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Don't Tell Me I Can't
Don’t Tell Me I Can’t God, I can’t stand the thought of living at home with my dad anymore. He’s such a narcissist and over bearing and I am twenty three years old. I don’t know why I hate his personality really, since Ive known him my whole life as my dad. What was my normal as a child is not okay with me now and I’m not sure it ever will be. Not that it ever was.
By Alexandra Grantabout a month ago in Confessions
What's Happened To Poetry?
What’s Happened To Poetry I remember poetry in junior high and high school. As an honors English student, We were always tasked with the ass numbing thrill of reading poetry and then forced to write it as well, in its various forms. Sonnets, Haiku, Iambic Pentameter, and on and on. I hated it. I dreaded it. I was not bad at it per se, but I did not enjoy it one bit. Along with reading Shakespeare, which I still can’t stand, I had a long and distinguished list of poetry I loathed reading. Shakespeare was just, for me, difficult to follow, droll, dissertations on old historical issues hammered over and over again, in old English, which is not spoken in the last hundred years, if not longer.
By Alexandra Grantabout a month ago in Poets
Labyrinth
I was born into a toxic marriage. A mother who abandoned me and the narcissist that raised me. They probably had no business being married, let alone having children. One parent who left, and didn’t care enough to take me away from the toxicity she ran from, and a man who, in his arrogance and self aggrandizing way, would leverage me and my sibling as sympathy points to attain women.
By Alexandra Grant2 months ago in Humans
A Fasting Cry To God
Fasting Cry to God Our marriage had never been ideal. We married out of respect for our faith six years prior. In that time we had nothing but struggles and incompatibility. I was educated and married to a man with a seventh grade education. Our mentality was very different and so was our character.
By Alexandra Grant2 months ago in Potent
