poem.

Time is not my only enemy

Even though it passes steadily

Cant keep friends, finding means to ends

Schools a challenge I accepted readily

 

Mock the ticking of the clock

Death always seems to stalk

Haunts all of my nightmares and it burdens my walk

 

The urgency to live brings me back to life

But words can cut me deeply like a dull-edged knife

Causes me mental strife

Got to grow thicker skin if I’m ever going to be a wife

 

Predicting when you’ll lack forgiveness can be hard to foresee

Your Viking soul can be colder than the Northern seas

When you swear up and down that you only love me

Trusting you is always easy but doesn’t always come for free

 

I guess the one you love leaves a little scar for the wise

Shows you things you never thought you would realize

You always flirt with the things in life you know I despise

But then again, who am I to even try to criticize

I can be selfish in my own way

Cant help but lead my own self astray

Forgetting others to get my own self through my own day

What can I say, what can I say

 

Judging eyes cant comprise

Muffled cries under careful disguise

Those tears are never from sadness

Only from buried frustrations causing my madness

Untidy clothes and hair mistaken for crassness

Born from royalty but they’d swear that I’m classless

 

How do I explain what kinda feels like hidden suffering

But its not anorexia or a disorder that I’m covering

Its self-inflicted for sure, and hopelessly contradicted

Can’t communicate into words the feeling I’ve depicted

 

It’s really the misunderstood sensitive ones

Who possess the strength of a thousand suns

Who trust human connection

Embrace all imperfection

Value their love’s affection

Love is the true image in the mirror of self-reflection

 

I can see when you test

Challenge my mind and soul, never making me feel oppressed

Never ceasing until I’ve confessed

Secret meanings my complex words have really only suppressed

 

I want to maintain childhood mentality

I’m not ready for life’s brutality

Holding on to it’s innocence

Try to evade my own mortality

 

So I mock the clock

Even though death seems to stalk

Haunts my nightmares and burdens my walk

Fuels my energy, makes me impossible to stop.

By Sofia C. Doria-Quesada