Poetry
Imposter Syndrome
Away from home with imposter syndrome
Fading far from the plight of perfectionism
Taunted by the unexplored, not on any exec boards
Sometimes struggling to just get out of bed
My roommate wakes up and runs ten miles
While I have clothes heaped in piles
And a hundred unorganized files on my desktop
Too anxious to answer an email
In constant comparison and competition
I’m not motivated by grades or majors
Student governance or unpaid labor
But paranoid I need to fit in
I, Budding Bloom
I plead and prod
For the answers to your hurt.
I wait, which is to say I wilt.
for evergreen
my grandfather knows trees
like I know the bark of his calloused hands
their leaves, their roots, their flowers
Death may not oblige me.
We all know what happens to the body when it reaches the end of life.
Love Yourself in Every Language
Start with a mantra. And a mirror.
The same words, daily.
To My First Love:
The love I had for you
I did not know where to let it rest
in the face of despair, don’t forget your fairy godmother is still there
when you look up at the night sky
what do you see?
displaced yearning
there is a longing within me
for something that is not there
Versions of Myself at a Party
One of me sways to music, stays smiling
Reaches my arms up to fractured ceilings