No Poem November

A poem began to form as I fell asleep,

I was too exhausted to write it down,

Instead it ebbed and flowed on by.

Even as unconsciousness took me,

I tried to grasp onto the stanzas,

While they withdrew inside the vault.


“I haven’t written poetry for 2 months,”

I realized at 3 in the morning.

There was no time,

Nothing was left.

I need to either make more time!

Or care a little less.

My promotion, my graduation,

Everything relies on my brain,

I can’t lease it elsewhere.


My poems were hiding from me,

They knew I don’t have the time,

Yet they’ve started inching out,

Not caused by my permission,

But induced by the end in sight.


Once only my career,

And actual life remains,

I can take a breath again.


I’m in the middle of Finals,

Strangely, 

It’s the best time to write.


Here’s the problem with poetry:

It’s created with mind and soul,

Two sides I like to keep separate.

Here’s the other problem with poetry:

It’s the one thing I truly care about,

Something I never expected.


Brittan began writing poetry in June 2020. She uses poetry as a therapeutic exercise when revisiting homophobic traumatic memories and describing life with BPD & Bipolar 2. She uses poetry as a medium for self-expression when discussing Buddhismlesbianism, and platonic love.

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