Categories
poetry

Get Up

Warning: profanity

Get up Alice

Get up and wake up

At a reasonable time

Make up that bed

And ugly face

A face that has no place with such a wide mouth

Stop letting stuff just spurt out

Think about what you say

And think about it again

No wonder you don’t have many friends

Do you think that this speech is a cry for help

It’s a cry for attention

Pay attention, Alice

Pay attention to what I say

Pay attention to the way I want this done

Do it exactly how I want it done

Why do you never have fun?

Lighten up, Alice

Take a joke

You do not hold the world on your shoulders

You do not shoulder substantial burden

Learn and know that more people have it worse than you

Stop acting like everything is just so blue

Do it with a smile

And a happy one at that

Then again, every smile you’ve given looks like you just spat

Stop looking so pained

Stop being so drained

And for God’s sake, stop pretending that you’re so busy

Everything you do should be easy

But you can’t do that if you don’t get up

Get up

Get the fuck up

Wake the fuck up

You don’t have time to be lounging about

You were supposed to send three emails out

And I don’t want to see you pout

I set an alarm for six in the morning

That’s not an alarm, it’s a warning

If you don’t wake up now you’ll never wake up

And get up

And make your breakfast

And make yourself workout

And make up yourself

Because you don’t have time to be sad

You don’t have time to say how you feel

You don’t have time to call your feelings real

Because you need to get up

***

I apologize; this piece is angry and violent and probably one of the best things I’ve written. Heavily inspired by spoken word poet Maia Mayor’s “Perfect”, this poem draws from the element of internalized perfectionism, with a dash of content. I pieced it together in my mind through these last few months, but the entire thing came to fruition quite recently. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be shared. But if it was, and there are people like me who understand this poem to its core, be glad that you’re not alone.

Categories
poetry

Doubt

Doubt is the thing that eats me inside out

Questioning the life I live

What I did

And who I am

This is a question that makes me understand less about myself

And more about society

The variety of people makes it harder to choose

There’s more to lose

When you are expected to pick one out of a million

A billion stars in the galaxy

And only one supports life

But I don’t know if my life is worth the energy it took to create me

I can’t see myself in the mirror because all I know is my present

Which is weighed down by my past

I feel my life moves too fast

And slow at the same time

I can’t tell people what is mine

Because I don’t know what I possess

I like to digress from the natural path

That only makes it harder to exist

Yet I persist and hope that what I have is right

In hindsight

I should’ve played mute

***

I am at a very uncertain time in my life, yet I feel as if this is the path I’ve chosen to walk from the beginning. I have a hard time talking to other people, to communicating with friends and family, and even reflecting upon my own past. I hope that there is a viable excuse for this state of mind, and I believe that it will disappear eventually. The style of this poem is a little different, yet I enjoy writing like this because it feels halfway between a couplet and a spoken word. One of the most important things to know, my friends, is yourself. Everything else is only a consequence.

Categories
poetry

Hands

I don’t know what to do with my hands

I feel like my back is against the wall

I lost my logic, yet doubt grows tall

My fingers fumble for a grip

Every move just makes me slip

I wish I didn’t have to fish around

Waiting to hear a sound

Or a reply from you

All I have is what I write

A regrettable choice, and in hindsight

I wish I hadn’t said yes

Maybe I wouldn’t lie here

Wishing I could disappear

Back to the year

Before the tears

When anxiety filled my head

Laced with fist fueled dread

At least he was sweet and kind

At least he didn’t toy with my mind

Or make me cry

Our goodbye was short

The older I get, the more I know

Yet why doesn’t this help me grow

I’m still stumbling like a bumbling fool

My heart leading like a stubborn mule

I used to clasp his hand in mine

I don’t know what happened with the time

But now there isn’t any left

Now I just heft regret after regret

I bet this wouldn’t be so bland

If I still knew what to do with my hands

***

What started as a midnight thought quickly turned into a poem that went down a road I didn’t expect it to. A long time ago, what feels like ages, I had a relationship with a boy who treated me extremely well. Although the relationship made me uncomfortable (luckily, it was short), I still remember his gentility. We don’t keep in contact, but I see him once or twice and know he’s doing much better. Every relationship teaches a lesson, and that one taught me not to dismiss someone’s kindness. It also taught me to say no to people I have little interest in.