#scholarship
i try not to get my hopes up
for something
that could never happen
but no matter how many times
i tell myself
that i can't get my hopes up
i do
and i end up getting disappointed
every time
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 8:41 PM UTC
Good grades will get me into next year.
Then be able to graduate with a 4.0 GPA.
I wouldn’t have to worry about student debt
Because it’d be covered by a scholarship.
I could finally get into an Ivy League Law School,
Get the credentials for a high-paying job,
And have a family I’ve always dreamed about.
But does having good grades make me happy?
Do I find any joy on not getting to sleep,
Trying to figure out what x+y equals
Or writing essays on Abraham Lincoln?
We all know I’m never using this in real life.
So sorry I’ve failed you mamí,
But a 9-5 job isn’t the life for me.
Jan 24, 2021
Jan 24, 2021 at 1:23 PM UTC
We've been taught to hide behind prose
So that no matter what the words say nobody truly knows
What's going through our heads
Ever hour until we finally turn in to our beds.
So for me it all started as a game of hide and seek
Seen as childish by older men
Who couldn't see past the flowery words
To the core of the issues I wanted to scream
But instead played off as a simple dream.
Somehow the simple game turned nightmare, and
These words became my walls.
The cold walls of a prison I had build for myself
Splattered with the bright colors of better times;
Times I didn't see crying out for help as one of my biggest crimes.
Days passed on, and I thought my personal winter was coming.
Yet time seemed to stop when his calloused hands touched the walls.
They were neither harsh nor gentle..
Many of those before him treated these walls as a rental,
But he came to scrape the color away and remind me of where I was.
His lips spilled the secret of how some could see.
They could see past the beauty to my heartfelt, tender plea.
These were the ones my words could speak to beyond a shadow of a doubt
And these lines could be their inner heart's water in a life long drought.
This journey of poetry has had as many paths for me as the stars
And each have coincided with my own private scars.
Words have become my olive branch,
My sword,
My soul's ward against demons that can't be ignored.
A life without prose is not what I chose,
And so forever shall I walk on the path of the wild rose.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
Lonely words on paper sing
Black ink sways to and fro
I staple the sheets to hand them in
At nine o’clock tomorrow
Lonely words on paper sing
Praises of a higher kind, although
These fall off their papery wings
Down they spiral, down they go
And hell it burns these wondrous things
Lonely words on paper lie
So for their errors, for their sins
Consumed by flame, their praises die
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 3:38 PM UTC
They never said when
And time trickled on
Assignments came and went
Shows were performed
Tests were studied for
And taken in due course.
But...
They never said when
And her mind kept churning the idea
Slowly it twirled
Around and around in her head
Until she could taste the possibilities:
Smooth and creamy
And a little nutty
Like her soul
But she couldn't be sure.
So she fussed
And she kept herself
Outrageously busy
But now and then she thought of it
And her pulse raced
Her brow furrowed
As she tried to bully her wishes into reality
In spite of her fear
That she would be made a fool.
Finally...
Her world was packed
In a black room
And she was more nervous
Than she had been in her life
She made sure to wear
The white sweater
And the gold scarf
Just in case
Someone would look at her
The world went still
The words were said
And somehow she knew.
She knew what he was going to say
Before he said it because
She wasn't in her body
Her life was a hard back book
With well worn edges
And a ***** cloth cover
Where heroines
Can get anywhere
With hard work
And a lot of coffee.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC