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3d · 38
Can I do
Anya 3d
Acedemics, I have some
Art, they say I’m good
They say I’m smart

What if the world was controlled by

Social skills?
Which it partially is

I’m smart
I’m talented
I tell myself

There’s so much-
I keep myself from
Let myself
Be intimidated by

The supposed
Best years of my life
More like





Am I?
Am I really?

I look at those
Worse than me

And I feel secure

I look at those
A seemingly larger majority

And that security unravels
Like a shriveled up plant


It’s scccccintimmmmidate-

I dunno
Why am I in such a mood?

Am I?

If I can’t even,
Get the one think I’m good at right
Can I do?
3d · 31
Anya 3d
I have a box
A nice cozy box
I try to make my way to the
But...I never make it

That doesn’t matter
It’s still fun to try
To push my limits


Still in never out
I won’t go out
I. Can push
But I. Cannot
Go out

Because it’s warm and cozy in this box
I know what I can do,
I know,
The extent of my abilities

Why should,
I push through?

You’ll be regretting those words,
One day
She tells me

I don’t care

But what if
Your protected world




7d · 40
Anya 7d
My mouth, awash with the remnant of the 320 calorie pack of six oreos I know I shouldn't have bought
My eyes glazed after succumbing to the irresistible allure of hours of youtube rather than the exam I should be studying for
My mind entrenched in every ****** thing I've ever said or done (quite a list if I may say so myself)
When all you see is a little girl
Studiously typing away
Anya Feb 10
The strands tangle and twist
As if my finger,
Is the center of a tiny universe
Of interlocking twining twirling black
With a simple twist and snap
Are ripped,
Star crossed lovers
Every Romeo to his Juliet
Are rip, rip, ri-torn apart
The hair from the hair tie

Like tentacles clinging on
A stubborn slug, repulsive
Yet in an obscure manner
Admiringly persistent
It continues to hold on

Like a lizard regrows it’s tail
To truly chop off
So too does the hair insist
Upon an adamant refusal to separate

As if hair and tie are one
In a ferocious battle...     Or,
Perhaps, a passionate embrace?
Are they one?

Whether it be so or not
I decide not to bother
Why,  should I take up the mantle
Of the evil stepmother, wicked witch, cruel king...
You name it
To separate the two, lovers or competitors
They maybe

Why insist,
Upon what will never
Come true,
At least,
In the case of any proper Disney fairy tale

Is what I tell myself,
throwing down the hair tie
In favor of writing poetry about it
Jan 31 · 147
An Internal Struggle
Anya Jan 31
A fist bump
My hand-wet
Yuck, no, no, no

A smile
Can't see the joke
Weird, no no no

They turn
Eyes meet?
What it means?
What it means?

Don't ask me.

Don't LOOK
Don't SEE
Just let me be
Just let me be             free
From this endless torment
by the name of
social anxiety
Anya Jan 17
On the girl's side:

Are you going to winter formal?
No, I wish I was. They even have a candy bar.

On the boy's side:

Theoretically, if I was to consume cyanide...
You know you could...

On the girl's side:

Look at how perfectly I filled the gel!
Yeah, girl power!

On the boy's side:

Who filled the gel C?
I'll use you for my source of error.

On the girl's side:

Eugh, beef tacos:
I never eat them, only paninis and pizza...sometimes

On the boy's side:

Ooh, beef tacos!
Finally something good to eat.

I find myself smiling. It is true, I'm only describing a tiny microcosm
Not nearly enough,
to make conclusions

Aligning to stereotypes?

