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Maya Arredondo Poem
Time slips in and out
when doing the something you like.
Time slips out and in,
when doing something you hate,
but how can we truly measure,
time,
when there is so little time,
yet not enough time.
Hours pass as they all do,
but I have no time left.
No time left to be me.
So much time to be me.
Yet I have so much,
time left to be me.
How will I know,
if time is too much,
or too little?
Only a decade in a century
Only a year in a decade
Only 12 months in a year.
Only 4 weeks in a month.
Only 52 weeks in a year.
Only 7 days a week.
Only 365 days in a year.
Only 24 hours in a day.
Only 60 minutes in an hour.
Only 60 seconds in a minute.
So much time,
Yet so little time.
I wish I had more time.
Copyright © Maya Arredondo | Year Posted 2026
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Maya Arredondo Poem
Cramps and aches
again and again
all day long
during this time of the month.
Yet I still have to go to school
Yet others still have to go to work.
Why?
Why?
It is all a part of the grand design.
To continue to use women as labor
until we die due to exhaustion
this isn’t something new,
this is a tale as old as time.
A song that continues to rhyme
throughout history
Why do you have to rhyme?
It never had to rhyme.
We are the ones who created life
yet you work us to death.
kills us with your monstrous greed.
It is clear
we are not human beings
we are the ones who give life
so we all must suffer in silence
as the wheel turns
again and again,
as the rhymes repeat
again and again.
As we die from seeing no rest
during our cramps and aches.
Nothing but cramps and aches
for the ones who give you life.
Nothing but cramps and aches
for the ones that have been laboring
for you for millennia’s.
Nothing but cramps and aches
to help divide our sex.
Nothing but cramps and aches
to divide the sex’s.
Nothing but cramps and aches
to divide the working and middle class.
Nothing but cramps and aches
to divide races and ethnicity’s.
Nothing but cramps and aches
to keep the bottom line going.
Nothing but cramps and aches
to keep us in line.
Nothing but cramps and aches
as we slowly die,
from your monstrous greed.
when will it be enough
for the oligarch’s
monstrous greed.
will it be enough
when we humanity is finally done with
thanks to your monstrous greed.
Copyright © Maya Arredondo | Year Posted 2026
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Maya Arredondo Poem
Today I can smell,
nothing of the room.
That's all I smell in Ms. Rilling's room,
at the end of my junior year.
Truth be told,
I am conflicted,
about,
the end of my junior year.
I am happy the school year is over
yet scared about being one step closer
to being thrown to the wolves,
thrust into adulthood,
into the cruel world,
into the complex and complicated thing,
that is college.
I am worried about
how things might go on my own.
But I take a few deep breaths,
in and out,
tell myself it will be okay,
that adulthood is not here yet,
at the end of my junior year.
Copyright © Maya Arredondo | Year Posted 2026
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Maya Arredondo Poem
You think you see me,
but you don't.
You see the mask I put on,
but not me,
not the real me.
You say I don't wear a mask,
that you would know if I did,
but you don't know me!
You don't see me!
And how I struggle in the world,
in conversations,
in gestures.
You don't see me,
pretend to be someone I am not.
You don't see me,
imitate your language,
your faces
your interactions,
your signals,
your cues,
your words!
You don't see me!
Copyright © Maya Arredondo | Year Posted 2026
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