poetry: international women’s day

I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

two badass women against the patriarchy

women are recognized all over the world today
but none of us are equal
we still have to fight the same bullshit every day
if we’re human and show emotion, we’re labeled crazy or dramatic
if we want to show off our bodies, we’re labeled slutty or conceited
if we don’t give in to our partners because they’re “in the mood”
we are called prudes, frigid bitches or worse,
we feel obligated to give in to avoid being raped
it we’re educated and try to succeed in our careers
men are intimidated by us and try hard to dim our light
and if we are loud and take up space
we are labeled as too much and abandoned
it’s like as much as the media try to paint a picture of equality
it’s all a fucking lie
because in my 42 years on this earth
I haven’t lived anywhere where my existence is valued
as much as man’s

poetry: my anger walks in

I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

watch out when I have this look on my face…lol

my anger walks in and I feel an earthquake within
and I become the saltiest bitch
Writing poetry about anyone who’s wronged me
but then again it is entertaining
Seeing how mean and petty I can be
It’s not like I’m vindictive or seeking out revenge
most of these new angry poems won’t be shared with the world
it will be kept inside the pages of my notebooks and journals
I just need to let it out and scream
Fuck you, fuck him, fuck her, fuck the world, fuck everything
Before I take it out on anybody
before I post something stupid and cringy I’ll regret later
before I allow the world to know how I’m burning

poetry: best birthday gift

I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

best birthday gift ever

He came into my life on a cold february night-
He decided to make a dramatic entrance
on my 24th birthday
He didn’t mean to steal my thunder as he tried
to make his entrance-a month beforehand
But fortunately the doctors stopped
his almost too sudden arrival
But that cold February night-
was the right time for him
I wanted to go the natural route
but he had other plans with the horrible pain he caused
EPIDURAL PLEASE-LIKE RIGHT NOW
OR I DON’T KNOW HOW I’M GETTING
THIS CHILD OUT
Within minutes he was out and once again
I was in love but this time with the life I created

poetry: mother of three

I wrote this in February of 2019

I’m still asking myself this question

Mother of three
What does that even mean?
Responsibilities, obligations, duties
Alcohol and going out are taboo for me

Songs of sacrifices and martyrdom
Are the tunes I hum
Dinner with friends and late
Night concerts are just WRONG!

Soccer games and play dates
Are my important dates
No time to spend
With my lifetime mates?

Mother of three,
Will I ever be free?

poetry: I trust myself

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

it’s time to trust my intuition

I fall in love and obsessed over these concepts over who I should be,
over who I should love, over who I should mirror
I read and read books on BPD, mental health, and trauma constantly
I take advice from influencers, poets, and psychologists on social media
Seriously thinking this is how I heal, this is how I become healthy
but that’s a lie-
while everything I do helps me
I need to listen to my intuition more
I need to trust myself more
and acknowledge I’m doing enough
and come to an understanding I am on my heroine’s journey
that’s unique only to me
honor my truth within me, accept it, and that’s how I begin to really heal

poetry: am I even your type?

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

I’m ridiculous when I have a crush….

am I reading too much into the attention and energy you’re giving me
the casual messages, the comments on my posts
the nervous vibe and the hug you gave me the first time we met
It felt like chemistry
Am I even your type?
Or is this the beginning of beautiful friendship
One that will last, one that will be healthy
Without the complications and expectations
that lust or love brings

poetry: emotional eater

I wrote this poem in February of 2020.

me in February of 2020.

Eating away my emotions with junk food and sugar
is healthier than meth and taking pills to sleep forever
Each bite I take and swallow keeps me alive
and further from a sweet death that tempts me
Food becomes the driving force behind my mediocre existence
until I can find a new obsession

poetry: comfortable

I wrote this poem in February of 2020.

me in February of 2020

Comfortable will keep you locked
in loveless marriage
Comfortable will keep you trapped
in an easy and boring job
Comfortable will keep you miserable
in a mediocre life
Comfortable will keep you settling
for less than you deserve
Comfortable will find you one day
And make you swallow a bottle of pills
so you can sleep away
your comfortable and mediocre existence