Maybe, I don't know
But I do know,
While listening,

I was fighting to keep a smile off my face
How funny people can be when you remove yourself from
Main character to audience
Jan 12 · 83
The Fight for Control
Anya Jan 12
We-I am so silly clinging
To that little bit of control
When out of place
Out of shape SO annoying
In my face
I HAte it
It has to be RIGHT
or it could be WrOng but I say
It’s right so it’s Right
Jan 10 · 142
Anya Jan 10
Click Click clickety-click
A rolling laughter in waves,
Increases like a storm, then comes spinning down
In little bouts,  Actually
My to do list stretches quite long as I enjoy frequently reminding myself
Feeling busy
Feeling like I'm useful
I have things
to do
For some reason
Maybe none,
I don't
Open my tab
and do them
Click Click clickety-click
Jan 2 · 270
Lunch Time at My House
Anya Jan 2
It’s moments like this
Some obscure song playing on our google home

My brother, gazing off into the distance no doubt under the spell of some great philosophical inquiry,
Neglecting the spoon and it’s contents
Drip drip dripping

My mother in the corner, seemingly preoccupied, slender fingers probing what appears to be
Yet another bag
Of those chocolate covered toffee almonds

My father, ever the victor in competitive eating, up and roaming about
By the window one moment, at the couch the next
Gone like the wind, oh here he comes

Meanwhile I, face a great trial which I must overcome in order to greet my destiny
At the top of which await
Dozens upon dozens of procrastinated
Assignments just calling to me
Stirring up within me a desire,
A ferocious flaming ambition,
To not move an inch
Jan 2 · 170
Fate of a Binger
Anya Jan 2
A groan
A moan
Head ready to burst
Pickkkkk it upppp, yessssshhh
The traitorous voice hisses within
Pikkkkk it up and alllll your worrrrries are gonnnnneeeeee
I try-TRY to resist
Six is more than enough!
This vicious cycle cannot continue!

Too late
I’m binging on another tub of ice cream for another hour of Netflix
And another splitting headache coming right up
Jan 2 · 342
Anya Jan 2
My mind offers a compromise
Which is instantly refuted
Shot down
I’m absolutely amazed by the sheer
Number of superficial constraints placed
Upon me, my superstitions, my desires, my obligations
Each one currently impossibly to fulfill
Each side impossible to sait

And so,
A stalemate
Sitting here, doing nothing
Unmoving, but
Thoughts whirling about
Fidget spinners, or
Bablades repeatedly clashing
Repeatedly smashing
Till it’s just me and the broken debre

All you see
Is a girl
Too lazy to move
Dec 2018 · 117
Anya Dec 2018
There are certain words
Like, peppermint
That just make you taste sweet
And warmth
A cozy afternoon
By the fireplace
On Christmas
Dec 2018 · 34
Anya Dec 2018
Today I drank straight peppermint tea
Normally I’d sweeten it
With spoonfulls of
Sugar or honey

Today I read five chapters straight
Normally I’d take
Frequent breaks

Today I didn’t check my phone once
Normally I’d do it at least
Seven times

We’ve all gotta grow up
Some time
I guess
Dec 2018 · 94
From a Thinker to a Doer
Anya Dec 2018
Poetry is for thinkers, I think
Those who’d spend their days dreaming away
Or those who, in a moment of passion
Scrawl down their thoughts
On little post it note poems
No matter the medium
Though, one can not deny
Poetry is for thinkers

Now, this past week I’ve been a doer
Typically, my lazy temperament
Would prevent this
But things happened
And more things needed doing
Without a doer to do them

And now my mind has switched
And all I can think to do is do
Rather than think to think, reflect
My mind has transformed
From a dreamland
To a bucket list
Dec 2018 · 75
How to Fix a Broken
Anya Dec 2018
Awkward smiles
We try
Ha, ha, ha
Act like it’s all good
Touching the surface, greatly scratching, bearly a ripple
We easily avoid it, the clean, smooth, pristine surface
Skirt around disturbing it’s placed waters
Skirt around saying what really needs to be said
Instead we laugh, and smile
Weaving a masterpiece
Of our own

Some may blame this course of action but,
What if we do disturb the sleeping lion
What then
What then?
Are we afraid of
Our perfect facade
Perfect visage breaking
Shattering into millions of tiny pieces
Too small to reattach

“But if it’s broken can’t you just fix it?”
“How, Sweetie?”

“My mommy always puts a band aid on my boo boos”
“But it’s not a boo boo, it’s completely broken.”

“Then why don’t you just build it again?”
“With legos! That way it’ll be taller and even better!”

