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Colorful Dreams, Making Sense, Insecurity or a Deeper Feeling

Poems Written by Aura Hendler

Author's Note:

Colorful Dreams and Making Sense are about my case of Social Pragmatic Communication Disorder and how I've navigated it and how I've constantly felt my whole life. Insecurity or a Deeper Feeling is about my gender dysphoria and how uncomfortable I am about voicing it, even with those closest to me like my parents.


The Insomniac’s Prayer

Let me

sleep, for I have done

nothing wrong

I am laying here

my eyes to the ceiling

staring at the bulb

where a light flickered out

at my demand

music is playing in my ears

and Melatonin is in my


yet it is never enough

for my eyelids to feel heavy

let me drift to the

dimensions of dreams

and other subconscious epiphanies

let me not function

off of coffee and

caffeinated ginger tea with


darkness, envelope me

with your crushing arms

coat my eyes with your

black glaze and let me


I am the insomniac

And this is my prayer.

Remembrance of a Friend

I am sitting in bed, tears in

my eyes

I am lonely

I have never felt this way before

despite my being alone all the time

What I wouldn’t give

to see that smile again

to hear that laugh

to see that skinny mass of darkness

that made me so bright

why didn’t you come back

Why must I

wish upon these stars

to hear those jokes

to see that smile

to feel completed

in a way that I haven’t felt in




since I’ve seen

you last

I wouldn’t care

if you were different

because it would still be you

and you are my friend

I still remember

how could I ever forget


out in the snow

trying to see who could last the longest

without their sweaters or coats

in the bitter cold


the time we built houses in

Minecraft to find the better builder

yet we couldn’t decide the winner

Will we ever?


with other friends

where we chugged down

tiny water bottles

to see who was the fastest

What I wouldn’t give to hear

your voice

remember your smile

never forget

your laugh

You are all I want to remember

I miss you so much

I am alone

I am lonely

but I will never forget you

Shut Up

I whisper softly to myself

to memorize a poem

to present the next day

I try to be quiet

and I know I’m loud-spoken

let me speak to myself

for you are louder than I could

ever be

you say shut up

to me while I work as quietly

as my memorization

allows me

I’ve learned not to care

about what you say when I go

into my own head or

talk to myself

so I won’t shut up

I won’t be quiet

because that hasn’t gotten me

anywhere and it

never will

Let me talk to myself

because I’m not

hurting you

even though you’ve hurt


Girl With The Music

Earbuds in the ears

Volume at 7.5%

Playing an already soft song

The lyrics and the music

A soft massage to the


The girl with that is me

Tracy Chapman,

Imagine Dragons,


Marc Cohn,

Demi Lovato,

The Avett Brothers

All coax me to sleep

Every night

Far better than

Melatonin with my Insomnia

I want to share that

Inner peace

I want all to hear

I may have different taste

For my music, but this

Is what I need

Poking Roses

Fold into 4 and

4 quick folds

Another 4

Another 4

Pleat fold each corner

And half unfold

All 12 points

Now, by far the most

Fun, but

Potentially the most painful

Piece of my origami roses

Quickly stabbing that

Wire stem, covered with fluff

Through the nearly split center of

This rose

A quick puncture,

Like a scalpel through skin

The sharp wire tip pokes my finger

Roughly, but not quite hard enough

To draw blood

Like a light green, fluffy syringe

They are poking roses,

They are, but they are my

Marbled paper roses

Colorful Dreams

Why can’t I read

A face like a book

Why do I have to look for clues

Like a detective to

Find how someone feels

Eyelashes in clumps

Means tears of some

Variety, to which I’m always wrong

Slightly squinted eyes is


Why can’t I just tell

I was already lagged to begin

With but

It’s a dream for me to read emotions

Like words on a page

But it’s a colorful dream

That is too far out of

Reach for me to see anymore

But I can sense things

Where no one else sees

It’s like they’re begging

For someone to see

I don’t scream for them

But people can scream

Feelings for me

I’m going to scream my feelings

I will try to see yours

I’m no empath because I am

Unable to see those emotions

That are supposedly so

Easy to see

Why can’t I understand

Why can’t I be like everyone


Why must I go a hundred

Miles further

To see how someone simply feels

It’s no colorful dream that will

Come true

But I can imagine

I can dream a colorful dream

Chrysanthemum Scapegoat

I take my folders

Green and purple in color

And I sit on the bench outside

While half-listening to my

Classmates inside

I’m just folding a couple of

Chrysanthemums to educate my

Peers on the fine art of

Origami flowers

I see the Spanish teacher

Start to walk towards me

I signal for them to escape

But only one kid sees

He gets out and sits next

To me

And asks how to make

A Chrysanthemum, it

Seems staged I know, but

I’ll always help to keep

Everyone I can out of


I show him the steps and

The Spanish teacher appears

Oblivious to the fact

That I was the only one not

Breaking the rules

I’m a scapegoat, everyone

Else got yelled at

But us, all because

Of a hot pink

Piece of paper,

So elegantly folded into a


My Garden of Eden

I have folded these elegant

Flowers, and I

Have a roll of painter’s tape

Yes, the adhesive is


Like my dream,

But it will not peel

The paint on the ceiling

And walls

I stab pipe-cleaners through

Every flower and tape them to my


The cosmos looks like a ceiling

Fan in the oddest place,

A bouquet of flowers,

Perfect for a funeral,

Sits by my bookshelf

Tied with a fluffy, black pipe cleaner


A rainbow hydrangea perched

On the wall

With a green ribbon vine,

Constantly threatening to

Fall off

A yellow narcissus on my bookshelf

And a pink rose with a crane

Attached on the other side

A random, dark blue

Chrysanthemum grows

Above my dresser

An attention-demanding sunflower

Sprouting from

My door

Space-paper azaleas

Line the foot of my

Bed like a battalion of floral soldiers

Ready for battle

A rose vine spirals up and down

My lantern-like desk lamp

Several flowers are

Shoved into the red vase

But I still need more space

My room is an untamed garden

Of paper flowers

That grow from every surface

They sprout like weeds

And grow into beautiful

Blooms of

Gorgeous paper

Stay Up

All of those folds

Seemingly for nothing

The several yards of tape

All for nothing

I wasted so many resources

On keeping that flower

Up on the ceiling

Like a bright ceiling fan

The centre a gold,

2 petals, light pink

The other 4 petals

Turquoise and teal

Like the surface of the sea

The other, using 14 sheets of paper

One of each pattern,

And the 2 shades of green

I taped a dark green ribbon to it,

Maybe that would keep it from


But I failed, stay up

Stay up, stay up

Don’t fall like a

Stone to the

Bottom of a lake

Stay strong paper flowers

Sprout from the ceiling and walls

Like weeds in between


Stay strong, soul

Grow and blossom

Like all of those beautiful

Hand-made flowers


I have my set of sketching

Pencils, 12B to 10H

It draws great things

Like my characters for stories

I’ll typically start a drawing with

My HB pencil, your average

Number 2 pencil.

I make the rough human form

Of one flying through the paper

On the floor

And add the lines to remove

The ellipse joints with my eraser

I add details to the

Clothes and face

I draw details into the background

Like falling books and papers and a couple of flowers

I move the sheets of paper to

My desk, and I pull out

A simple, black ballpoint pen and

Cover every line with the black

Ballpoint blood

I pull out my eraser again