Dear community & followers, I’ll be using this prompt to share (what I think are) my best poems. In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take. (If this gets banned for being off-prompt, it is likely I will be a little offended.)

To start, we have the first five edited poems!

**Only A Woman**

To anyone who thinks

women belong in the kitchen,

I hope you must know,

we’re not the only ones who pitch in.

If I’m “only a woman,”

how come I can beat you up?

In games and reality,

you claim it’s just dumb luck.

I’m not saying we’re better at all;

even if it would be easy to argue.

Instead, I shall share that we

women are alongside you.

You just have to be willing

to let us stand there.

Don’t belittle us because

we can produce heirs.

I’m not “only a woman,”

as I can do just as you.

I can walk with dignity,

and carry just as heavy too.

“Only a woman” is such

a derogatory phrase,

it leaves me to wonder,

are they stuck in a haze?

Dear men, we are your equals,

if not better, but I’ll settle for equality.

Treat us as such; we shall not slander,

this phrase should not be used so commonly.

**Overthinking**

Sitting on a beach.

Simply overthinking.

You really call this peace?

My brain can’t stop speaking.

It’s one after another,

thoughts so constant

they’re making me suffer.

Just let me be honest.

Let me talk to someone,

I hate being alone.

Because thoughts can consume one,

so far, that’s the worst effect known.

So as I lay trapped in my mind,

I have to tell you something.

This type of thinking isn’t kind,

it’s like flying with a broken wing.

Overthinking is devouring;

it tears you up and breaks you down.

It’s the feeling towering

when you start to drown.

My thoughts are dangerous,

and flat-out stupid,

and quite strangely traitorous,

and unnecessarily intruded.

Please don’t tell me,

it’s better to be alone.

I have to disagree

because my thoughts are not my own.

**Overreacting**

I’m a teenager

stuck in my own mind.

But I’ve been left

with my own life to find.

I hate the way

that everyone looks at me.

“You’re overreacting.”

From my mind, I am not free.

I know I’m different,

I can see it in their eyes.

But I’ve buried those thoughts

and conjured a disguise.

Am I being dramatic?

Am I really that dumb?

I’m trying to hide

that I’m dying; I’m numb.

I’ve made up

different versions of who I am.

I’ve decided against

sitting like a little lamb.

It’s only these days

I realize that I’m not

who I say I am,

but I’ve finally been caught.

Is this overreacting?

You say ‘this is from nowhere.’

Did you know these thoughts

didn’t come from ‘who knows where?’

If thoughts were an ocean,

I would’ve drowned years ago.

But, sadly, I’m stuck here, and

if I were dead, I would know.

**War**

If only you knew

the war I’ve been fighting.

If only you knew

the pain I’ve been writing.

Starting the war,

my hands started shaking,

I looked at the enemy,

and my heart started breaking.

Bombs exploded

everywhere but my heart.

It was the enemy,

who himself broke it apart.

The shooting didn’t cease

but didn’t hurt any soldiers.

The enemy held his head high,

and walked a little colder.

With a step in front of

my hunched little frame,

I noticed his eyes and his grin,

and how he might not be to blame.

His eyes are there,

but not active.

His grin is there,

but seems held captive.

I never was shot,

but, instead, was tortured.

The enemy didn’t notice,

he kept moving forward.

I hope he turned back.

I know he would’ve wanted to.

I hope he realizes it’s wrong.

I know now the world is blue.

The war fought on,

but nobody else was injured.

And, yet, the enemy

seemed to fall inward.

I know the enemy didn’t mean to,

he seemed to be controlled.

But you were the enemy. You.

_And you broke my heart._

**if i were a telephone booth**

****

if i were a telephone booth,

i’d be quite okay with it.

new people everyday,

but not too much for me to break within.

if i were a telephone booth,

i could help people in times of need.

they would wander the streets,

in search of something guaranteed.

if i were a telephone booth,

life would be easy.

no talking necessary,

wouldn’t that be breezy?

if i were a telephone booth,

doctors could relax

cause they’d have

less problems and cracks.

if i were a telephone booth,

it seems it’d be a win-win.

but, alas, i’m just a teenager

who’s fighting her own skin.

——

Thoughts?

As always,

Love you all,

XOXO,

Z A I N 🩵