"homeschooled" poems
Flashback to as far back as the mind goes,
Masculinity is mighty and feminism is flawed,
Man is right and woman is wrong,
Boy is strong and girl is weak,
I’m a gentleman as long as I’m on top,
She can’t speak unless spoken to,
No place for women at the pulpit,
Men can’t learn from lesser beings.
Flashback to four years old,
The first time he was told,
Homosexuals will burn eternally,
Because they’re *******
He said God doesn’t love them,
They’re an abomination to creation.
Flashback to age twelve,
Welcome to the USA,
Export the Mexicans,
Eliminate the rag heads,
Burn the gays.
Flashback to seventh grade,
She left him for her,
The hate talk convinced him,
All gays were wrong always.
Flashback to freshmen year,
It was Halloween,
Debate class in the morning,
She was dressed as a nerd,
But obviously that so wasn’t her,
Because she was Iranian,
He asked where her turban was,
Said her outfit wasn’t complete without it.
Flashback to the close-minded, conservatively, homeschooled child,
Racism was as familiar as his father’s laugh,
Sexism known like the scent of his mother’s casseroles,
Ignorance was his bestfriend,
And hate pumped through his veins.
I don’t know if right wing racist remarks are forgivable,
But the one he was bred to despise showed nothing but forgiveness.
The Iranian girl shed tears,
Which caused him to shed his foggy lens,
For the first time, he saw his own sins,
A joke rooted in hate hurt an innocent girl,
An innocent tear hurt an ignorant boy,
I am an ignorant boy,
I felt her pain,
I stabbed myself with shame,
She befriended me,
She forgave.
Flawed people produced twisted identification,
She isn’t the Iranian girl,
Just a person.
Mexican, black, dark skinned, or light,
Christian, Atheist, Muslim,
Left wing or right,
Straight, gay, man, woman,
Irrelevant.
Mexican, black, dark skinned, or light,
Christian, Atheist, Muslim,
Left wing or right,
Straight, gay, man, woman,
Human.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 3:01 PM UTC
You struggled to make friends the first day of high school.
You lied about your interests, and changed your style
Just to be in a group
Who got drunk every Friday, and high every Saturday.
Who screamed, **** ******* get money,” at the top of their lungs
Like it was their teenage religion, and they were the preachers.
From being homeschooled, to participating in that cross-faded crowd,
It was a big leap for you merely to say the phrase, the prayer,
Much less act upon it, pushing yourself over your limits, once again.
It is your senior year now, and the cliff into chivalry
Is one you could not even consider jumping off anymore.
Your mom drug tests you once a month, shame on her face.
And you have too many petty offences to make anyone outside your group proud.
Sports were too cool for your group; you have to be sober to play, apparently.
And if you had anything higher than a C in a class, you were kicked out.
To “go with the nerd groups” and be the topic of next Friday’s teases.
Now everybody hates you, the kid who was so quiet on the first day
Who is on a path to nowhere, with, **** ******* get money,” as your only prayer.
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 11:57 AM UTC
I am not who everyone expects me to be,
some think I'm a ditzy blonde who can't think for herself,
some think I am one to be pushed over, repeatedly hurt,
some know I have a brain, but expect too much from me.
I do not even know myself anymore...
always compared to my brother,
my aunt, my cousins....
newsflash, I'm not them!! I am who I am.
I am a teenage girl...
I love classical music, I don't just hear the music, I feel it.
I love the opera, there is so much emotion in these.
I love the fine arts, music, museums, art.
It's true I don't love reading, but yet my favorite book is 'To **** a Mockingbird'.
I am homeschooled, so what? Homeschoolers are some of the most brilliant people out there, no one should call us dumb.
I am a blonde, I'm not ditzy, I don't need everyone to tell me things I already know.
I love nature, and photography.
I am great at math, I love it, along with science. I have a 4.0 GPA.
I'm not mall, gossip, and makeup.
I am, sports, cars, weaponry, and music.
I don't wear dresses, and skirts.
I am gym shorts, jeans, tees.
I am a fantastic cook, but I ain't no "house wife" type.
I clean, but if I didn't who else would?
I love kids, but not in my life until after college, and marriage.
Do you get it yet?
I am one of the most honest, trustworthy, kind person there is.
I love easily, but I do not trust as easy.
I trust no one, but I love, and get hurt.
I am a broken spirit, I love, and I forgive too much, I am too trusting.
No one knows me,
like they think they do.
I am who I am,
not who everyone wants me to be.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
i feel the pain of judgement,
i feel the burning eyes of the "normals",
i feel abandoned,
i feel as if no one likes me,
as if I just don't belong,
i have a few friends and that's all,
i'm the ******
homeschooled and apparently homeschoolers have no friends,
that's what they all think,
i miss my home,
my friends,
my old life,
i hate technology sometimes!
it's a wall between real people,
even with "friends" people are on their phones talking to people they aren't with!
they don't talk with the people that are standing right there!!
why can't this generation be different?
why can't we all just talk,
really,
really talk,
i want this so badly,
i've been on the outside for so long,
and it's because people are scared,
and stupid,
they can't see what's right in their face,
they can't see that i'm hurting alone,
alone with my hurting soul.
