Posts
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Girlhood (In honor of International Women's Day)
I love being a girl
but I hate what it took
for me to be able to go to school
for me to know I will be able to vote
for me to know that I will be allowed to get a job when I grow older
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It starts with us
I’ve heard too many times
The excuses of our nation
That change would be too hard,
Too frightening
That it would take too long
But why are we arguing
About something so necessary
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A Self Portrait Drawn with Words
They say her eyes are green
But she likes to say they are hazel
Like the sun setting through the evergreen trees
Her hair like a bright morning
When when sun has just risen
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The Unanswerables
Life is made of the unanswerables
Because they are everywhere
Because everything we know has a root cause
And every root cause has another
Until there is no cause,
There just is
"Why do we exist?"
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Tee Shirts and Blue Jeans
When she was little
She wore the same shirt every day
In different colors
The shirts where plain with a small design
Her mom bought her plenty of sweaters
With cute patterns and fun colors
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Dear Beatrice
Dear Beatrice,
Loves
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It's enough to make a girl cry
I need to write so badly because all this anger and fear are sticking to my skin like an anxiety sweat
and yet I can't seem to make any phrases and stanzas that are understandable outside of my head
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four years
i sit and stare out the window
stare out the window at the brown dead grass
the dirty snow melting into muddy slush
the mud that is criss-crossed and destroyed with ruts and tire tracks
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Poems from Third Grade
Usually my poetry
sucks
and it will often be horrible
but that may just be my poems from
3rd grade
where we were learning online
and no one had any secrets in their family.
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Sponsors
Congratulations.
The future is here
The world is at your fingertips.
Literally.
Swipe left for love.
Swipe right for loneliness disguised as company.
Scroll down for breaking news. -
being a teenager is like living in hell
Can you remember
Who you were
Before the world told you
Who you should be?
__________________________
i was too much
for you
someday
I’ll be enough
For someone
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New American Elegy
Long live the dead we prop ourselves up on,
The cane we pass off as our leg.
Long live the gods that money trickles down from,