Ha, ha, ha, ha
Sometimes the answer is right there
Dec 2018 · 81
Musings of a Tired Girl
Anya Dec 2018
Her words, a steady stream
I tried
To smile, stifling a yawn my glazed eyes wandering over to
Our bookshelf the recently bought ACT prep book aligned with a
More appealing Children’s poetry

“But then she was like”
My attention snaps back to the present
And I smile and nod
Like I understand, which I do, don’t get me wrong I just

May have forgotten to change the towel
And the clothes in the dryer
Oh also, i still haven’t gotten around to that essay
My current average really doesn’t sit well with me not to mention
The excercises for-

“And I was like ***!”
I unintentionally smile, the same story
The same pattern again
Never ending, seemingly
What is this, some sort of drama of a stereotypical teenage girl?
Is there secretly a film crew behind the scenes
A script inserted in our brains
Of this monotonous constant
Unending story?

But maybe if I’m truly unsatisfied,
The fact that I’m
Right here, right now
Feeling it, proves
That I have the capacity to desire change
And maybe,
Achieve it?
Dec 2018 · 105
Out of the Box
Anya Dec 2018
Superficial rules we create
We confine ourselves within boxes
Answering a desperate plea for order
Some semblance of control, of understanding,
Shape, within shapeless mass, shapeless space
We build cages, chains, interlocked, intertwined

Yet, a common phrase
“Think outside of the box”
We acknowledge,
This cage
And in many cases it can be good
But we also acknowledge,
That to truly come up with something great, unique, to leave a
Lasting mark
One must think outside of the box left behind by our predecessor’s
Thoughts outside of their box
Which form our box

It’s like

Understand how to read notes
Before you compose your own

Know the color wheel
Before you experiment

Read books,
Before your write one

Maybe that’s where successful people come from,
People who manage to learn about their box
Well, before they manage to
Break it’s boundaries

And each minute, each second, each millisecond, each
This is happening again, and again
Our cages being broken
Reforged, anew

And through the internet, the media, mordern communications
Knowledge of this new box, these new boundaries
Can be spread

To pique another child or adult’s interest
Until the boundaries are broken
Once again
A cycle
On repeat

Until finally-

Is it like the universe,
Ever expanding,
Infinitely large
Without an end?
Dec 2018 · 222
A Message to the Spectator
Anya Dec 2018
The taste of tension, like water, plain but there
Invisible, but felt
A faint undercurrent, a barely detectable wave

Physically, fine, well most of us
But mentally, a little shaky
Slightly off
Not easily detectable

Our lips graced by bald faced sugary sweet smiles
Don't look at the mouth, look at the eyes
Where the truth screams out at you
If, you can detect it

His antics, a little over the top
Her quirks, just slightly more enhanced
But even then,
You can't truly know what's going on behind the curtain
Unless you forcefully lift
That could possibly damage it
Dec 2018 · 140
Anya Dec 2018
There's crumbs, all over my computer, all over my pants, all over
Entropy, the natural state is it?
Humans attempting to force the unnatural?
The little graham ******* crumbs,
nothing keeping them together
But still, each individual crumb upon my lap houses millions of billions of trillions of
Individual pieces, that house
And so on               and                  So forth
Till you get to atoms
And eventually,

But, is it worth,
Looking, thinking, so infinitesimally small
We've got bigger matters on our plate?
Things so large, red, and shiny, that they take up all the space
Except the little cracks that we miss,
Or don't care about altogether

Because we've got bigger fish to fry

But then,
If we always keep chasing the dragon,
Won't we miss the shooting star lighting up the sky for just a moment?
As I was writing this I found multiple surprisings interpretations. That's why I gave it that title, it's filled with meaning yet a random mess at the same time.
Dec 2018 · 76
Mascot Words
Anya Dec 2018
There are certain words...
Like, depression
That become the mascot
For their particular affliction
An all encompassing bubble,
Doesn’t mean much
But liver cancer, now that’s a whole nother matter

Just simply using the word
Gives rise to panic.         Anxiety
It makes sense,
That non experts can’t know every type of
Illness or mental disorder out there
So they associate it with a mascot