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 9:09 PM UTC
Snapshots,
So little to remember
Dark rooms,
A dresser against the door,
Shattered windows,
Alone and forgotten
Faces creased into frowns,
Lies, tears and terror.
In truth, just images
From a childhood I can’t remember.
A dog I loved,
Behind the couch
In his golden fur,
Sleeping to a violins melody.
Theatricality in all it’s might,
With logic forced down my throat.
A friend, a foe, an acquaintance all in one.
Six years strong, it’s a wonder we’re not done.
David Bowie to sing me through long nights,
Trapped in a fantasy world to pass by the long days,
Bare feet hard against the pavement,
With continuous failed attempts.
Forced to wear dresses, because that is what girls do,
Bought Barbies instead of Legos, because that is what girls play with,
Books about horses instead of heroes, because that is what girls read.
Dyslexia,
Bad Eye sight,
A speech impediment,
Homeschooled.
Day after day, what did it matter that I’m clever if I’m alone?
No supervision,
Plenty of judgment,
Brewed and engineered by ****
I swore I’d be different,
And so I forgot.
I forgot the life that taught me exactly what not to be.
At 18 my name will change
And these few fuzzy snapshots will fade to black.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 6:31 PM UTC
Homeschooled boy
Tall, blonde
with acne,
holding a lunch pale.
He gives you that
mesmerizing,
innocent,
sweet smile
as you pass in the hallway.
He makes you blush.
He makes you feel special.
never fall for someone like this
They aren't what they seem.
They aren't innocent,
AT ALL.
All they want from a sweet,
Christian girl
is ***
All he wanted was to tell his friends
what he did with me.
He didn't care about me.
He just cared about his image.
He was the new, homeschooled kid
and he wanted to fit in.
Oh but he fit in just fine.
He smoked ****
Little did I know,
because he lied to me
about everything.
In the beginning,
he told me he was an honest person.
Of course I believed him
because I want to see the good in people.
He also asked if I was honest,
I said yes because that was the truth.
One month later,
I found out the truth.
At first I didn't want to believe it,
but he played me.
He lied to me
about who he was,
what he did,
and who he told about us.
This absolutely crushed me.
He was my first boyfriend.
He was just an innocent,
lunch pale-carrying,
boy, right?
all wrong.
I wish I saw the red flags
and never committed to a relationship.
He broke me just as fast as he got me.
and i will never trust again.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 6:40 AM UTC
The day I first met you,
Is a day I will never forget.
I was 10 years old.
Even then I thought that you were beautiful.
I was the new girl.
The teacher told me to go sit down beside of a little girl,
With sandy blonde hair.
The teacher knew she was the only one who would be nice to me,
After all,
Who wanted to be friends with the new kid?
Apparently she did.
I got to know her,
And soon she became my best friend.
I made a promise to her that we would be friends forever,
No matter what.
We were friends for a little while after,
But then something changed.
That something was me.
We hit middle school,
And all of a sudden I was too good for her.
I ignored her,
And when she'd come my way,
I'd turn and walk in the opposite direction.
This I regret,
She did nothing to me,
And I treated her like garbage.
The girl,
The only girl in fact,
Who was nice to me then.
After middle school ended,
I had a change of person.
I left everyone,
And was homeschooled for a year.
I found myself that year.
I also found out that it was ok,
Ok to accept myself,
And be me.
I came back this school year,
5 years after we first met,
And something happened.
I fell in love with a girl,
For the very first time.
I tried to ignore,
And deny it,
Even though I already knew what I was.
She is in my English class,
I sit beside her,
And every day I feel that we get a little bit closer.
Nearly a month ago,
She told me that she liked me,
I told her I felt the same,
And then before I knew it,
We were dating.
She was my girlfriend.
My old bestfriend,
The one who as a child I thought was beautiful,
Is now my girlfriend.
She seems to love me,
I catch her every now and again just smiling at me,
I look up and smile back.
We hold hands,
And hug,
And say I love you...
But as teenage girls,
That's typical behavior.
I want to be out,
With my girlfriend,
And not be shamed.
She says she loves how I express myself....
How is that so,
When I cant even express how I love her?
I'm stuck,
Kissing and loving her,
In private.
But,
At least shes mine.
This is the story of how I fell in love with my bestfriend from 4th grade.
This is the story of my girl.
