me :) - Hello Poetry

11h

Dorothea Daisy

She/They

She’s the kind of girl who,
likes chocolate better than flowers,
but no one ever asked.

She’s the kind of girl who,
prefers calling over texting,
but nobody ever calls.

She’s the kind of girl who,
has a best friend,
but isn’t a best friend to anyone.

She’s the kind of girl who,
is desperately seeking love,
but only has her mom left.

She’s the kind of girl who,
doesn’t mind losing things,
but despises herself for losing control.

She’s the kind of girl who,
hates being called a “girl”,
but she calls herself that,
because everyone else does.

Maybe somewhere along the way,
She/They stopped being that girl.

They are the kind of person who,
isn’t grateful enough,
for what they receive—
because they forgot how to want.

They are the kind of person who,
speak more than they listen,
because silence,
used to hurt so much.

They are the kind of person who,
has grown numb to others’ voices,
and tries to silence them,
before they can be silenced again.

#she #they #gender

11h

Dorothea Daisy

No sense in a wall.

My grandpa said some harsh stuff,
I wondered if he’d had enough.
I tried not to cry,
Deep down, I hoped he knew why.

He said “Gender’s not even real”,
And anyone who thinks so should just deal.

I said, “They/them” folks want to be seen,
As people, not some in-between.
It didn’t seem silly or wrong to me,
In fact, I felt a kind of key.

A few years on, I learned to speak—
With sharper words, and less critique.

I fell and lost a ski,
The man helping called me a he.
I really loved it,
I didn’t know why but I did.

What should “being a woman” mean?
Does grandpa think I’m making a scene?

I never liked Disney princesses,
I hated wearing dresses.
I did like football,
Gender felt like a big brick wall.

My long hair, was to much to bear,
Cutting it off was a grasp for air.

Now my grandpa thinks I look like a boy,
I can’t help but think of gender as a toy.
A game you can cheat, but never quite win,
A myth I’ve stopped believing in.

Grandpa cling to a truth so small,
While I see no sense in a wall at all.

I am female. But if you approach me as a he or they or anything I won’t mind. I don’t rly like football, and I’ve grown to love dresses. But now wear them because I want to not because anyone expects me to.

#wall #gender #grandpa #family

11h

Dorothea Daisy

the rainbow or the rain?

I wish I could quit thinking about norms,
There’s a rainbow after all storms.
The ones in our minds too I guess,
I just wish I would think about this less.

Because really, everything is unfair,
So who cares about my short hair?
And of course it’ll grow back,
Yet it forever leaves a crack.

A crack in my heart and my head,
I can’t even believe what I’ve said.
They want the hair to be long,
All I feel is just, that this is wrong.

I want the red not the blue key,
I don’t think that’s hard to see.
So it won’t be cut once again,
But will that be the rainbow or the rain?

'Cause I shall look in the mirror,
That won’t make anything clearer.
And I will feel sad looking there,
My hair will be too long to bear.

I will look at photos of me now,
I’ll probably wonder why and how.
Might say that it was a mistake,
They’ll never see if it’s true or fake.

Spoiler alert!! I did get it cut again. And then I cried, because it looks ugly.

#hair #rainbow #rain

11h

Dorothea Daisy

Daisy

In a world full of trees, I'm a daisy.
I don't understand trees—what they see.

Yet I whisper secrets to the trees,
Make sure that nobody sees.

Then I dream of words like falling rain,
They wash me clean, but don't end the pain.

My teacher asked us to draw ourselves as trees. There were kids who drew: trunks, branches, willows and leaves. But I drew a Daisy. Surrounded by trees.

#me #daisy #flower #trees #tree

11h

Dorothea Daisy

-

I am not the only person to words rhyme.
I am surly not the only 'poet' of our time.

I am so grateful to be on this platform and get to read all of your amazing poetry!!! And even more thankful to anyone reading this for letting me share my feelings

11h

Dorothea Daisy

Counting (on) me

Numbers are something I used to adore,
 They never changed—always the same.
 I loved how they opened this door—
 To a world with nothing being tame.

I liked being organised, in perfect rows, 
Everything right, it had to be clear. 
But now I know that it comes and goes,
 And numbers can whisper what I fear.

They ARE everywhere—I used to smile,
 Counting stars or tiles or days.
 But now each digit feels like trial, 
Measuring me in all these ways.

There are too many numbers in my mind, 
Each thought a sum and each move a test.
 Even my body is redefined,
 By math that doesn’t let me rest.

I calculate all the words I say,
 Their weight and worth, what they cost me. 
I never thought I’d feel THIS way... 
But numbers tell me who to be.

Realising that being a control freak is hard when I can’t even control my own life.

#control #numbers #digits

12h

Dorothea Daisy

A Failure, a Ghost, and Me

I haven’t written for so long,
I guess too many things are wrong.

There’s a voice telling me to quit,
and one repeating I’d hate myself if I did.

I’m a failure. I failed. Then I failed again,
It’s driving me crazy. I’m insane.

That exam, the mark I haven’t yet seen,
It doesn’t matter—I’m just fourteen.

IF I am a failure, and let everyone down,
My friends will still live in this town.

Kids on playgrounds will still laugh,
They won’t realise ALL of this is tough.

And I will still turn fifteen then sixteen,
No matter how I am being seen.

Perceived by the little girl in me,
By all the things I can never be.

I’ll still walk past mirrors and see the scars,
Still look at the sky in hope I find stars.

So I can be a failure and not give up,
And therefore I award myself a gold cup.

I can feel my sadness from within,
Because I never ever ever win.

That doesn’t mean I’m a failure tho,
I hope my thoughts don’t show.

I wear noise cancelling headphones,
Just to hear the voice in my bones.

But it isn’t real—This voice is a ghost,
It can’t tell me what I value most.

I used to hate ghosts—I was scared,
Is that why me and my ghost got paired?

Now could I have, my dear—
Become the thing you used to fear?

Accepting change and failure

#failure #ghost #me

— The End —