It’s all the unessesary hype
And fear
The baggage that comes with it
Not as many, knew about zeka
But Ebola?
That was all over the news
Despite being far less of a threat
Simply because,
It became the mascot
Dec 2018 · 51
Anya Dec 2018
A moment of peace I call it
Rather, in a rapidly moving tornado
A single coherent thought
may  be called a moment of peace
Yet here,
Sitting on this hard wooden chair, strong against my back
It is not quite,
a moment of peace
For in this case it is not the tornado,
that gives me reprieve
But I myself,
Choosing to ignore it and let it
at the back of my mind and
Come back to bite me
Dec 2018 · 56
On New Year's
Anya Dec 2018
Children are...
rather innocent creatures
Or at least,
in my protected, childhood of fairy tales
Princesses and superheroes and talking frogs
My third grade diary when asked to name something precious
Unlike toys unbreaking
Keeps you happy and safe
precocious I was at that
but still too much

As I still am,
of course
See, the thing about adolescence
Hormones raging, from crushes to bullying to acting out
The time when we
We're out of the                     Naive
                  Quite dangerous, really
Since, we're really Not

A whole butload of
                               stuff I'll probably
Be subject to and
May have been earlier if not for
My reclusive tenancies
and lazy ways
and protected life

I say it,
In a careless manner
Trying to look cool, even in poetry
But, like, it's going to happen
I'm going to come face
to face
Have to make
a choice
And it's nothing to be intimidated about
I tell myself
Truly a question
to consider,

I'm assuming,
one day I'll mature
And when that day comes...

Will I still be the little girl
With the two bouncing pigtails
Scrunched up face
Pencil too tight grip
Oval eyes, smiley lips, long hair
My nth drawing of a girl?

Mind uncluttered
with what could be
         what should be
         what would be
Only, what is
And what I want

But as the clock strikes twelve another day has gone by
and it's well past time for me to go to bed
Another year, past
More time gone by
More memories to reminisce about
Also more to look forward to
Dec 2018 · 65
The objects in my Closet
Anya Dec 2018
The golden baby
In the last slice of Mardigras cake

A half dollar
Well after they stopped being printed

A rare right sided conch
When most others are left

Are the rare treasures I find buried underneath

The glass bird
Dainty as can be
And the size of a nail

The miniature tea cup
A full set
Spoon and all

The Minni and Miki
Mouse holiday wear
mini collectibles

Miniature Kitty Kat
In four different colors

Are the tiny bobbles I couldn’t bear to part with

The multitudes of dice
From classic six sided
To 8 To 12
Even dice in dice
More than can be counted

Erasers by the gazillions
Stingrays, baseball gloves
Eraser pencils with missing erasers
And a baby head detached from the body

Keychains, by the plenty
Sunglasses, Weapons
Dream catchers, bird’s with bells, all sorts
Of strange and curious oddities attached to a chain

Coins, many sizes countries
Fake, real
Dinar, Rupee, Euro, dollar,
Replica of ancient yuan

Don’t even get me started
Necklaces, bracelets
Rings and earrings
Even though my ears aren’t pierced!

My hoarding tendencies coming to light in this
Curious collection of collections
Also known as
The objects in my closet
I was looking through my closet and I just had to make a poem about it.
Dec 2018 · 204
To Go
Anya Dec 2018
It’s frigid
My entire left side
Is being pelted with snow
And wind
And cold
But for a moment it’s nice
This numb, space of time
When no obligations
Nothing, is
pressing down

Only where I’ve been
And where I have
To go
Dec 2018 · 104
In the Snow
Anya Dec 2018
A dry voice echos
Of course I wear tennis shoes
On the day they’ll grow wet enough
To go squeak
Squeak squeaking around
The shiny white floors

While my dark hair quickly
Becomes flecked with
White speckles

I feel rather
Like a scarecrow
Doing my best to resist
Nature’s whims
Fighting a losing battle
An inescapable fate

Of being blown away
And buried
In the snow
Nov 2018 · 253
Anya Nov 2018
Shall I leap
Or step back

Retain the blanket of security
Or explore the uncharted waters of uncertainty

Say what comes will come,
Or grasp the minimal control

Free fall?
Or use the stairs?

