Self Pity Illustration


While I’ve been working on my classes and exams, I’ve started a new project. I now can create illustrated poems.


Self Pity

You know the worst part of self-pity?

You know the truth already.

(Or what you think is true)

You know you are wrong.

(but those thoughts are still there)

So, you ask someone else.

(And feel guilty the whole time)

You hope that they won’t judge you

(at least, not like you judge yourself)

and hope that maybe they understand.

(and don’t think you’re begging for attention)

You just need someone else to tell you things,

(because you can’t force yourself to believe them)

validate who you are.

(when you can’t)


Has anyone ever noticed,

that I am a paradox on legs?

Somehow holding so many ideas?

I believe in love and peace, kindness and goodness.

And yet- I know the world.

It is not a place with these.

I know in my head that people are bad,

but trust that people are good.

I think the best of everyone else,

but of myself, the worst.

I can sometimes play the game.

I am smart, oh so book smart.

I can understand philosophical thoughts and hold their beliefs-

but I can hold ones from both sides.

When you can understand each argument

from both sides, no matter the issue,

you seem like a flake. (at least in a way)

But you have strong beliefs and are stubborn.

It takes a lot to move me,

but very little at the same time.

I am a hopeless romantic, who is also a realist.

I am a walking paradox,

and sometimes its great.

An optimistic cynic,

a mess of understanding and belief.

But sometimes, I just want to make sense.

Especially to myself.

Conversation With the World



You must change.


You don’t fit. You don’t belong.

I don’t understand.

You are wrong.

What have I done?

You exist wrong. You do not fit. That is wrong.

I don’t see why.

You are different. You do not conform.

And why is that a problem?

Because you do not fit.

I don’t understand.

Do you not want to belong? Is that not important?

Not really.

You care. You must.

But I don’t.

You will care. You have to care.


Because you do not fit.

I don’t want to fit.

Preposterous. Everyone cares.

Not me.

You care. You lie when you say you do not.

No, I care about my place in the world.


I want to find where I fit, not where I need to change.

Again, contradictory.

Not really.


I want to fit somewhere, sure.

But I want to fit as me. Not someone else.

Inconsequential. You must conform to belong.


You must change.

I don’t want to.

They are talking about you.

I know.

You do not seem happy.

They want me to conform.

Yes. You will be happy.

No, I will be different.

And more content.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

You are illogical.

I live with worlds in my mind,

with the ability to make lives in my imagination.

Why would I ever want to lose that?

I can move people, I can create.

Not everyone can.

I refuse to let that go.

You will suffer then.

So be it.

You will hurt.

Bring it on.

I will create. You can’t stop me.

You make no sense.

And you will never understand. But I will never change to suit you.

Whatever Happens

Whatever happens to us, something will matter

Something we do will mean something

What it is, I will possibly never know

I may never find out

What I meant to people

I have a tendency to


Over the smallest details

Of a conversation or

An encounter that we had

So even a complement

I read into

(I don’t mean to, I just do)

Sometimes it’s overrated

Being so observant and intuitive

It means I look for a lot

More meaning

Than most people look for

And I don’t like it all the time

But I do know that I mean

Something to some people


The heat in tongues of flame

A grasp for leaves

The sticks destroyed

Soft light that shines

On faces, buildings

Will brighten the night

With smoky air and sparks

The wind will blow

To open mouths

The pain when hand and fire meet

Sparks that fly

And burn the skin

It speaks of warmth and heat for all

Of hearts bound


It speaks of anger

Rage and spite

The black and red of hate

Deceptive beauty

Made not to touch

But irresistible

Yet lives are saved

With all its warmth

With comfort, friends and food

It brings the people


With hope and fellowship and joy

A place of closeness

Or of doubt

The fire provides it all

It leaves emotion

In hearts and minds

Tender for wounded souls

To take from one

And give to another

As emotions go

A blaze of red

A shot of white

Close hands and voice and song

The ashy log

Now black and grey

Transformed before the morn

More than

A simple gathering

It breathes of love and life

It causes laughter

For those perched near

Each other’s lives and hearts

Devouring all nature

Consuming twigs and leaves

All night

And men who fight

Or men who slight

Beware the fire’s calm glow

For ire and wars infest

The minds of men

And fire provokes

But those who gather

Near the flame

In joyous friendship sit

At night,

The fire has power

The power to draw people close

Through ages past

The fire would gather

People together

The future holds

More gatherings

Around the roaring fire

And every person

Can find sweet peace

In fire’s pleasant embrace