I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
always restless and wild from the start
nothing could contain me or dim my spark
leg braces, overprotective parents
it didn’t matter
I always found a way to make trouble,
to investigate,
always too curious for my own good
and too dramatic and emotional
for mostly everyone
always good at making people
uncomfortable
sometimes it’s a curse,
sometimes it’s a blessing
can’t change this part of myself
I have, am and will always
be like this
Happy International Workers Day! I wrote this poem a few years ago reflecting on what achieving my American dream looked like at the time.
I am a slave to the severe master
of capitalism and greed
Risking my mental and physical health
to get closer to the haves
New car, new therapist–
Am I closer to the American dream yet?
Capitalism and greed has become my religion
The curse of consumerism some say
The curse of wanting better for me I say
Greed and capitalism–
is the American way
for my American Dream
Life on the BPD 