I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
I want to scream, I want to cry
I want to throw myself off the precipice of some cliff
but faith whispers to me
“You will not always feel like this”
and slowly I begin to piece myself back together
and It’s hard at first because I don’t know where to start
Because so much in me is shattered and scattered
But somehow I know that faith is by my side
and hope will quickly follow
and I won’t always feel so lonely, so hopeless
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
Old insecurities come to visit me again,
they shake up my newly acquired confidence
they tell me I’m not smart enough and I’ll never be truly loved
They tell the only thing I have going for me is how sexy I can be
Otherwise I’m a waste of a person because of my bpd
And I try to shut it all down and not once again drown
Because I have made so much progress and have come so far
Only to once again fight an anxiety and depression war
but it’s daunting not to let the negativity get to me
So here I go once again trying to calm down my brain
from intense and intrusive thoughts by covering myself with self love
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t in my plans for self improvement
But I fell for you in spring
I don’t even know when it started to happen
All I remember is absolutely hating it
hated how soft and corny it made me
hated how I started smiling at your messages
hated how you started to melt my jadedness about love
and how I finally felt like love was a possibility for me
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
With my last rock bottom, I learned many things
I learned about the power of my strength and resilience
I learned how to be truly alone
I learned about self-love and how to feel enough
And I learned how maybe love isn’t for me
and all of these things were hard for me to learn
But after my last rock bottom
I came out a different person
A person who understands herself better
A person who stopped apologizing for who she is and is no longer afraid to be herself
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
in the dark corners of the earth the karma gods get together with their hit list
they scheme and plan lessons of devastation,
destruction, and death to teach someone a lesson
about poetic justice
I wrote this in May of 2022.
What’s the cost of being authentically me?
not everyone will like me, lovers will run away from me
I have a hard time finding someone who accepts me
but it’s fine, it’s okay
my worth means more to me than anyone
who wants me to swallow parts of myself
to accommodate to them
because my self-esteem means more than acting
like someone else’s dream
so maybe the cost of being truly me is low
compared to the parts of my true self
I would lose for false friendships and false loves
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
It’s been almost a year since I saw you
Almost a year since I allowed you to treat
me like your on call whore
almost a year since I got a sinking feeling in my gut
when your text appeared on my phone screen
almost a year since I allowed any man have the power
you had over me
almost a year and contrary to popular belief
you were the easiest of my addictions to get rid of
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
Can I blame the morning rain for making me crazy yesterday
it’s like I lost all of my emotional regulation skills
and I had to constantly struggle to reign my anger in
To not key my annoying coworker’s car
To not drive off somewhere and never come back
but HEY I still managed to get through the day
and not rage quit
aqui esta versión en Español:
poesía: loba
I’m a lone brunette wolf in a world full of blonde sheep
my exes always preferred blondes over me
I never knew exactly why
perhaps blondes really do have more fun
perhaps blondes are easier to manipulate
this used to bother me greatly,
even robbed me of my sanity and sleep
but eventually I had a great epiphany
the one meant for me will not just love how sweet I can be
He’ll also love and encourage the savage in me
he’ll know how to ride the turbulent waves of my mood swings
I’m not sure if I’ll meet him soon or if he even exists
but after this grand epiphany
I no longer care about my exes and their blonde sheep
In fact, I wish them all the best fairytale ending
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
the end of the fiscal year brings out the worst in me
it crushes my soul and creativity
and makes me want to run into the woods and go feral
but my kids need food and shelter
so I put all of my distress tolerance skills to use
and my try my best to emotionally regulate my anger
and the fire that burns inside of me
hide behind phrases “okay, I’ll get that done”
“no worries” and “it’s no problem at all”
when I want to tell everyone to fuck your purchase orders
and spreadsheets
but sigh-I like my nice car
and Alexa playing Olivia Rodrigo in the morning
so I hold everything in
because I desperately need this paycheck
it sucks to be held hostage by capitalism
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
almost cried out anger today
but instead went for a drive
a good choice for me and who I wanted to kill
blasted my music and screamed
“I fucking hate white women”
they seem to be a thorn in my side
all the fucking time
focusing on my mistakes
and snitching to my boss
pretending to be friend
never apologizing when they hurt me
constantly trying to bring me down
trying to make me feel less than
and while I hate how much they affect me
at least today I’m grateful that today my hatred for them inspired me
to write this poem
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
my boss tells me, “you’re so loved”
she’s not wrong
I have countless family, friends, and coworkers
singing my praises, encouraging and supporting me
and yet, I feel so alone-so lost-
constantly questioning my actions
am I doing this out of revenge or ego?
am I showing myself enough grace and compassion?
maybe I just need to sleep away
this existential frustration
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
not every day can be filled with peace, calm, joy or excitement
Some days are absolutely shitty and depressing
Some days it’s hard to get up in the morning
without screaming fuck repeatedly on your way to work
Some days are overwhelming to push through
as hormones and emotions fuck you up
Some days are for questioning your life choices over
and over again allowing doubt and insecurity
to cloud you its accomplice self invalidation
Some days are for getting up only to look forward to the end of it
when you can sleep with the hope for a better day
I wrote this sometime in 2006 when I was contemplative about life.
dreams and goals are important
without them life doesn’t have purpose
without them we get stuck in a routine of misery
Without them we end up projecting our insecurities on others
and making ourselves the victims of our lives
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
just when I’m about to close my eyes
the overthinking starts and robs me of my sleep
I obsess and obsess over something thoughtless I’ve said
I try my best to remember the four agreements
I try my best to take control of my emotions
But here I am still losing sleep over something
that won’t even matter in a day or two
