Author: ahsokaisthechosenone

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What Were You Wearing

“I was seven,
Wearing play clothes,
When he decided,
I was his experiment
I was seven,
Playing in my home,
When he decided to
Claim my innocence”

“I was eight,
Wearing a black shirt,
And pj pants with pink stars
When it all started
I was eight,
In the trusting lap
Of my uncle,
Too young to question,
Too young to debate”

“I was three,
Or possibly five,
When it became,
A monthly encounter,
I think I was three,
Sometimes in a sundress,
Others in pajamas,
When he decided
He had the right to me”

This poem was inspired by an exhibit called What Were You Wearing. The title of the exhibit is a question commonly asked to victims of rape/sexual assault, implying that what happened to them was somehow their own fault. The exhibit proves that clothing is irrelevant when it comes to sexual assault, and that we should stop victim-blaming by asking this question. 

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My Reflection

Who am I?
I,
I’m my thoughts,
My dreams,
My aspirations.
I’m my name,
My looks,
My imagination.
That’s what I see,
When I stare,
Into my reflection.

My reflection,
Ripples in the river of life,
The shallow,
Shallow river of life.
To the world,
I am my reflection:
I am only what the world sees,
Only what the world decides I am.
My body is but a vessel;
Why must the world ignore me,
But acknowledge the vessel?!

Books, merely objects
Are still judged 
By only their covers,
So who am I to demand
They not judge me
By only what they can see.
The inside of a book
Is where the value lies
But most people don’t bother;
It’s easier to judge
From the outside

My body is a part of me,
It embodies my soul
My personality,
But it is not all I am.
I am not my scars,
My disability,
I am me,
A completely separate entity.
I, Me,
Not just what you see

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My Mom (& her BMI)

Keto,
Maybe that’ll help
Paleo,
Couldn’t hurt to try
So many failed attempts
To lower her BMI
How can I tell her, 
That a number 
It doesn’t define her!

The scale, the scale
What does it say?
FAT, it says 
But in numbers, 
It judges.
Why must we care 
What a metal box 
Has to say?!
Why do we care
About the numbers
At the end of the day?!
The world says
Those numbers matter
The world says
Those numbers decide 
They have more say
Than we do,
In our own lives

It shatters my heart
The look on her face
As we snack on chocolates 
While she eats ice chips
Sugar-free,
Fat-free,
And low-carb
That’s her life

My BMI, 
That number
It’s way too high
UGH
How can I tell her
That number is futile
Tell me now,
Does the BMI know
Of the babies 
You’ve born?!
Does the BMI know 
Of the PPD 
You’ve overthrown?!

A number cannot measure beauty
So why,
Why does it bring tears to your eyes?
A number cannot measure beauty
So why,
Why must the matter 
Overwhelm your mind?
I tell you you’re perfect;
But my words
They are fruitless,
It is only numbers
That get through to you,
The same numbers,
That judge you

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Perception VS Reality

If Life is a marathon,
Not a sprint,
How come then,
Everyone is going,
So, so fast
But I,
I’m already behind,
And while everyone else,
Is having a great day,
I toil away 

My legs,
Slabs beneath me,
Holding me up,
But barely,
My lungs,
Burning with every inhale,
About to burst,
But I cannot stop,
I have to keep going,
To get to the top,
I can’t ever,
Ever stop,
I want to pause
Catch my breath,
But that’s not possible,
Because the world won’t stop,
And the non-existing finish line…
Uncrossable

I see them,
In the distance,
So far,
Way ahead of me,
Doing better,
Crushing this war,
Me, however,
A nonstarter,
I struggle to keep up,
Everyone is running,
Sprinting, 
Me, however,
A slow trot, 
Kinda like,
A tortoise a lot,
In a world full of hares,
Speeding by,
We both mosey about

I turn my head,
I see the hares by me,
Wait!
I’m not so far behind?
I’m actually,
Doing kinda fine?
My eyes,
My mind,
They…
They deceive me?
Why?!
How can they not show me reality,
When it’s right in front of me

I turn, Timidly,
I ask, 
The hare next to me,
How its going,
To try and uncover,
The secret of her,
Great stride,
And to my surprise,
“I’M SO FAR BEHIND,”
She bursts,
Impossible.
My mind told me I’M the worst!
Turns out,
I’m not alone,
In my pain, and,
This hare,
Is not a hare,
Just a person,
And I,
I’m not a tortoise

So, I uncover,
Life isn’t a sprint,
Or a marathon,
I figure,
It’s a heckin’ triathlon,
Ongoing and never-ending
And I,
I’m not the only one,
Who struggles,
Because the hares aren’t hares,
And my eyes,
My eyes lie:
I’m doing just fine,
Jogging,
In my own time