Sonnet: High School

*I dislike structured poetry, but a friend needed help writing a sonnet for a school project, and this is what the outcome was*

A spirit in the crowded hallways,
drifting through their unfazed bodies,
having nothing but a thought to say,
I’m the silent ghost of those unseen.

I carry anxiety in my backpack,
quietly feeding my insecurities,
lips sewn shut, inner voices attack,
while I think of the worst possibilities.

Feeling vulnerable without a distraction,
sensing their blind eyes watching me,
considering an evacuation
from their muted whispers that won’t let me be.

This is the place where social anxiety
likes to feed on my entire being.

Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!


Anxiety: Attacking My Weather Patterns

*It took a lot of contemplation before deciding to post this, I almost didn’t, but I feel one of my readers can relate to it, so here it is, more specifically to tell them I understand*

The heat floods my veins,
weighs down my bones,
and soaks my skin in gasoline.
My thoughts light the match,
and my chest drains of air,
while my hands tingle in this cold.
My mind and body at war,
each grasping for oxygen
through the pain in the spiraling climate changes.

Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!

Panic Room

Anxiety locked me in this panic room,
forced the gun in my hand and told me
it’s my turn. We’re actively engaged in
a game of russian roulette with my fears,
each shot spraying my thoughts on the
walls, repainting with my brain.

Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, now available on amazon.


Silence and loneliness work hand-in-hand
to create feelings without sound and
noise without sentiment.

Loneliness is the quiet friend,
mumbling so you cannot understand
his secrets, giving himself the
nickname company.

Silence is loud, screaming in your
ears With a shrill ring, filling up
the space loneliness left behind

Their blood splatters your clothes
as they fight for the heart of empty.

Emptiness is beautiful, spilling blonde
hair and blue eyes in areas you
believed could hold nothing more than
the bunk-beds quiet and alone share.

Your body is the room they’re filling
with their presence and it’s almost
time to pick some new renters.

Pillow Kingdoms and Make-Believe Monsters

When I was little, I loved to build
myself pillow kingdoms. I loved
the security the polyester stuffing
could promise me, secluding me
from make-believe monsters that
wanted me vulnerable. Then, I
got older and hiding behind
threaded walls from make-believe
monsters with words on their
fangs and my blood on their
clothes was no longer considered