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Neve Vesalius Poem
I hate the patriarchy
I hate that men have control over my body
I hate how I have to walk around the city knowing that being pretty is a justification for rape
And I hate that I have to always try and counter that by looking down
Not making eye contact
I hate that I have to act ashamed because some men think confidence is permission
I hate that if all my efforts fail it’s illegal for me to have autonomy in a decision that would change my life
I hate that even though men have no idea how it feels to live in fear they have the power to make fear my reality
They have the power to make fear all I know
They have the power to take my life from me
I hate that when they say they want to save “unborn children”
They mean they don’t want me to have a choice
But when the child is born, they won’t help pay for their food
They shame for struggling when money isn’t available
They shame teen mothers even when the mother was only walking home after a long day of school, when the mother never wanted anything to do with them
And they say it was the girl’s fault because her “clothes showed too much skin” and because “she looked at me, so I thought it was okay” and because “she never said no”
How could she say no
She was scared to fight back
Because in the patriarchy, a woman is a tool
A woman is not her own person
A woman can’t make her own decisions
Because she is not valued
I am used and I know it every day
I am 15 and I already worry because I know this could be me
I am 15 and I worry that my little sister’s life could be ruined because she doesn’t get to choose
I am 15 and I worry about all my friends and my classmates and every girl and woman who has to live with the same fear I do
I am 15 and I know that while this is my reality now, this won’t be my reality forever
I am 15 and I am ready for something to change
Copyright © Neve Vesalius | Year Posted 2026
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Neve Vesalius Poem
To love someone so much
To know that you would do anything for them
To know that you will always look up to them
To be willing to put them before yourself
To know that they are your favorite person
But you are not theirs
Hurts.
It hurts because you know that they love someone more than they love you
It hurts because you can't do anything about it
It hurts because no one loves you as much as they love you
But you are not their first
You are their second
It hurts because they love you but not as much as they love that other person
It hurts because they love you but not as much as you love them
Copyright © Neve Vesalius | Year Posted 2026
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Neve Vesalius Poem
You will be okay
Don't listen to the girls who call you ugly
You aren't ugly, you are perfect
Mami and papa want to know what's going on with you
They don't want you to hide it because you are scared to hurt them
Don't do what that teacher tells you
She isn't trying to keep you safe
Don't give up on your music studies
Soon they will be taking you to New York City to compete
Don't ever stop writing how you feel
It's your right to express yourself
It's okay to love somebody
Even if they aren't the best for you
But most importantly, my love,
Don't be scared
To ask for help
Sooner than when I did
Copyright © Neve Vesalius | Year Posted 2026
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Neve Vesalius Poem
Nette Onclaud
Musings on a Bench Poetry Contest
03/15/26
Bench of Memories
On a bench in the wind, a woman sat
Remembering her student who
Died two days earlier, by his own hand
A father sat moaning, blaming himself
Remembering his son, who took his life
Two days before, and on that same bench
The ghost of a boy sat
Wishing he could take it back
Copyright © Neve Vesalius | Year Posted 2026
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Neve Vesalius Poem
Time is a complicated concept. Truth and opinion throw me off. Some songs just have a way where they just completely embody my entire being and hold me in a hug till the end. I don't understand how any of this works and every time I try to wrap my mind around it I feel a lightness taking over. It's like I am made to let this unknown force take over for a minute. It's like some other worldly being has allowed my brain a rest. As time passes I sit and look at the air as if something is there looking back. I hear it in my head on occasion, a small response to my ever present questions. Why am I alive? Why is anyone alive? What is going on? But just as I question what is going on, a minute or so has passed, and it's no longer what is going on but what was going on. So long this has puzzled me that I've near given up on searching for a solution and now I embrace it willingly. When I feel it coming in I set my eyes in a place where one would not think anything of it. Instead of at a wall, I look towards an open book in my palms or out the window rather than at a face. I breathe deeply making sure every single cell in my body has enough oxygen to keep going. Sometimes I remind myself that I am not a single person but millions and millions of cells and because matter cannot be created or destroyed, I was always here and even after I die, I will still be here. Maybe in another form but that’s beside the point. If cells make up my entire being but none of them have autonomy or personality, how do I?
I've realized we will never truly die.
Copyright © Neve Vesalius | Year Posted 2026
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Neve Vesalius Poem
8th grade
april 14
you don't have a reason to be sad
you don't deserve it
why do you think you should be allowed to be sad
what happened to you
nothing
nothing happened
stop seeking attention
you don't deserve it
10th grade
march 30
you don't have to have a reason
you can just be sad
it's okay little one
feel your feelings
don't act on your impulses
you are enough
Copyright © Neve Vesalius | Year Posted 2026
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Neve Vesalius Poem
I don’t know why I’m here. I quite literally don't understand. How do two tiny cells create something like me? Five feet and three inches and one hundred ten pounds of cells? What? This shouldn’t work. These single cells are not even alive. They are alive, but they don't have autonomy. They can't think for themselves. But somehow, together, they make me? A very much alive, configuration of dead things. But dead means you have to once have been alive and now I’m just so confused, do I ever die? Because if I’m made up of un-alive things, then how can I ever die. How could anyone ever die? I am a host to my cells, they live off me. I am what makes me alive. And yet, I am not. I can think, but who really is thinking? Who really is in my head making all these decisions? Who is deciding what to type? Right now. I put a period right now. I type ttthree extra t's. i do, but I don't. And why am I even wondering this at this very moment when I should be studying for this AP World test I have coming up. What sparked my intrigue about my very being? Why is it that at the dullest of moments, I begin to question my existence? And why is it that when I begin to do so, I extinguish the flame of life by overanalyzing everything until I can no longer breathe. Until I can no longer function. Until I am watching my life through a distance, a foggy pane as they might say. Two steps away from myself, controlling my movements by proxy. Living my life through another person's eyes. When will I realize that person is me?
Copyright © Neve Vesalius | Year Posted 2026
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Neve Vesalius Poem
What does it feel like to drown.
I don't know.
But I do know what it feels like to sink.
The world's eyes are on me but I can't see them back.
I look down but there is no ground.
My head starts pounding.
What do I have to do to stop.
What must I do to get my head to stop twisting around and around.
I'm not an owl. My skin is tearing.
My neck hurts but my head is still spinning.
I can't call out for help because they will fall into this tornado with me.
I don't know what to do.
How do I startle my nervous system.
Cold water is too far away.
I can't do this.
I must do this.
Crap. That was too far.
It's flooding. What do I do.
I can't stop it. What do I do.
My head hurts.
I can't breath.
I'm asphyxiating.
Copyright © Neve Vesalius | Year Posted 2026
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Neve Vesalius Poem
Won't lovers revolt now
I'm mad, I am somehow
Mad? Am I madam
I really must have him
For I'm madly in love with thou
Copyright © Neve Vesalius | Year Posted 2026
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