Liz Zarb trying to navigate life
I always thought I had a sweet face Hidden behind baby fat and Hair grown long. Naive and inexperienced, But content, Until I got sick. Seventeen-years-old With a bacteria-ridden body, Barely holding down food, Feeling my insides turn ugly and broken As my intestines failed me. I laid useless for three months Chopped my hair … Continue reading The Year I Turned Pretty
I am sick of being a fantasy Sickly sweet nice guys, Dripping with vinegar disguised as honey. Take my kindness and Turn it into a knife And say since they don't strike I should sleep with them. I am not your life saver I cannot save you Or cure the angst That's just your body's … Continue reading I Owe You Nothing
I was going through my notebook for this semester and found a "self-analysis" I wrote back in September during my Introduction to Poetry class, and re-reading it, it kind of reads like my ethos and drive when it comes to writing, something which I may have lost over the past few months with schoolwork. So, … Continue reading “My Own Self-Analysis”
What do you do when your job is to write, but you have no inspiration? I guess a life update. I am more than halfway done with my fall semester in my sophomore year at Emerson College. This is my first semester as a Writing, Literature, and Publishing major, and I definitely have made the … Continue reading Life Update, November 2018
To All the Boys (and Girls) I’ve Loved Before, There’s quite a few of you, aren’t there? Obviously, I’m not going to say any names, but I have a feeling you all know who you are. I’ve learned something from each of you. Whether the feelings were reciprocated or not (and more often, they were … Continue reading To All the Boys (and Girls) I’ve Loved Before
I would have followed you to the ends of the earth But I can't anymore. And I would have fought every battle right by your side But I can't anymore. I cannot be your ally, Nor can I be by your side at all times. But I will not be your enemy Nor will I … Continue reading The Call for a Ceasefire
I have come across something which I found profoundly disturbing, and that is the so called “Sylvia Plath effect.” This is the theory that poets, specifically female poets, are more likely to suffer from mental illness. Before I continue any further with my disdain, I would like to make clear that my abhorrence for this … Continue reading A Mentally Ill Poet’s Opinion on the Sylvia Plath Effect