One is riskier,
The other is safer,


Then, she says something to me
that makes me realize
my foolishness

We're in the age of computers and technology
If I'm facing a risky proposition,

Why not look it up?
Sometimes we make a big deal out of nothing.
Nov 2018 · 82
Through a Cloud
Anya Nov 2018
Have you ever felt like
you're walking through
a cloud?

The noise surrounds
but doesn't
you'r enclosed
but separate figure

but out

The colors,
within your vision
but               a blur
Once again,

Her gaze
naturally passes
By, his voice
Some where else

But not to
But more like

Nov 2018 · 243
One and the Same
Anya Nov 2018
I internally sneered
at her disjointed manner

Externally cheerful
but actually proud that I wasn't her

Acting like her friend
But only, when it was convenient or I felt pity

Seeming to mind my own business
But chastising her inside

I wondered what was going on
Everything she did
wasn't malicious
She simply didn't know
But why did I act the way I did
But today I understand
She and I,
are one and the same
I took an event that occurred with me back in middle school, elongated it a little bit and wrote it into this poem.
Nov 2018 · 81
Anya Nov 2018
I have a friend
She has a prickly
Lashing out at

Last year
She god a pet
It died two weeks later

Sometimes the shield we put up
Hurts us
Nov 2018 · 453
Anya Nov 2018
I just fake it
It’s easier

The test was hard
Even though,
I got a 98%

He has a bad personality
Even though,
He’s been nothing less
Than polite
To me

She’s so amazing at it
Even though,
I’m not too far behind

Their relationship is going to fail
Even though,
I think it’s rude
To gossip
Behind their

These things...
And more,
It doesn’t
Even if I explain
Will people even listen?

I let it be
It’s             Easier
I mean,
Not when it directly hurts
I do have a bottom line

But otherwise...
With shades of gray
To differentiate


I guess...
I’ll let it be

After all,

Sometimes in life it’s really hard to know when to step in and ne when to mind your own business. And there are times when others naturally believe you agree with them but you’re to tired to explain your specific circumstances to them and just go along with what they say.
Nov 2018 · 76
Thanksgiving Thanks
Anya Nov 2018
Today’s thanksgiving
So I figured,
Perfect day to give thanks
To a few people,
Mind you,
This isn’t in order,

1) my little brother
For lighting up my life
Letting me
Become a Candice
Or Peppa pig
Or any one of those
Big Sisters
I no longer carry envy for

2) The dad who
Has given me a mix
Of his
Extreme childish-
(He’s calling me now to make a turkey out of pistachio shells)
Yet contrasting
Acedemicly telented
Stern demeanor
While pushing my brother and I
And having high experctations while giving
Us the freedom
To forge our own path

3) The mother
Who is so enthusiastic
Talkative, sharing with me
The habit of
Binging on chocolates
Whose nagging
Has propelled me
To do things
I would
Have never
Seen myself

4) The best friend
Who’s probably currently
On Assasin’s Creed
Or some other video game
Besides Fortnite
Which she insists doesn’t have a
Good story line
Whose milder temperment
Puts up
With my overly excitable
And who strongly stands
For what’s right
Following her dream
Of being a police
Despite condemning politics as

5) The three friends
Who stayed in touch
After elementary school
Who filled
My days with pretending
To be Elemental Mages
Reenact the Hunger Games
Warrior Cats
Although no one ever listened
When I was the medicine cat!
Who gave me an outlet
For my quirky
Book loving

6) The three friends
At my current school
Despite splits
Break ups
And an occasional
Difficulty finding
Were the first
Of mine
At this school
And my anime pals
And for my years of
Middle school
Kept me

At this point I could probably start going off on
The tmpermental grandma
Who called my nose big
And whom I was mildly averse
(For good reason)
Until I saw a photo
Of her smile,
Holding me as a baby

Or the pink heart shaped flowers
That I’d look forward to
Every spring
Until our newly constructed sun room
Destroyed them

