It’s me
It’s always strange going to school.
And seeing the other boys.
They have short hair.
They like sports.
They talk in front of crowds like it doesn’t matter.
I’m not like them.
I have long hair.
I like cartoons and drawing.
I’m terrified of talking in front crowds.
It scares me sometimes.
But it doesn’t matter, I still like me.
My friends, my hobby’s it’s who I am.
It’s different but it’s me.
I am me which makes me feel happy.
Forever
I hate going home after school.
I know I’m not the ideal woman.
But that doesn’t stop the fear coursing through my veins as I walk around.
School doesn’t feel safe either.
Retarded and a faggot, really won the jackpot for “different”.
Forever will it hurt not understanding people.
Forever will it hurt not being seen as normal.
Forever I’ll be thankful for those who care.
Those who understand my puzzles.
Those who understand my feelings.
“Happiness is more than wealth” (this poem flips this narrative)
People say that “happiness is more than wealth.”
But when “happiness” goes on starving, what joy can be felt?
Now I’m not all that pessimistic,
I wanna be happy no doubt
But when being so? I wanna be it in my own house
And Happiness is felting,
Being happy really ain’t a choice
But whether happy or sad, I wanna be it in a rolls Royce
So yeah, I’m materialistic
But that just means I’m realistic
Cause money = freedom,
So having money means I’ll be free,
And when I’m free,
I’ll finally be happy.
Why?
Why am I like this?
Why don’t I understand what you mean?
Why can’t you understand me?
Why do you look at me like I’m a rat in a cage?
Why do I have to change the way I act for you?
Why do I love you?
Why do you hate me?
Why can’t I be normal?
Why can’t I be safe?
Why can’t I?
Love
Love isn’t all it seems
It’s all a sick joke that makes me want to choke.
Every time I think of you it makes me want to scream
Even though the memories make a beautiful scene.
My brain is like a hamster wheel, constant. Nonstop
Knock knock you come in and it makes me feel like shit.
Boys
Boys will be boys,
Boys will degrade you but make it your fault,
Boys will say it’s not serious when your madly in love,
I’m just a girl,
So I’ll fall for their tricks,
I’m just a girl,
I won’t be the one they pick.
Sometimes
Sometimes I’m sad
And that’s not bad
I’m just not happy some days
But I’ll be happy again in a few days
So that’s nice.
Fried rice.
To others I’ll always be sensitive
I cry at the small things, I cry at the big things. I’m sensitive.
I cry at the change of tone, I cry when I feel alone.
I’m sensitive.
I cry at a judgmental laugh, I cry when I feel attacked. I’m sensitive.
I cry at the thought of trust, I cry because to others I’ll always be a ‘slut’. I’m sensitive.
I cry because I want to be loved, I cry because I don’t want men to refer to me or any woman as someone to be ‘stuffed’. I’m sensitive.
I’m sensitive and I cry, I swear I try not to.
But if being vulnerable is wrong and crying means I’m not strong, then to others I’ll always be sensitive.
All I want
I’ve had boys call me all the names in the book, making fun of how I act or what I have done in the past, thinking all women do should is look hot and be nice, when all we want to do is get appreciated and loved by others
I’ve had experiences with guys where I get screwed over for loving too much or too fast, I can never learn from my mistakes, I will wait until they want me which they never do, opening my heart until this time I’m keeping it closed cause boys will be boys, and no amount of patience will turn into something that I’m wanting so bad.
Sometimes
Sometimes it’s hard to find the words, to express the thoughts in my head.
The world feels like a weight, pressing on me, stopping me from ever being fed,
Of ever feasting on community, or companionship, or a lack of fear,
Instead I sit here, in bed, wasting my life away out of terror that someone might truly know me, not the mask I’ve carefully put in my stead.
a girl
I’m a girl
I look at your eyes and what they focus on
I retake the picture at least three times before you see it
I can’t stop looking to see your reaction
I wish I didn’t have to think through everything before talking to you
I wish I could tell you what I’m thinking
But it’s not your fault it’s mine because
I’m just a girl.
Christ
Living today is weird
Living today is desperate
Living today relies on temporary joy
Temporary joy that always goes away
How sad it is, how desperate it is when we choose to live for ourselves.
But what hope we can have in a saviour that is not understood but how good is he Christ who loved you so much that he suffered willingly to pay for the wrong everyone had done that all one must do is except it. He is the good shepherd we are helpless sheep but he can lead us home.
I like
I like playing pro clubs with the boys it feels like our time is a toy, after school when I come home I feel like I can be alone.