I wrote this poem in April of 2023.
Anger trickles in throughout my body
I didn’t get enough sleep
and the monster of PMDD is creeping in
I scream at the universe
for playing a certain song on the radio
And I get annoyed by everything
I hate being so sensitive and triggered
by the stupidest shit
I hate being mentally ill
I hate how the smallest change in my routine
causes me to spiral into nonsensical circle of fury
I wrote this poem in April of 2023.
new leaves spring up in April and I have hope once again
that everything will be okay
as God shows me his love through the beauty
of the changing of the seasons
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
hope appears in the leaves dancing on an almost spring day
and I sit in stillness and silence wondering what it means
Admiring the splendor of nature before me
understanding how beauty is found in the ordinary
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
The hands of ego and pride kept them apart
They chose themselves instead of following their hearts
it was tragic to see how many lies they weaved
I don’t love her, I don’t love him
they held on tightly to their anger, went back to their safety nets
it was more comfortable to do so then to fall back into their chaos
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
Finally comfortable in my skin
I’m no longer afraid to show off my majestic beauty
my curves comes one of the seven wonders of the world
and my face is a mosaic of my colonizer and indigenous ancestry
and now I grace the world with my beauty
posting endless selfies in various poses
some people may find it narcissistic
but if you possessed my goddess beauty
would you try to hide it?
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
Cover me up in rope and tie me up every which way you want
It’s fine, it’s okay honey, I’m used to it by now
Men and society have been tying me up since I could breathe
So a real rope won’t bring me much harm
take control of me like you own me, tonight I don’t want to think
It’s not much different from the way every man in my life has treated me
so do whatever you want with me and make me your ultimate rope bunny
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
I used to want a lover who looked at me like I was magic
now I want a lover who sees the real me and doesn’t leave
someone who doesn’t scare easily when I cry in front of them
and instead holds me and offers me kind words of solace
someone who accepts that I’m both angel and devil
and doesn’t hold it against me
Someone who’s persistent enough to get through my emotional walls
even when I’m closed off because of trauma
this kind of lover won’t be ideal and will have his own set of issues
but it’s the only kind I’ll accept from now
Because lovers who have looked at me like I was magic
quickly disappear when a strong wind of my insanity ruins me
me for them and they say, “fuck me, I didn’t sign up for this”
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
My story is important to share, it’s important to write down
but I don’t want to do it from a place of anger, revenge, or ego
It’s strange to say this because for the past 5 years
Anger has been my major inspiration and motivation
to feed the narrative of how everyone has been a villain
and I’ve been a victim
It gave me a sense of martyrdom that allowed me
to find peace for a while
acting like everyone is a problem
While I just flounder around being wronged
And while I have so much compassion and love for this version of me
It’s not who I want to continue to be
It’s not how I want to be perceived
because I’m more than being angry and vindictive
I’m also kindness, goodness, empathy, and love
And when I share my story-I need to remember these things
Life on the BPD 