And on
  And on
     And on

But nah,
Those were some of my top ones
Thanks for reading!
Nov 2018 · 101
A Poet’s Paranoia
Anya Nov 2018
I heard some guy
“People with ADHD will be good at poetry cause random things pop in their heads”
That got me thinking
Makes someone good at poetry?
Is it, as he believed
       With              No
            Rhyme           Or

Or it is...
That we have,    A unique way
To looking at      Things
A different         Perspective
Which may often be

Or at least,
Being easily misunderstood
We just need

Or we just like words?
And patterns
And sounds
Oh well,

I’ve often wondered
About this
That poets are

It’s not true,
We’re not even different
We’re just people who have something
In common
That brings us together
In this
I’m just not certain...
If there is,
Nov 2018 · 167
Anya Nov 2018
Ought to do
What a strange word indeed
Very different
From “will”
Will do
Rather like it’s
Following behind      the child
Stubbornly refusing the jacket
To wear
Like now I “ought” to sleep.
Nov 2018 · 92
At Peace
Anya Nov 2018
It’s     Odd...
I’ve been all over the couch
Munching on anything
That gets
Within         My line of sight

   But now,
Lying here
Strewn on the floor
Like a broken toy
I       Feel


At peace
Nov 2018 · 770
Life So Beautiful
Anya Nov 2018
I’m meeting a friend tomorrow, one I haven’t seen in some years save for the incidental meeting a week ago that sparked this reunion

My thoughts,      Reminiscent, tinged with melancholy for that time dotted with puffs of whip cream, sugar, sparkles, and joy spilling from the sky

We were mages one moment,
The elements at
Our beck and call
With a flick of our hands

Warrior cats the next
Loyally guarding
Bravely scarring

We lives in our world of monsters, and magic, and peach fuzz

None of the extra complications, the insecurities, the splotches marring our once vibrant and lovely canvas, turning it from a rainbow sparkle unicorn a mare

More time for text books
         Less time for novels
More time for homework
         Less time for TV
More time for crushes and heartbreak and insecurities and tears
          Less time to run straight ahead without a care in the world

Reality, setting in like large boulders, so heavy and present, jutting into your life, impossible to unsee


It’s not all planes crashing and burning, because now that she’s no longer made up into a sparkle pony, you can see the mare for the

beauty she is
Nov 2018 · 168
Anya Nov 2018
I'm a little

To open up that

That desire
A never dulling     -

How to keep it-
at bay

The desire to       excel      exceed        

A calm,
Should           I
Open this

Nov 2018 · 1.5k
Holding Myself Back
Anya Nov 2018
Hey, past me from so close yet seeming long ago...

A knot from my sweater's bow I regret tying despite how unkempt the ribbons look hanging by my sides because now it's digging into my back

The hair I can't decide if I want out where it's pretty and makes me look less like a generic nerd yet gets in my face and food and life

The jeans I insist upon wearing without a belt even though their slipping down my **** may actually outweigh the pain of loosening the belt

The tennis shoes I'm too attached to give up that emit a constant squeak, squeak, squeaking through the hallways whether it's caused by residual rain from outside or not

The glasses, fond of slipping down my nose at frequent intervals, covered in smudges I rarely notice till they get out of hand

The phone whose screen happened to ***** at the most inopportune moment and takes forever to read my finger print

The jacket that should be a highlighter blue but rather presents itself as a canvas of the week's tomato stains

The face covered in acne-
The stomach with fat instead of muscle-
The arms lacking muscle-
The legs with too much hair-

I've always acknowledged that perfection is not possible, yet I have to at least try to strive

I think, as I sit at my desk, fingers typing fragmented sentences, attempting to convey thoughts speeding too fast to grasp

Yet, just a simple poem of reflection brings to light these numerous deficiencies, many of which I COULD fix were it not the invisible fiend upon whom I stamp the label-laziness

These deficiencies, many of which aren't even noticed by those around me, some of whom are better some are worse

But it's not as simple as that, I've known I can't just be "one of the people", I need to find something, some identity, some way out of my seemingly impossible to escape label of "just above average"

In academics, in extracurricular activities, EVERYTHING, I seem to be at a stagnant

I've done bad, I've done "just above average", but never above. What is the point if you get plenty of losses and plenty of "fine" but no victories?

