Through out my life, and still do, I had a hard time believing in things.
Believing in things and in people often felt like a gamble, where the odds were always 100 to 1 No matter how high I place my bets I would always end up losing more than I feel like I'm winning, Often at 3 am I would find myself sitting in the front porch, with fresh brewed coffee and the silent sound of cars passing my miles away, When you grow up in a catholic household, you are taught that you should never question God's work Between the age of 0 to 8 you are told that if you do good the entire year on Christmas morning Santa Claus will bring you presents, At age 9 you find your parents at midnight stuffing the presents under the tree and all of the sudden a piece of your innocence goes away,
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If only you were able to read those drafts of the poems I never publish,
the ones I want to scream so lout on the top of my lungs, and when I'm done I am not going to cry, I am not going to be upset, Because I've cried enough while I was writing all of those 200 and something poems, The ones you never bothered to read, The ones I wrote about my past experienced that you never understood, The friends that left and left holes in my soul that nobody will ever be able to fill, empty spaces between each line, never finished, never complete I am expected to be sensational, A girl every man desires, the one nobody wants with her baggage, leave her on the doorstep, Pick her up when you feel low, and leave her back where you left her, My innocence was broken in more than 978 words, Over and over again, I was never what I seemed, and I apologize if you can't handle honesty, If I am just too over the top, to overly correct at times when you can't swallow down your own truth, but I am expected to swallow more than I can chew, You see it is never about fairness, it's not even about expectations anymore, I'm holding my head above water, My mind is polluted with so many thoughts, Everything past tense, everything always a minute too late Nothing is ever talked about, no feelings, no emotions, Each time I hide that part of me from the world, each time you and them, and me, and them, and we, the times you've heard my heart hit the floor, you didn't bother, so don't bother to know the real me now, It's already been gone One word description,
I am semicolon, Always stuck between two things, just as important yet so different, A paradox to some, a chameleon soul to my parents, and this indecisive soul to my honest self, On some days I wake up with an immense desire to leave my home with only a suitcase in hand, Go far away, with no baggage on my shoulders, no walls, nothing but sea breeze and sand, and on other days, I want to lock myself up and not speak to a single soul On some days I wake up with this immense desire to travel and party in Europe and just forget about work, kids, and getting married, I don't want to think about my responsibilities, paying bills, needing coffee to stay awake, and tv drama, and on other days, I just can't wait to grow up, I often dream of getting married, and to be a good wife, and the next day I fear commitment, I fear my own desires, and censor them like the media does to the wrong publicity I'm two different persons, I have my mother's attitude and my father's temper, Once I was asked what I wanted to be when I grow up, what I wanted to do and where I see myself.. this is what I've wrote.. A few years from today; |
AuthorA collection of a few published poems and spoken words by Keyla. Feel free to go through any of them, feed back is always welcome. Archives
April 2018
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