One of the best pictures I've ever taken is one I struggle to look at.
At one point I even framed it, but I had to take it down.
It was more than just an image.
It was a melancholy memory that I mistakingly forced between wood and glass.
It was a moment in time that should always remain just that. Nothing more, nothing less.
Author: Ash Ochoa Poetry
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Raised
My environment made me this way.
It has made me volatile, self-destructive, and deeply despondent.
Yet I wasn't abused nor neglected.
Society's standards have tried to suffocate me into a state of submission that I struggle to silence.
I was never raised to be resentful and restless, but I have grown into these grievances.
Babel
I realized that I had flipped through an entire chapter without retaining any words.
My eyes had scanned each line of thirteen full pages without actually reading a single letter.
Thirteen.
I apparently had no desire to try to comprehend anything besides the blur of babel in my mind.
So I closed the book with a sigh.
Unreliable
I'm an unreliable narrator.
My stories are missing timelines and their details have been diluted by either drugs or depression.
Although that's probably for the best.
Why repeat what I'm urged to remember,
but compelled to forget?
Alley
Him
One night split my life
into two separate eras.
Before him and after him.
Detachment
I was unable to feel the detachment that I desperately desired. I instead felt everything that I requested to stay away.
I felt the anger, the jealously, and the unintentional longing. I felt all of the unjust and unexplainable emotions that I had sought so hard to avoid.
Quietly
I hope that when it's time for me to leave,
I go quickly and quietly.
This world has deserved nothing but my screams.
Yet my soul will only seek silence in the end.
Guilt
Guilt is an awful gnawing thing that relentlessly eats at you.
And mine had become a painfully persistent parasite, rapidly growing as it fed off of my secrets and shame.
Devouring my lies almost as quickly
as my lies were devouring me.
AO Poetry 
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