It's something about me though, somehow I believe, subconsciously, I'm impeding myself. I'm holding myself back.


A rant. The use of long sentences which I rarely use was inspired by Marie Howe's "What the Living Do".
Nov 2018 · 72
Fish in Pond
Anya Nov 2018
Rather to be...
A big          fish
In a           small pond
Or small        fish
In a         big pond
I've come across this question
a        lot

Whether to be a lead        in the middle school play
Or an extra    in the high school play

To be top of          JV
or to be bottom of  Varsity

To get A's in           regular math
Or B's in accelerated

To be the best         of the worst
To be the worst         of the best

Is a question,
Grappling             with
Nov 2018 · 108
Anya Nov 2018
Some say to fear the dark
Yet, unlike day
It offers a sense of comfort
Enveloped within
A blanket of invisible space
Free from searching eyes
And the terrifying
Nov 2018 · 161
Anya Nov 2018
Happy, warm, safe
In my couch
Into soft
Quite      nice
     No obligations
My mind         drifts                        away
And my body,
This poem was purely motivated by feelings, no specific intentions behind it.
Nov 2018 · 165
The People Pleaser
Anya Nov 2018
Awwww, you're so pure?
Why,        IS it
I                           insist                               upon
my                   friends
and they cannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnot
take it
at                all?
I'm dubbed                                   pure
            a people
Terrified                            of                    social       rejection
so I try too hard
to be
that                                                 "nice"
But,                      is she me?
                                          I do see the good
                                                               in others
                                         And the
            Letting one out
Keeping the other
In         secure
Criticisms layered,                       with little
                   as soft
and mushy
            No hard edges
    Overly soft,
As if one               were                     protecting                  
                             a child


Sometimes, I feel this way. It's like I'm fake but real at the same time.
Oct 2018 · 85
Anya Oct 2018
Throwback to middle school
We were dorks
Who didn’t care

We do
And they try
I don’t

There’s all that
“The best smile is natural”   But people
Still wear it
Even when they         Preache

There’s nothing wrong
Highlights certain
Gives a new look

And aesthetics
Are valued
In our

Is it I sign
Of insecurity if it’s
Worn every day?

Or is it just like
Wear whatever
You want
And shape your

I don’t
Want to judge
I don’t mean
To judge
There’s no need
To judge

They only reason
I don’t wear
It is

Is it really though?
Or is it,
That I don’t care?

Our society has
An obsession     With

Which one matters more?
I guess...
It’s up to the
Oct 2018 · 108
What is a Crush?
Anya Oct 2018
What is,
A Crush?

Seeing yourself
In someone else
Noticing their flaws,
And finding them,

Noticing someone
Who fits your image
Of a stereotypical,
Boy next door
Cute girl
Hot guy/girl?

Someone who,
Makes you roll
On the floor in laughter
Who can,
Always incite a smile
On the worst of days?

There’s plenty
More I could name
But I dunno
What is a Crush?
Anya Oct 2018
Category 2,
not too bad...
Swirling, whirling
Pounding, hounding
Rolling, Spinning

Category 3...
Freight train,
coming from every direction
Major, but nothing new

Just an hour
Hold on,
We'll pull through

Pressure suddenly
Ears constantly

Category 4,
Too late
My father's sharp

Pieces of homes
ripped off like flakes of skin
Leaving the ground barren
Only the bear bones
possibly remaining
Till they too,
are forcefully wrenched

A majestic structure,
now reduced
to *******

Mother nature
hurling trees
in her

of seconds

The roar
mirroring the one,
in my head-telling me to

The world...
a symphony
of rage, ferocity, passion
Violent reds,
splotches of
orange and fuchsia
I unfortunately,
trapped within
As the clashes and roars
Waves and cutting wind
Swirl around me, I wonder,
is this,
what an insect feels like,
stuck in a washing machine?

Come to bed,
my father calls
I go,
to the pillows and covers
that should be warm and soft,
but to my touch,
appear frigid

My eyeballs
practically popping
until at
some unknown time,
they shut
and I



Sunlight streams in,
A dream?
Oh, if only...

