deepundergroundpoetry.com
11/26 - Poem, Untitled
I am 13 years old today.
Grand-dad took me to the the mall.
I got a Build-A-Bear Workshop bunny named Lily.
Grand-dad took me down to the food court, and bought me some Wendy's.
My mother missed 13 by two days coming up from Florida.
I haven't seen her in six months.
I am in seventh grade.
My best friend is Alexa M. Baker.
I live with my grandparents in Chicopee, Massachusetts.
I got five $50.00 gift cards to Wal-Mart from my father for my birthday.
My bed is a couch in my grandparents living room.
I cuddle with stuffed animals.
A dalamation named Chance.
A begal named Daisy.
A bunny named Lily.
And a skeleanimial named Bones.
I am living inside of makeshift tent made of pillows and blankets.
I collect Bratz dolls and live inside of the romances that I create for them.
I watch Disney Channel every night to fall asleep, or I listen to Grand-dad watch baseball on the TV.
I am afraid of the dark.
I miss my mom, and I am too angry at my father to live with him anymore.
So for now I will curl up inside of my tent and write poetry to myself.
I may be a teenager as of today, but I am still a child at heart.
I am 14 years old today.
I live in Florida, St. Petersburg to be exact.
Rather then the cold and lonely hometown of Chicopee, Massachusetts.
I am at Steak N' Shake, which is basically the South's version of Friendly's.
I am with my mom, just my mom and I.
I don't have any friends yet, well except one named Megan- May- Lester.
She lives downstairs from me, is seventeen and has a two year old son named Daniel.
She does drugs, crack to me exact and goes drinking almost every night.
She likes listening to Eminem, and isn't afraid to tell me that she just had sex--
With a guy that will break her heart within a month's time.
She was suppose to come out to eat with us today, but she an A.A. Meeting.
And I rather that she attend that instead, because I want her to get better.
I am stronger then I use to be.
No more Bratz Dolls, and I can sleep without the TV on at night.
I right stories in journals and try to ignore life.
My mother is seperated from the horrible man that she married.
So now it is just her and I again.
I like it better that way.
I still live through lives of my stories.
Because their lives are usually easier to control then my own.
My Grandma died the July of this year, on the 20th, of 2007.
And I hate God for taking her away from me.
But maybe that horrible man that is Not My Father being gone--
Maybe, just maybe that is God's way of saying sorry.
Sorry for taking my Grandma away.
Maybe the pastors at New Journey Fellowship are right--
Maybe God is watching out for me.
I am 15 years old today.
And Grand-dad is picking me up from Chicopee Comprehensive High School.
It's my freshman year and I've moved back up North.
And I don't plan on moving again.
Today is my birthday, two days before Thanksgiving break.
Grand-dad is picking me up and bringing me up to Wal-Mart.
So I may choose my birthday present.
I'm planning on getting Taylor Swift's CD.
And maybe a book if there's any good ones.
(From hindsight's prespective I will have gotten Twilight by Stephanie Meyer.But I won't start reading it until a few months later.)
But when I walk out of the school parking lot, to across the street.
Where my family members usually pick me up.
My grandfather's black Crown Victoria is not in it's usual spot.
I call him. . .
He says he sorry.
That he forgot.
That tomorrow him and I, we'll go out.
“I promise Dar-- Annie--”
He gets my mother and I confused sometimes.
I fight back tears and say “Okay.”
“I’m just not feeling so hot today.”
I say “It’s fine.”
And then we hang up, and before I can start to cry.
I remember as I call my dad to come and get me.
Today is not just my birthday, today has never been just my birthday.
But before today it was something happy.
Not something that was remembered is sorrow, in vain and tears.
Today is not my birthday but my grandparents’ 48th anniversary.
11/26 is not a good day, it is a curse that hangs over my head.
Daddy brings me home to a ignorant mother--
An abusive step-father--
A annoying and noisy brat of step-sister--
And a lonely bed, and a tear stained journal.
Both full of broken hopes, crushed dreams.
And lots of lost birthday wishes.
That drift away on their floating candles.
In a sea of misery and pain.
I am 16 years old today.
My step-father is finally gone, for good.
Dad, Mom, and Grand-dad bought me a laptop.
Now I actually feel like a real, professional writer.
I am going to the movies with Alexis N. Conway.
And I hoping we can be friends, because we have so much in common.
We’re so much alike.
I was suppose to have a sweet sixteen.
But it was going to be at a bar my father works at, and I hate bars.
And drinking and alcohol of any sort.
So I denied having a sweet sixteen.
Which is funny cause it use to be one of my favorite songs by Hilary Duff.
I at first invited alot of people to go to the movies.
But Rose Segarro has to watch her siblings.
Alexa isn’t speaking to me.
I chickened out of asking Nate Lasante
As well as Justine Ross.
