By nature high-strung But I thought I was strong If not physically, emotionally For things to roll off my back Be mature and take the high road

Don’t talk down to me I am not a child! Even children Deserve respect

My objective is selfish Not to share or be heard To get it out and move on No one seems to hear my pain No one seems to feel my pain

Restless As I lay in bed Trying to fall asleep These are my clues I might be low

My poems are short Written at night In my head I wake at dawn Shake my memory

Antisocial tendencies Amplified by sickness I can people watch Yet I can’t people talk I am lonely

Would I rather be A younger me? More productive Stronger Would i have to give up

Mis manchas de Bambi Manchas blancas Cubren mi cuerpo La gente se queda mirando Pero no les da asco

I wallow in my sadness As it pools up It has not swallowed me Who floats above its surface This surface