Alissa Aronson

Just Her

Beautiful was her calling
Or so the whispers said
No one would ever compare to
All the voices that lay in her head
Her ups became her downs
Racing and ranting so
Problems turned into promises
Her thoughts stuck in a deep limbo
Pointed fingers often lingered
And her mind was slowly awoken
She played victim to the masses
Still brittle and slightly broken
Her mind was not her own
Damaged in so many ways
Her moon was filled with lasting nightmares Her happiness slowly drifting away
Excuses became a blame game
Painting her fears with Bipolar
Still she’d rise each dawn
Like a lonely little love song
Smiling all the while
Knowing this was simply just her

My name is Alissa Aronson and I am the youngest of two. I grew up in the city of Framingham Massachusetts, instilled with a love of the arts at an early age by my father, an artist. I vividly recall penning numerous short stories in elementary school, where my love of poetry began to take shape. I worked briefly as a freelance journalist and have continued writing short stories. Over the last few years, I dove head first into poetry and have never looked back. I am so happy to share my words with others.