So instead it’s just Alexis and I, going to see Twilight Saga: New Moon.
Laughing and joking about how we don’t want to ever be a “Bella”.
(Hindsight speaks to me again, and it tells me that if I didn’t want to be a “Bella. I shouldn’t have fallen for a controlling person, I shouldn’t have fallen “irrevocably and unconditionally” with a vampire that sucked the life out of me. I shouldn’t have fallen for an “Edward”, if I didn’t want to be a “Bella.”)
But that is not has happened yet, that is what is to come.
Right now I am friends with a girl named Alexis.
And we are making fun of sparkling fairy-vampires.
Who needs a sweet sixteen, or a party at all.
I got a best friend for my birthday this year.
I am 17 years old today.
I got to go to Olive Garden with my mother, and Alexis.
I got bracelets that I’ll never wear from the girl that I am in love with.
The Romeo to my Juliet.
The Edward to my Bella.
And I got the flu, half way through the meal I start to feel sick.
And the Olive Garden waiters and waitresses sing “Happy Birthday” to me.
And the cake they give us is a “Free-Complimentary-On-The-House” birthday cake.
That is hard is a rock and kind of gross.
I end up throwing up.
Happy birthday to me.
I’m going to be out of school for a week.
Headaches and medicine will make it impossible for me to write.
But look on the brightside (yes there is one, believe it or not).
At least I survived another year.
I am 18 years old today.
I went to see Hugo with Alexis Conway, Elexis Alejandro and Andrew Pauly.
I am legal-- Yay?
I am in love with two people.
I want to break up with Alexis.
(But Hindsight predicts that by tomorrow, the day after my birthday, She will have beaten my to it.)
But for now I secretly hate myself for having feelings for someone that isn’t mine.
For not staying by my girlfriend’s side, my best friend since age 16.
I don’t want to be one of those girls that walks by someone like they are complete strangers.
Not after all those tender moments, shared kisses, hugs, and “I Love You’s”.
But we’re falling apart, so it’s either end it or be ended.
I have written several suicide notes.
Saying that I don’t know how to break my heart in the process of breaking her’s.
I don’t know how to break up with her, and go to someone else.
I know how to be Alexis’ Knight In Shining Armor.
Not the damsel in distress.
Since when do I need saving?
But I will smile and I will pretend.
Eat the cake my girlfriend made me and pretend that we still love each other.
I will sleep against her that night, her body with be as cold as ice.
And the wall that I broke down so many times will grow between us again.
And it will be two hard and high to climb.
And I won’t even bother with it this time.
But I’m 18, I’m legal.
For some reason you’d think that would’ve made this day memorable.
I am 19 years old today.
I am 7 months pregnant.
I am going to be the mother of a of a baby boy named Gaige Mathieu Pauly.
I am in love with Andrew Pauly.
I got a small cake, an Alice In Wonderland bracelet and three gift cards to various places.
My best friend will not speak to me.
And the baby inside me is the only thing that has stopped me from killing myself at this point.
And on top of all of that I am sick, of course I am sick again.
I lost my father the August of this year, 2012.
And Grand-dad is not here anymore either, he died the May before I turned 17.
I have written two novels as my self, three as someone else, five all together.
(By time I have written this poem, I will have written two more- Sincerely Hindsight, again.)
We have an apartment.
We are finally getting out of the motel.
My son will have a home.
And my mother and I will again as well.
Things are getting better for us, for me.
I know it, I feel it and hopefully soon I will see it.
Today I say good-bye. . .
Good-bye to my grandparents deaths.
Good-bye to my father’s ashes at the bottom of a river.
I will hold my son, ten months old already.
I will get along with my mother.
And be loved, and love my boyfriend.
And most importantly, I will remember.
I will remember every wish on a candle.
Every smile,
Every hope,
Every dream.
I will listen to music that I liked when I was 13.
I will accept that I am growing up.
I will re-live first kiss--
First love--
First friend--
First date--
First time--
First chapter I ever wrote--
First book I ever finished--
I will smile, and I will remember.
I will blow out the final wish on the Teenage-Childhood candle.
For today I am not a teen.
A child.
Or a “Tween”.
I am an adult (with a child’s mentality).
I am a writer and a poet.
I am the author of the moment.
I am a girlfriend.
I am a mother.
I am a daughter.
I am a friend.
And I kiss my teenage self good-bye.
Watching her struggle and survive through all of those hard times.
So that she may come up out of the ravine, of the dreaded valley of razors and knives.
Just to fall or be pushed back down there again.
She will struggle and fall, and forced herself back onto her feet.
And so she will make it through those years and she will emerge as me.
And I will look back on those lost tears.
Candles floating by sea.
Those wishes on the wind.
And I will throw my arms up to the sky.
For today I am 20.
