Junior year in university when my first romantic relationship was going sour, I wrote this poem reminding myself that I mustn’t rely on anyone but myself. It still rings true today.
April, 5 2017
You are Going to Have to Figure this Out on Your Own
On my own,
There is nothing that I own.
This is nothing new.
Despite my might,
since I could think, I knew
I am no more than a mite.
No one will hear,
or see beyond first sight.
Nothing more for me than here.
Where my words no one will cite.
And that is right!
Of the night,
why would one write,
instead of a knight?
I am a single cell.
Nothing together to sew.
Nothing to sell
and no will to sow.
On my own,
I mourn
there is nothing that I own,
this or any morn’.
My Dragonfly Life 