Times I'd Like To Start Over

There are times where I would love to start over.

Times I want to forget my name and times I wish

I could just say forget all this and disappear.

There are times I wish I didn’t have so many

Classes with my friends and all I want to do is

Just be quiet and let my mind be and not feel

Bad for not talking as much or coming off as

Too serious. I wish I could get a hang of this

Socializing thing. Opening up seems to be

One of the things that destroyed me before.

Let me go to the wreck of the old me and

Pick a few remains. I’ll tell you what each

Piece symbolizes and where it came from.

I look into the eyes of the young girl that

Thought she was broken. Her face creases

As she tries to hold her tears back and rubs

Her eyes. How did I get to this point exactly?

Why am I even writing about it? I’ve repeated

All of this so many times to myself that

I’m tired of hearing any of it. But I was done

For another time in my life. I was done and

Just ready to drop out of existence. I was done

And all I wanted was a recharge. I just wanted

Someone to recognize that I was at my edge,

But I didn’t want them to say the common

Things. Not “just pray”, “stay positive”,

“Just do it and things will get better” or

“Just stay strong” because don’t you think

I’ve tried that already. I’ve heard this shit

A hundred times and half of those were

From my own mind. I don’t need a saviour,

I don’t need a miracle, I don’t need the world

To recognize that Marie Santirece is having

A hard time right now…

I just want someone to sit with me and not make me

Feel terrible about this like everyone else.

Just because I’m seventeen and it’s not

What they’d call the weight of the world.

I just want someone to at least just listen

Because, hell, no one takes the time to listen

To me. Everyone always assumes I’m fine

Since I say that when they ask. That’s the

One thing you can’t always trust with me.

When I say I’m fine, I could be SO anxious

Under that smile and behind these eyes

I could be overthinking everything.

That’s why, sometimes, I wish I were

Easier to read. Though I put on a poker

Face so I can get through everything,

It would benefit more if people could read

Me better. It would be even more

Beneficial if I could say what’s wrong.

I need to start saying something.

If I spoke every single thing I thought,

I’d be in a mess. *laughs*. It’s true.

I’d rant and rave all over the place,

Curse like a drunken sailor, tell

A few of my friends what they can

Do with those shitty jokes about how

Serious I can come across as, how you

Can’t joke that much with me, or how quiet

I am. (Anyone but Kennytra because at

Least her jokes about me are funny like

95% of the time). They need some tips

From her. *laughs*. I swear. They need

To step their game up. I don’t care if they

Joke about me. They just need to be FUNNY.

I’ll be laughing too much to be mad at you, fam,

For real. I make jokes about myself all the

F**king time and so does my sister. Her

Nickname for me is munchkin because

I’m so short. Oh, and she’s a towering

Three inches taller than me, that makes

A whole lot of difference. Yeah, she’s

So much taller than me. *laughs*. It

Adds to the joke though. I call her

A mess because she’s random, weird,

And crazy. Even though I am, too.

That’s just our humor. We have that

Type of humor where we can find

Something funny in death or something

Funny in something that should not

Be funny. That’s who we are and we

Are who we are. We love sad songs,

Caffeine, and reaction videos. We

Aren’t perfect, but we give no fucks,

B. We just chilling in this lifetime.

No one can fuck up our vibe.

We get stressed and anxious,

But we laugh and stay positive.

We playfully argue and call

Each other names. We give

No fucks. We just love life and

Be ourselves. But try to harm her

And I’ll kill you. Strong words,

But I’ll back them up. Try me, B.

I’ve got nothing to lose. Trust me.

*laughs*. My sister doesn’t even

Question that. She knows how I

Can get. Anyway, I remember

Nights, lying awake, tired parts

Of me wanting liquor bottles

And time to let this

Shit go. Just let go of the

Anxiety and stress. Every time

I turn around, something comes

Up and fucks up the vibe. I feel

The weight of the lyrics of all

Those sad songs and I start

Listening to instrumentals.

My heart is heavy and I end up

Dragging it as I continue on.

I just ask God for the strength

And patience to go on. But

Everybody just kicks me while

I’m down and says I’m fine.

Not every time. Not. Every.

Fucking. Time. You just need to look

Into my eyes and you’ll see.