Unable to contain the hope,
I leap up to my window-      And freeze

not trees,
not homes,
not anything
Just a mass of objects rendered useless and stamped with the label of
My father says,
No more running water

My neighbor's little blue
in shambles

as I step outside
After what seems,
like a long arduous battle
I was an unlucky
caught in the middle

Despite the
churning feeling
in my stomach          The broken battered *******,
the ruined property       The, miserableness
Of the situation

But then again...
As my father,
Thanks the Lord
My mind,
is blown away
As I stand,
In awe
as my eyes take in the majesty
of those few,
hundred year old houses
still standing
To clarify-I was not in hurricane Michael, this is only my attempts at imagining what happened coupled with you-tube videos.
Anya Oct 2018
When I'm on a field
I can be free

When I'm with my family
I can be free

When I'm with little children
I can be free

When I write
I can be free


But when I'm anywhere else
I'm constrained by
a cage known as-
self consciousness
social anxiety
She comes by many names

By any chance,
are you familiar with her?
I’m sure you are

You may have met her,
In JK,
When you found out there’s a difference
Between a boy
And a girl

You may have met her,
In the playground
When you were
The only one
Who though
“Fashion show”

You may have met her
When that annoying
Red head
Kept saying
Your underwear
During P.E.

You may have met her
In middle school
When you had your
First crush
But everyone insisted
You liked

You may have met her
When every one
Of your friends
Was in
But you
Couldn’t wrap
Your head
Rational functions

You may have met her
When every one of your friends
Had success branded
On their foreheads
With their futures
Straight through
A paved road
While you
Were left
A forest

You may have met her
In any number
Of places
With any number
Of people
With any number-

Even in the sock
You forgot had a hole
In it,
And wore to school

She’s obviously
So you can’t ignore her
Hating on her,
Just makes
You hate yourself

Why not become her friend?
Oct 2018 · 489
Numbed by my Tongue
Anya Oct 2018
A glance
The little black figures
of endless text
pass me by
my eyes
seeing nothing
but little
A stick
slathered in
chocolate, and hazelnut
the sweet
The crunch makes me
The sounds
pelting me
things to do
things to hear
being blown away
in the wind
past my
A lone
buzz takes
The sprite
gluggs down
my lungs
A crinkle
from the now,
The led
****** my fingers the
keys click clikety click as I
tap tapety tap
the computer keys the
piano keys
tingety ting
as I push
that little piece of dirt I
rub rub Rub RUB
scratch SCRATCH
The frozen
unbelievable painfully
sweet sweetness
numbs my
cold as
ice freezes
my brain
My brain
My brai
My bra
My br-
My b-
in a blanket of
my tongue is all I know
as I
It's a strange feeling I've tried to inscribe onto these pages. A bit dark, obsessive, attempting to numb obligation with food, some OCD in there. But all of these are maybes, interpret it as however you'd like I hope you find it interesting.
Oct 2018 · 210
Whimsical Thought
Anya Oct 2018
Upon the clouds
The whimsical thought
Plops down
Falls straight through
The gaseous H2O
Into my head
Causing it to be penned
Which you have now read
Oct 2018 · 147
Anya Oct 2018
Poetry is easier
Than socializing

Because in poetry
One can get it all out
In one go,
Without being
Hindered by

People get to comment
Without being
Unable to listen to the whole story
Anya Oct 2018
I just realized,
I have a painting of
A pineapple
In my room
Made by
Yours truly

I have a pineapple
Hat bought on a whim
At Walmart
Last year

I have a newly bought
Because of
The sheer

I nearly googled pineapple
I used to watch Sponge Bob
(For those of you who don’t know, he lives in a pineapple)
I don’t even eat pineapples that much
What’s going on?
I think multiple
Sets of coincidences
Became a serious
But I don’t have a pineapple obsession!
Do I?
Possible weird, mildly worrying obsession of your own? Feel free to comment!
Anya Oct 2018
I asked my little brother
why he bought
the tape white out
not the liquid
the length of two whole
strips of white out
matches the size
of a Megalodon
A shark
two million
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