And I have survived.
Grand-dad took me to the the mall.
I got a Build-A-Bear Workshop bunny named Lily.
Grand-dad took me down to the food court, and bought me some Wendy's.
My mother missed 13 by two days coming up from Florida.
I haven't seen her in six months.
I am in seventh grade.
My best friend is Alexa M. Baker.
I live with my grandparents in Chicopee, Massachusetts.
I got five $50.00 gift cards to Wal-Mart from my father for my birthday.
My bed is a couch in my grandparents living room.
I cuddle with stuffed animals.
A dalamation named Chance.
A begal named Daisy.
A bunny named Lily.
And a skeleanimial named Bones.
I am living inside of makeshift tent made of pillows and blankets.
I collect Bratz dolls and live inside of the romances that I create for them.
I watch Disney Channel every night to fall asleep, or I listen to Grand-dad watch baseball on the TV.
I am afraid of the dark.
I miss my mom, and I am too angry at my father to live with him anymore.
So for now I will curl up inside of my tent and write poetry to myself.
I may be a teenager as of today, but I am still a child at heart.
I am 14 years old today.
I live in Florida, St. Petersburg to be exact.
Rather then the cold and lonely hometown of Chicopee, Massachusetts.
I am at Steak N' Shake, which is basically the South's version of Friendly's.
I am with my mom, just my mom and I.
I don't have any friends yet, well except one named Megan- May- Lester.
She lives downstairs from me, is seventeen and has a two year old son named Daniel.
She does drugs, crack to me exact and goes drinking almost every night.
She likes listening to Eminem, and isn't afraid to tell me that she just had sex--
With a guy that will break her heart within a month's time.
She was suppose to come out to eat with us today, but she an A.A. Meeting.
And I rather that she attend that instead, because I want her to get better.
I am stronger then I use to be.
No more Bratz Dolls, and I can sleep without the TV on at night.
I right stories in journals and try to ignore life.
My mother is seperated from the horrible man that she married.
So now it is just her and I again.
I like it better that way.
I still live through lives of my stories.
Because their lives are usually easier to control then my own.
My Grandma died the July of this year, on the 20th, of 2007.
And I hate God for taking her away from me.
But maybe that horrible man that is Not My Father being gone--
Maybe, just maybe that is God's way of saying sorry.
Sorry for taking my Grandma away.
Maybe the pastors at New Journey Fellowship are right--
Maybe God is watching out for me.
I am 15 years old today.
And Grand-dad is picking me up from Chicopee Comprehensive High School.
It's my freshman year and I've moved back up North.
And I don't plan on moving again.
Today is my birthday, two days before Thanksgiving break.
Grand-dad is picking me up and bringing me up to Wal-Mart.
So I may choose my birthday present.
I'm planning on getting Taylor Swift's CD.
And maybe a book if there's any good ones.
(From hindsight's prespective I will have gotten Twilight by Stephanie Meyer.But I won't start reading it until a few months later.)
But when I walk out of the school parking lot, to across the street.
Where my family members usually pick me up.
My grandfather's black Crown Victoria is not in it's usual spot.
I call him. . .
He says he sorry.
That he forgot.
That tomorrow him and I, we'll go out.
“I promise Dar-- Annie--”
He gets my mother and I confused sometimes.
I fight back tears and say “Okay.”
“I’m just not feeling so hot today.”
I say “It’s fine.”
And then we hang up, and before I can start to cry.
I remember as I call my dad to come and get me.
Today is not just my birthday, today has never been just my birthday.
But before today it was something happy.
Not something that was remembered is sorrow, in vain and tears.
Today is not my birthday but my grandparents’ 48th anniversary.
11/26 is not a good day, it is a curse that hangs over my head.
Daddy brings me home to a ignorant mother--
An abusive step-father--
A annoying and noisy brat of step-sister--
And a lonely bed, and a tear stained journal.
Both full of broken hopes, crushed dreams.
And lots of lost birthday wishes.
That drift away on their floating candles.
In a sea of misery and pain.
I am 16 years old today.
My step-father is finally gone, for good.
Dad, Mom, and Grand-dad bought me a laptop.
Now I actually feel like a real, professional writer.
I am going to the movies with Alexis N. Conway.
And I hoping we can be friends, because we have so much in common.
We’re so much alike.
I was suppose to have a sweet sixteen.
But it was going to be at a bar my father works at, and I hate bars.
And drinking and alcohol of any sort.
So I denied having a sweet sixteen.
Which is funny cause it use to be one of my favorite songs by Hilary Duff.
I at first invited alot of people to go to the movies.
But Rose Segarro has to watch her siblings.
Alexa isn’t speaking to me.
I chickened out of asking Nate Lasante
As well as Justine Ross.
So instead it’s just Alexis and I, going to see Twilight Saga: New Moon.
