll stay

balancing act
practice never lets out
calling all the famous talent scouts

make me into the final act
that everyone laughs at
instead

On the day when I compose
The Best Man Speech for my brother's wedding,
Quoting Lin Manual-Miranda,
Practicing quoting "love is love is love"
In the bathroom mirror,
As I forcefully gesticulate for the triumphant finale,
That little seed of self-doubt creeps in.

I haven't done enough, haven't accomplished enough.
I need to write some poems; I need to submit more.
I'm published widely; I haven't been published in a week.
It isn't good enough; it's never good enough.
I'm never good enough.
As Radiohead said, I've given it all I've got,
And yet,
I'm never good enough.

a mirror
a piece of glass
an object that
with one wrong touch
would shatter into a myriad of pieces
in a fight against my fist,
it is powerless

so tell me why
such a fragile entity
holds such power
over my life?

tell me why
my reflection
laughs at my confidence
causing the ground to quake
and my heart to flutter.
my certainty begins to dwindle
as the mirror
holds my self-esteem in its clear grasp
and cleaves from me
what little conviction
I have left

tell me why
what stares back
gives me sleepless nights
thinking about the differences
between my reflection
and that of
those surrounding me
although it shouldn’t matter that I’m different
and that I should have pride in being an individual

tell me why the shards hurt
and tear apart my skin
piece by piece
**** by ****
before the glass
has even been broken

tell me why
the eyes of others
make me feel
as if I need to change who I am
to meet their beliefs
of what a girl should be

tell me
what should a girl be?
should she be pretty and poised?
slender and tall?
curvy skin
a full face of seamless makeup?

I am a girl
who is as brave as I am smart
and who is as strong as I am beautiful
and while the shards of glass
and those behind
tell me I am not
I know my place
I know my purpose

I'm taunted by another,
Allured by the attention,
Polishing vanity to a reflective glaze,
Like a winner's cup, held up by the ears,
To display, kiss, and smudge,
Then returned to the rightful owner.
It's an enviable snare,
One may think is sincere,
From here, looking over there.

Mirrors are all traitors
As in them I can see
Just what a monster I am;
That I will always be.
I have lumps and and spots
That make me unloveable.
And everything I eat is
Another bite of trouble.

Why can’t I ever look
Like the models in the book?
Why is it that I
Can’t look myself in the eye?
No one will look longingly
At the gorgon I turned out to be.

I don’t watch cartoons
Because what I see is me
What did I do to deserve
To become so **** ugly?
Did I cross the path of a cat
That was an omen meant to warn
And I ignored it so now
I inherited this awful form?

Why can’t I be the kind
With a beautifully formed behind?
I wish it was my history
To stimulate evil jealousy.

I want to look like a dream,
But instead I must surrender
A fragile wish, as it seems
An unfilled hope altogether.
Some friends are sweet to me
They say I look fine to them,
But I know what I can see
And I deserve no diadem.

I still vividly imagine how;

You were surrounded with swirling color,
When you stood in the middle of rainfall;
Not minding that its still in the afternoon
And all I could mutter was, "Beautiful."

And d'you remember when,

You're playing like a child in a public shower?
Just simply enjoying the falling cold water;
While not minding everyone's whisper.
It's "Candid," and 'twas all I could utter.

Especially that moment when,

You've given the starry sky your full attention,
As you close the book you'll finish later on
While shutting your eyes for appreciation.
And all I could utter was, "What a turn on."

Ah, yes,

Smiling is your way for your scars to heal
Always thanking every bits of love you feel
While empathizing to every relation that would fail
Yet all I could asked you was, "Are you even real?"

…

But you just smiled and said, "Back on the title."

From "can we raise our friendship to next level" to "henceforth no calls or messages" she lost her self esteem.

Haven of saints
A divine harbinger of peace
The calm in storms
Thunderstorm that quiesce
The rose bud that blooms
Birthing beauty; a tender hearted soul
Yet thorny too
It's fate unfolds
A discovery of one's inner soul
Under the veil of noise
Exploration of thoughtful creation
In isolation and poise
A journey to self esteem
Much needed hence preach
We all are belittled by life
And need solitude to love ourselves