This is the story of us.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 7:33 PM UTC
These four walls don't fit my baggage
I show up to the house a trademark of my home on their porch
Hoping that this means it will be something like it
I am wrong
Instead of making the inmates feel welcome they're trapped
The woman opens her door and she is smiling
I don't know if she'd be smiling if I were black if I were a refugee
if I had my sexuality printed on my forehead ready for her to judge
But I smile back
Does this mean I'm accepting what she assumes of me
Behind her is a girl
Her mind closed off from the world her mother with the key
Homeschooled to protect her from *** Ed and other awful things
I realize this is where I will have to sleep
We talk until she says that God will never like gays
That you have to realize that you are a Sin before you can truly live as a person
Response with dropped jaw wide eyes knowing I can't cry
So we continue talking abortions **** victims and I don't sleep
I talked to her about these “issues” like I was not one like I was not gay like this isn't a part of me that I am not a sin for I have never experienced prejudice
I'm a white girl with all the privilege
All I know is acceptance
This girl is flipping my world with just a word
This girl is telling me I am not enough
5 days in this house and I feel like I am hiding
how can a person do this for more than 5 days
I've never understood what it's like and I won't
Dinners hands clapped together religion the glue
Praying something so new to me that I don't even know what to do
Conversations and card games so comfortable with each other on Friday
She calls me a friend and I feel like a traitor like I Betrayed my family just with Association
I know that this is not something I should feel but I still do
The morning of we say Bye
Suitcases Packed ready to leave
I grabbed one to take with me
Forgetting we have the same suitcase
I open it up and accidentally I see her baggage
It's heavier than mine
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 10:08 PM UTC
The aftermath
is almost worse than the surprise and maybe
It's just me-
Wrecked after every time we hang out
Becoming so close and intimate and vulnerable with you
Getting into the mindset that we'll be this way for a good while
But we wake up, like a one night stand
And we have to say goodbye
It wrecks me
But it's demanding to be felt now
So I will not hold back even though I'm weak
And I realize after you leave each time
That I'm alone, in a new city, friendless, homeschooled
I don't really have a life anymore
And maybe that's why
Waking up is the worst part
Because we have to throw clothes on a just say goodbye
And I want to steal you for more than a couple hours in an afternoon
Or for a night
I'm clingy and I don't want to let you go.
Because even though I know it's not
It feels like we are so separated. And
It kills me every time I know you left and are doing your life thing.
The aftermath is sometimes worse than the surprise for me.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
I can’t forgive myself
For your mistakes
I still reflect on them as mine
I’m not fine
My freshman year of highschool was a hell
It’s a story I’d rather not tell
But then again I owe it to you- for what I didn’t say I and what I didn’t do
I always came back to the memories of you
A homeschooled girl with Blonde hair
Going with her ambitions without a care for anyone else
As the silent clock struck quarter till 1
The devil addressed our reality with his ******* son
And a sinister smirk
That night came to lurk
And left me in murk
10 lines of powder- I was fine
Nothing wrong with my mind
6 for you and you were gone
But you kept on going- on and on
After the ninth hit I said “Stop”
But you were insisting that you wouldn’t drop
Line 10 you weren’t fine
At 12:46 am on the 11th line you died
Into my arms you fell
And for the longest time I never would tell
Anyone of what happened on that night
Six years later
And I say
That my Dad's death wasn’t in vain
But it was yours that was harder
That cold lifeless head
Those vacant eyes blankly staring at me
Though we didn’t know for certain at the time
I had felt death and had seen it before
I knew you were dead
In the present future I stay awake
Trying to stay sober
As I reflect on my college experience
And the drug intake
This girl- Rosie she was you through and through (other than her hair color)
I Thought that was a sign
But she was taken
And even if she wasn’t
I would not make her mine
But at the same time you were on my mind
So I did drugs to ease the pain
And severely messed up my brain
Lorelei
Use your voice
And sing for the angels
And hopefully you were buried with your tennis racket
I missed your funeral
Our last memory is so surreal
Your hazel eyes met my eyes one last time and we never truly said goodbye
This book
The strife it took to make all of these poems
Doesn’t compare to the magnitude of your death paired with my fathers
This book is dedicated to you
And all mothers and daughters
And for anyone who’s ever lost someone
Life can end as fast as a bullet flies from a shotgun
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 10:24 AM UTC
i walk down these hallways
smiles facing me everywhere
i look.
i try to escape the prison
but never succeed.
some people say that popularity
is a blessing but i say it's a curse.
all my secrets on a spreadsheet
for everyone to see.
every flaw on show like a band
at a concert.
i try to cover them up but never can.
some days i wish i could go back to my old school.
the one where nothing was public.
everything was hidden and known only by my
friends and i.
the place where being unknown was the good thing.
but now you have to be popular.
you can't possibly be unknown unless you're homeschooled.
every day i fantasize about what life would be like if we were all just
unknown
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 3:49 PM UTC
#*The little girl
Had kittens and pups to play with
New to life, herself
She knew the only life with them around
All of five, homeschooled
She had friends
Never left alone
Giggles and smiles
Her parents’ delight*#
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 9:41 AM UTC