Here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry:Childhood Lies
buscando paz y seguridad-
mis padres dejaron nuestra patria por otra-
pensando que sería una mejor vida para todos
nunca pensaron que seríamos menospreciados
y maltratados por cuatro años
por nuestra falta de inglés y documentos
I wrote this poem in november of 2022.
the chaos within won’t let me sleep, won’t let me be-
I worry and worry and worry
about my kids, my bills, my productivity
and I fall into the purgatory of what could have beens
and of my many lost dreams
and disappointment and depression covers me
There was so much I wanted to be
I am the opposite of the American Dream
a woman dependent on her husband
a woman stuck in the depths of her insecurities
and anxiety
who longs to escape from this self imposed
stagnant mediocre reality
aqui esta la versión en español:
poesía: mi nueva felicidad
let me sabotage this new relationship by comparing him to my ex-
the one I still write poems about, the one who still visits me in my dreams
the one who wouldn’t leave his wife or other lovers for me-
my new boyfriend treats me with respect and is such a calm guy
my friends tell me this is healthy but I find it boring
I miss being last on someone’s list
I miss being treated as an afterthought
I miss the inner chaos and conflict that came from the uncertainty
of not knowing if my lover was sure of me-
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
five years ago, I was obsessed with a psychopath
he made me believe he wanted only me
he made himself out to be single for 10 fucking years
but one day I found out through his dad’s obituary he was married
and I severed our connection without any remorse or apologies from him
he claimed he didn’t do anything wrong, he was just a private person
that day I received my honorary degree in psychopathy
escribí este poema en 2004 cuando estaba confundida.
Estoy con alguien
que me trata bien
Pero te extraño, te extraño, te extraño
Tú cara, tú voz, tú olor
me persiguen cuando duermo
Y me levanto sintiéndome infiel
Soñando contigo otra vez
¿Cuando parara esta estupidez
que toma espacio en mi mente?
Ni es justo para mí o para el-
que no consigo olvidarte
Dicen que el tiempo cura las heridas
pero mi corazón no acepta la realidad
Que tú eres otro capítulo cerrado en mi vida
y debería concentrarme en mi nueva felicidad
Aqui esta la version en espanol:
poesía: gracias a ti
cupid gets it wrong once again-
bringing out a drawn out rejection for a month-
This time he tells me,
“You’re cool enough to make out with
but not good enough for my mom”
I almost throw my phone across the room
instead I say “it’s cool.it’s okay”
and take a pen to my rage on paper
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
You will always be a secret that I’ll regret
one that makes me full of shame and guilt
one I’ve tried to block again and again unsuccessfully
It’s something I will never talk about
it would cause my inner world much harm
so I’ll keep quiet about it
Swallow it whole
It’s a story of trauma that doesn’t need to be told
este poema lo escribí en el 2004 acerca de John. estaba bien amarga.
Alguna vez pensé
que tú podrías ser el hombre para mi
Pero eso se dio a perder
El día que tú me dijiste
Que no soy y nunca sería
Alguien especial para ti
Y llore y llore y llore
¿Por qué no me quisiste?
¿Por qué no me diste una oportunidad?
Para que puedas probar mi amor incondicional
pero ya no hay marcha atrás
Algún día te arrepentirás
Porque aunque tu desprecio
Me causó una gran desilusión
y no sabía qué hacer con tanto dolor
Tú hiciste lo mejor para mi
Porque gracias a ti
aprendí a sobrevivir
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
saint tracey assured me my life wasn’t over
she showed me love and compassion
when everyone else shunned me
she accepted me for who I was
and encouraged me to follow the path of success
she saw the hidden potential in me
when other teachers saw laziness
she was a prayer from God
sent to me to remind me
my mistakes don’t define me
and that I was still worthy of the love
and goodness in the world
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: So Many Things
la espada de tu repentino y agudo adios
me mato
y ahora me echo en mi cama moribunda del duelo
que llevo adentro-
rezando que Dios tenga piedad y merced
y que mañana no amanezca
porque no puedo tolerar esta vida sin ti
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
my aunt treated us like we were inferior and subhuman
constantly pointing out our flaws with subtle sarcasm
putting pressure on my mom to choose her over us
insulting my father or sister
what about us made her project her insecurities
Was it my dad’s intelligence or my sister’s beauty?
or maybe she really hated my mom for having everything she didn’t have
a loving and doting husband
and all healthy children
What made us a target for my aunt’s abuse?
here is the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Our Spot
tus palabras me queman hasta que soy nada
fui otra aventura más, otro tiempo divertido
para alguien buscando huir de su monotonía
no hay nada más que decir o hacer
fingiré estar feliz qué decidiste regresar con ella
mientras me hundo en un ciclo de autodestrucción y remordimientos
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
in first grade, I learned to be ashamed and embarrassed of who I was,
and where I came from
maybe the nuns were ignorant of the damage they were doing
and since that time I’ve had identity issues
for years, i gave up my language and my heritage in order to fit in-
to have proximity to being an American
but all it did was fuck up my identity
and while I have forgiven the nuns for the damage done
I have a hard time finding compassion for myself
I have a hard time letting go the guilt
For the pain I caused my family
I have a hard time understanding I was just a kid
desperately trying to fit in, to belong, to be accepted
to conform of the standards of being American society fed me
aqui esta la version en espanol:
Poesia: Dulce Realidad
getting to know the new you will be an adventure,
and a risk worth taking even if we crash and burn once again
because there’s no one else before or after who I loved more
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
The scared and anxious little girl and the insecure and clingy woman tug at me-
I try to avoid them and lock them up in a box, but it never happens that way
They refuse to go away when a trigger of trauma visits me
And once again, I am lost in the alter ego I made up to protect myself
the one who shows up in confidence and screams through her poetry
but if I want to reach integration
I need to allow the little girl and the insecure woman space to reside within me
and honor them with powerful words of praise
because they, too, were part of my strength and resilience through the many traumas
It may feel painful at times-but for me to get to become a whole person
and reach emotional maturity – I need to walk hand in hand with the ones
who made me the powerful and confident woman I currently am
Life on the BPD 