You’ll see that I’m not always

Fine. I’m human. Not a robot.

My poker face is strong, but

My eyes, like my mom, are an

Open book. That’s why I look

Down at times. I get tired of how

People take their frustrations out

On me and not even my friends

Can see how it’s all taking a toll

On me. I’ve worked all my life

On my poker face, but I just

Want someone who can see past

It, even just a little. Poke at the

Stitching. It’s okay if it tears.

I know how to fix it. Even if

All you ever do is listen,

I’ll be happy because everyone

Passes me by and never usually

Do and they just want me to listen.

Zip the lip and open my ears.

I’ve been taught all my life to

Just listen and I’ll learn

Something eventually. Took

Me forever to get over it

And it’ll take me longer

To learn to be open.

I learned once, but was forced

Back into my space. It’s not

Easy in a family like mine.

I was once a gypsy soul,

Dancing under the light of

The moon, a batty passionate

Heart spending countless

Heartbeats on almost everything

And would cash out at a shot

At happiness for this short life.

But nowadays I’m a tired soul,

Wondering how did I get here,

How did I end up here. What

Has brought me here?

Where has this year gone?

I’ve grown tired of it all.

I grew tired of my name.

I grew tired of my heart.

I grew tired of trying.

The second time I wanted

To give up. The second time

I wanted to throw the cards

I was dealt and say,

“I’m tired of this shit!”

I closed my eyes to stop

My head from spinning.

With my dad screaming

At me, my teachers and

Administrators telling me

I need to hurry up and

Plan my future, Catch up

On your classwork,

And take your time.
Giving my anxiety the

Fuel it needs to thrive.

The only difference

Between now and then is

It was worse back then.

My heart had no steady pace

And I felt more attacked by

My own mind than anyone,

Even my dad. I just have to

Empty this bottle often.

The bottle I used for my

Emotions. I need to think

Of me and how I’m doing.

Bottles for this bottle, that

Is unhealthy. If I drank

At the time, I’d drink more

Than I ate. I just felt that way.

Everyone runs from their problems

In some form. They smoke, they

Drink, they scream, they yell.

They vent/rant. I’m just learning

To speak my mind more often.

There are times where I would love to start over.

Times I want to forget my name and times I wish

I could just say forget all this and disappear.

There are times I wish I didn’t have so many

Classes with my friends and all I want to do is

Just be quiet and let my mind be and not feel

Bad for not talking as much or coming off as

Too serious. I wish I could get a hang of this

Socializing thing. Opening up seems to be

One of the things that destroyed me before.

Let me go to the wreck of the old me and

Pick a few remains. I’ll tell you what each

Piece symbolizes and where it came from.

I look into the eyes of the young girl that

Thought she was broken. Her face creases

As she tries to hold her tears back and rubs

Her eyes. How did I get to this point exactly?

Why am I even writing about it? I’ve repeated

All of this so many times to myself that

I’m tired of hearing any of it. But I was done

For another time in my life. I was done and

Just ready to drop out of existence. I was done

And all I wanted was a recharge. I just wanted

Someone to recognize that I was at my edge,

But I didn’t want them to say the common

Things. Not “just pray”, “stay positive”,

“Just do it and things will get better” or

“Just stay strong” because don’t you think

I’ve tried that already. I’ve heard this shit

A hundred times and half of those were

From my own mind. I don’t need a saviour,

I don’t need a miracle, I don’t need the world

To recognize that Marie Santirece is having

A hard time right now…

I just want someone to sit with me and not make me

Feel terrible about this like everyone else.

Just because I’m seventeen and it’s not

What they’d call the weight of the world.

I just want someone to at least just listen

Because, hell, no one takes the time to listen

To me. Everyone always assumes I’m fine

Since I say that when they ask. That’s the

One thing you can’t always trust with me.

When I say I’m fine, I could be SO anxious

Under that smile and behind these eyes

I could be overthinking everything.

That’s why, sometimes, I wish I were

Easier to read. Though I put on a poker

Face so I can get through everything,

It would benefit more if people could read

Me better. It would be even more

Beneficial if I could say what’s wrong.

I need to start saying something.

If I spoke every single thing I thought,

I’d be in a mess. *laughs*. It’s true.

