Here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Remorseful Sentiments
de nuevo arruine todo
no fue mi intención-siempre empiezo tan bonito
pero por alguna razón siempre destruyo mi paraiso de amor
Está vez él no podía esperar para libersarse de mi-
será que en realidad soy demaciado
o los hombres que escojo no son suficiente?
Here’s the English Version of this poem:
Poetry: Three Years Too Late
ahora recién reconoces tu error y me pides disculpas
ahora recién decides enfrentar el dolor que generaste
al negar la existencia de nuestro hijo
ahora recién quieres desempeñar tu papel de padre
después de tu desgraciada ausencia de tres años
esperando que te perdone como si nada paso
lo siento, pero vete de aquí–
el no necesita a un infeliz en su vida
que nunca pudo dar la cara por el
que prefiero esconderlo y olvidarlo por tres años
que quiere usarlo para limpiar su conciencia
para sentirse mejor
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
I’m finally free from the chains of love
I felt truly a slave to it
Thinking I needed it, thinking I wanted it
But the truth is
the only person I ever needed was me
I never needed anyone else to care for me,
to love me
it’s always temporary until they leave
Today marks my independence day
from love’s heavy and terrible weight
Because I am worth more than another fickle soul
Who I always become too much for
Because I deserve a sense of emotional stability
After so many emotional scars caused by love
Here is the English Version of this poem:
Mixed Blessing
la culpabilidad que él siente es demasiado
por eso él rechaza su propia sangre
el no puede enfrentar los años preciosos que el perdió
y la bendición que el abandono
I’m used to being the ultimate pushover-
allowing the energy of others to pollute
my energy and take up my time
It was the people pleaser in me who needed to fawn
be easy to get along with and always avoiding conflict,
I’d become the person they’d want me to be,
cutting away pieces of my authenticity-
I’d become easy to digest and swallow
I never valued myself or put myself first
It was learned martyrdom from the women in my family
Internalized misogyny sold to me at a young age
dressed up as selfless acts of love
but I’m done sacrificing myself for others
It’s time to unlearn this toxic way of loving and being
I refuse to pass this down to the next generation
of woman who come after me
I’m here to take up space, roar like a lioness
and pass down a new legacy of self love
that took me 41 years too long to discover
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
The princess and the queen live within me
And they each serve a purpose
the princess cares about the men in her life
She’s soft and submissive, kind and generous
She’ll do anything for love, she’s loyal
But sometimes the princess get taken advantage of
And the queen steps in
The queen is determined, she is strong and opinionated
And ambitchous and bossy
She’ll do anything to protect herself and her kids
and gives zero fucks about anyone else
And lately I’m trying to find a perfect balance
of embracing these two beings who live within me
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/01/03/numb/
nada me fascina, nada me emociona
siento un vacio dentro de mi
que no se puede llenar
mi mami me dice “échale ganas”
pero quiero rendirme a mi depresion
y nunca despertar
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
Some days I can’t deal with the boredom and restless
It all leads to chronic feelings of emptiness
And I asked myself
Is it time for another depression spell?
And I’m annoyed by me, by everything
I attend to whatever I think my brain and my soul needs
Sometimes it’s music, sometimes it’s sunshine
Sometimes it’s writing
Sometimes nothing appeases the Gods of BPD
And I just to deal with my emotional instability
I wish for at least a week of tranquility within
Instead of a pendulum of ever changing mood swings
When will I finally get calm and peace?
Aqui esta la version en espanol:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/01/30/poesia-pequenas-riquezas/
he watches her as she sleeps
and the emotions she stirs up in him
this was supposed to be a casual agreement
where only each other’s primal needs got met
she’s not easy or convenient
she has way too many issues
and yet here he is starting to love her
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 me 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 and exhausting not to let the negativity get to me
So here I go once again, trying to calm down my brain
from negative and intrusive thoughts by covering myself with self-love
I wrote this in May of 2022.
Overturning my right to choose feels like a slap to my face
it is my american dream of liberty turned into a nightmare
of reproductive imprisonment
because of my 3 unplanned pregnancies, because of my 4 IUDs
birth control pills and a patch
because I am a woman scared for my niece, for my future granddaughters
scared for the generations of women who come after me
and I sit here at a complete loss for words and understanding
at a loss for how this could happen
a fundamental right ripped from right before our eyes
while we were distracted with the modernity of society
a fundamental right ripped from us that will take us back to the 1950’s
I’m constantly working without any breaks or any hints of rest
because I thrive on being productive
I’m happiest when I’m filled with purpose
and I don’t stop because it keeps me moving forward
it keeps me from not feeling anything
but at what cost?
my hips and knees scream at me
and I’m addicted to energy drinks
my mind tells me to slow down, rest,
and process my emotions
but I’d rather keep hustling, keep moving
rather than to deal with the intensity of my feelings
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
People say I shouldn’t give up on love
and it’s really just my bad luck
But how do I explain
How love makes me insane
It’s not the men I pick
It’s really me, me, me
I’ll become the version they want me to be
thinking they’ll stay with me-
behave, swallow my words, hide my anger,
implode on myself in the privacy of my journal
but keep my mask of sweet princess on-
but this never last for long
something always happens
it’s just a matter of when
when will I get tired of hiding who I am
and start being erratic and crazy
When will they get tired of my bullshit
and decided to leave
and almost always, this ends up
as an emotional catastrophe for me
so I’ve come up with a solution
I’m going to make my newfound solitude
a haven, a sanctuary to fall into
give myself as much time as I need
to enjoy the gift on my own company
understanding that this isn’t an ending
but rather a brand new beginning for me
to write and edit my own unconventional love story
I wrote this poem in June of 2022 inspired by my youngest son.
At Tae Kwon Do class my son kicks
with a determined look on his face
It’s strength and resilience inherited from me
and his ancestors
It’s a competitive spirit passed down
generation after generation
from people that had to fight to compete
to survive and it fill me with excitement and pride
because even at ten my son shows traits
from his ancestral warriors
I wrote this poem in October of 2022 inspired by my middle son.
Me and my teenage son fight and I regret it the next day
I’ve watched too many people mourn their sons this year
I’ve felt the screams of those close to me
asking God why he took their babies too young
Young men who will never be fathers,
Young men who will never see their children grow up
into rebellious and sassy teens
and while I understand conflicts happens between
parent and child
I also know we’re both on borrowed time
and I don’t want our angry words
to be the last exchange between us
if its his or my last day today