Laughing and joking about how we don’t want to ever be a “Bella”.
(Hindsight speaks to me again, and it tells me that if I didn’t want to be a “Bella. I shouldn’t have fallen for a controlling person, I shouldn’t have fallen “irrevocably and unconditionally” with a vampire that sucked the life out of me. I shouldn’t have fallen for an “Edward”, if I didn’t want to be a “Bella.”)
But that is not has happened yet, that is what is to come.
Right now I am friends with a girl named Alexis.
And we are making fun of sparkling fairy-vampires.
Who needs a sweet sixteen, or a party at all.
I got a best friend for my birthday this year.
I am 17 years old today.
I got to go to Olive Garden with my mother, and Alexis.
I got bracelets that I’ll never wear from the girl that I am in love with.
The Romeo to my Juliet.
The Edward to my Bella.
And I got the flu, half way through the meal I start to feel sick.
And the Olive Garden waiters and waitresses sing “Happy Birthday” to me.
And the cake they give us is a “Free-Complimentary-On-The-House” birthday cake.
That is hard is a rock and kind of gross.
I end up throwing up.
Happy birthday to me.
I’m going to be out of school for a week.
Headaches and medicine will make it impossible for me to write.
But look on the brightside (yes there is one, believe it or not).
At least I survived another year.
I am 18 years old today.
I went to see Hugo with Alexis Conway, Elexis Alejandro and Andrew Pauly.
I am legal-- Yay?
I am in love with two people.
I want to break up with Alexis.
(But Hindsight predicts that by tomorrow, the day after my birthday, She will have beaten my to it.)
But for now I secretly hate myself for having feelings for someone that isn’t mine.
For not staying by my girlfriend’s side, my best friend since age 16.
I don’t want to be one of those girls that walks by someone like they are complete strangers.
Not after all those tender moments, shared kisses, hugs, and “I Love You’s”.
But we’re falling apart, so it’s either end it or be ended.
I have written several suicide notes.
Saying that I don’t know how to break my heart in the process of breaking her’s.
I don’t know how to break up with her, and go to someone else.
I know how to be Alexis’ Knight In Shining Armor.
Not the damsel in distress.
Since when do I need saving?
But I will smile and I will pretend.
Eat the cake my girlfriend made me and pretend that we still love each other.
I will sleep against her that night, her body with be as cold as ice.
And the wall that I broke down so many times will grow between us again.
And it will be two hard and high to climb.
And I won’t even bother with it this time.
But I’m 18, I’m legal.
For some reason you’d think that would’ve made this day memorable.
I am 19 years old today.
I am 7 months pregnant.
I am going to be the mother of a of a baby boy named Gaige Mathieu Pauly.
I am in love with Andrew Pauly.
I got a small cake, an Alice In Wonderland bracelet and three gift cards to various places.
My best friend will not speak to me.
And the baby inside me is the only thing that has stopped me from killing myself at this point.
And on top of all of that I am sick, of course I am sick again.
I lost my father the August of this year, 2012.
And Grand-dad is not here anymore either, he died the May before I turned 17.
I have written two novels as my self, three as someone else, five all together.
(By time I have written this poem, I will have written two more- Sincerely Hindsight, again.)
We have an apartment.
We are finally getting out of the motel.
My son will have a home.
And my mother and I will again as well.
Things are getting better for us, for me.
I know it, I feel it and hopefully soon I will see it.
Today I say good-bye. . .
Good-bye to my grandparents deaths.
Good-bye to my father’s ashes at the bottom of a river.
I will hold my son, ten months old already.
I will get along with my mother.
And be loved, and love my boyfriend.
And most importantly, I will remember.
I will remember every wish on a candle.
Every smile,
Every hope,
Every dream.
I will listen to music that I liked when I was 13.
I will accept that I am growing up.
I will re-live first kiss--
First love--
First friend--
First date--
First time--
First chapter I ever wrote--
First book I ever finished--
I will smile, and I will remember.
I will blow out the final wish on the Teenage-Childhood candle.
For today I am not a teen.
A child.
Or a “Tween”.
I am an adult (with a child’s mentality).
I am a writer and a poet.
I am the author of the moment.
I am a girlfriend.
I am a mother.
I am a daughter.
I am a friend.
And I kiss my teenage self good-bye.
Watching her struggle and survive through all of those hard times.
So that she may come up out of the ravine, of the dreaded valley of razors and knives.
Just to fall or be pushed back down there again.
She will struggle and fall, and forced herself back onto her feet.
And so she will make it through those years and she will emerge as me.
And I will look back on those lost tears.
Candles floating by sea.
Those wishes on the wind.
And I will throw my arms up to the sky.
For today I am 20.
And I have survived.
Published 26th Nov 2013
| Edited 8th Jan 2014
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