I’d rant and rave all over the place,

Curse like a drunken sailor, tell

A few of my friends what they can

Do with those shitty jokes about how

Serious I can come across as, how you

Can’t joke that much with me, or how quiet

I am. (Anyone but Kennytra because at

Least her jokes about me are funny like

95% of the time). They need some tips

From her. *laughs*. I swear. They need

To step their game up. I don’t care if they

Joke about me. They just need to be FUNNY.

I’ll be laughing too much to be mad at you, fam,

For real. I make jokes about myself all the

F**king time and so does my sister. Her

Nickname for me is munchkin because

I’m so short. Oh, and she’s a towering

Three inches taller than me, that makes

A whole lot of difference. Yeah, she’s

So much taller than me. *laughs*. It

Adds to the joke though. I call her

A mess because she’s random, weird,

And crazy. Even though I am, too.

That’s just our humor. We have that

Type of humor where we can find

Something funny in death or something

Funny in something that should not

Be funny. That’s who we are and we

Are who we are. We love sad songs,

Caffeine, and reaction videos. We

Aren’t perfect, but we give no fucks,

B. We just chilling in this lifetime.

No one can fuck up our vibe.

We get stressed and anxious,

But we laugh and stay positive.

We playfully argue and call

Each other names. We give

No fucks. We just love life and

Be ourselves. But try to harm her

And I’ll kill you. Strong words,

But I’ll back them up. Try me, B.

I’ve got nothing to lose. Trust me.

*laughs*. My sister doesn’t even

Question that. She knows how I

Can get. Anyway, I remember

Nights, lying awake, tired parts

Of me wanting liquor bottles

And time to let this

Shit go. Just let go of the

Anxiety and stress. Every time

I turn around, something comes

Up and fucks up the vibe. I feel

The weight of the lyrics of all

Those sad songs and I start

Listening to instrumentals.

My heart is heavy and I end up

Dragging it as I continue on.

I just ask God for the strength

And patience to go on. But

Everybody just kicks me while

I’m down and says I’m fine.

Not every time. Not. Every.

Fucking. Time. You just need to look

Into my eyes and you’ll see.

You’ll see that I’m not always

Fine. I’m human. Not a robot.

My poker face is strong, but

My eyes, like my mom, are an

Open book. That’s why I look

Down at times. I get tired of how

People take their frustrations out

On me and not even my friends

Can see how it’s all taking a toll

On me. I’ve worked all my life

On my poker face, but I just

Want someone who can see past

It, even just a little. Poke at the

Stitching. It’s okay if it tears.

I know how to fix it. Even if

All you ever do is listen,

I’ll be happy because everyone

Passes me by and never usually

Do and they just want me to listen.

Zip the lip and open my ears.

I’ve been taught all my life to

Just listen and I’ll learn

Something eventually. Took

Me forever to get over it

And it’ll take me longer

To learn to be open.

I learned once, but was forced

Back into my space. It’s not

Easy in a family like mine.

I was once a gypsy soul,

Dancing under the light of

The moon, a batty passionate

Heart spending countless

Heartbeats on almost everything

And would cash out at a shot

At happiness for this short life.

But nowadays I’m a tired soul,

Wondering how did I get here,

How did I end up here. What

Has brought me here?

Where has this year gone?

I’ve grown tired of it all.

I grew tired of my name.

I grew tired of my heart.

I grew tired of trying.

The second time I wanted

To give up. The second time

I wanted to throw the cards

I was dealt and say,

“I’m tired of this shit!”

I closed my eyes to stop

My head from spinning.

With my dad screaming

At me, my teachers and

Administrators telling me

I need to hurry up and

Plan my future, Catch up

On your classwork,

And take your time.
Giving my anxiety the

Fuel it needs to thrive.

The only difference

Between now and then is

It was worse back then.

My heart had no steady pace

And I felt more attacked by

My own mind than anyone,

Even my dad. I just have to

Empty this bottle often.

The bottle I used for my

Emotions. I need to think

Of me and how I’m doing.

Bottles for this bottle, that

Is unhealthy. If I drank

At the time, I’d drink more

Than I ate. I just felt that way.

Everyone runs from their problems

In some form. They smoke, they

Drink, they scream, they yell.

They vent/rant. I’m just learning

To speak my mind more often.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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