Poetic Blueprint

Blog by Dana Latisha Young

A.K.A Day Love

This blog is about all things poetry. I will post my own poetry and write articles about ways for people to write, edit and publish their own poetry. There will be interviews also with poets. There will be poetry tips and words of encouragement also.

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  • Will There Ever Be a Day

    by

    Poem by Dana L. Young

    Will I ever wake up and find
    That things are better this time?

    That you aren’t angry
    And I’m not misunderstood?
    Will it be a day that you actually
    Feel good?

    A day where anger isn’t your
    First reaction
    To every situation.
    And lashing out verbally
    On every occasion.

    Is that just a dream that
    In reality
    Doesn’t truly exist for me?

    I wonder because no matter
    What I do to help you
    Feel better.

    You reject it and end up
    Ruining a good day.
    But I always forgive you,
    Anyway…

    So when I wake up tomorrow
    Will that be a day of sorrow?

    Or will it be the very first day
    That you wake and things are okay?

    Dana Young  (c) October 1st, 2025

    – Living with my parent with Borderline Personality Disorder…-

  • Stuck

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    Poem by Dana L. Young

    Wedged securely in a place
    That I don’t remember agreeing
    To enter.
    Unable to wiggle enough to remove
    My limbs or my mind
    From being trapped.
    Stuck in a pattern of self-doubt
    And obligations
    And I don’t remember when it started
    Nor is there a map to follow
    To get back to the safety of home.
    A stranger in a foreign land
    That feels more familiar each day.
    Stuck in a cycle of waking, sleeping
    And nothing in between.
    No idea why I am here,
    In these moments, in these mindsets,
    In these snares and traps,
    But I wonder…
    Is freedom close?

  • Life

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    By Dana Young

    Life’s been a journey so far

    That I didn’t anticipate.

    The twists and turns,

    Inner tears and outward joy.

    The laughter or sorrow.

    And each day bringing gifts

    That I appreciate

    Or problems that I can’t fix.

    It’s a journey that keeps going

    On a very long, twisted road

    With many turns and obstacles.

    But it’s been a joy, a mystery

    And interesting

    Along the way…

    So far.

  • TBH

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    Poem by Dana Young

    (Audio of this poem is at the end of the the poem. If you want, you can play it and read along)

    To be honest I’m not where I want to be. Yet not where I used to be. It’s all new to me. I’m a shell of my former shell. I’m feeling destroyed. Trapped in mental hell.
    The mental jail I’m in has no escape. I’ve sealed my fate with past mistakes. With no way to leave my mind and find the right direction. With fear I approach the steps. Not yet ready to climb from fear of the unknown and known and I feel like I’m pressed for time.
    Left for dead. But walking. A zombie with no desire for brains. Just a clear mind and a whole heart. A new day and a fresh start.

    A new me that’s not restricted that healed from wounds that are self inflicted.
    Guilt and pain, approval addiction, disorders and everything that plagued me and haunts me still
    Following me endlessly, desperate to feel… something.
    Other than. This numbing nothing
    Other than this crushing something
    Other than this nowhere setting
    Other than my mind forgetting
    How to heal and how to feel.
    How to separate the false and real.
    To bring to life what died and awaken the dormant.
    To rid me of these demons that continue to torment.
    That strip away layers at a time in an effort to reach and keep my mind
    To make me think I’m doing fine I’m intentionally blind
    Not wanting to experience the real feelings that I submerged in the ocean of tears that I shed for years as I bled
    Blue blood for the sorrow has stolen the red.
    I scream for the peace that I seek but have yet to release.
    I have yet to speak life.
    I walk in my sleep.
    Slumber so deep that It seems even God can’t reach…
    Me.

    TBH Spoken Word poem by Dana Young. Poem written by Dana Young and using Suno AI to read it and attach music to it.

  • My Favorite Game

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    What’s your favorite game (card, board, video, etc.)? Why?

    I have always loved Scrabble. From the time that I was 4 years old, I have always loved reading, writing, spelling, learning new words and challenges. Scrabble is the perfect outlet for all of those things I loved. It’s the perfect game for me that combines everything I love into one game.

  • Walking

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    Poem by Dana Young

    Walking solo on a crowded earth
    Been this way since birth
    Having dreams of achieving
    But seeing with clear glasses is believing.

    Walking with my head in a cloud
    Dreaming of better realities than what I allow.
    Than what I allow myself to see.
    A better me than what I let myself be.

    Walking wistfully down memory lane
    But it’s a dead end, a path towards insanity
    And self blame.
    A path where I see all that I desire
    And the dreams I lived in my caged empire

    A princess with no authority or motivation
    To change her life and stall the falling sensation
    The feeling of falling from the pedestal others
    Placed me on.
    Because I couldn’t do it myself. That desire was gone.

    Walking with no coordination
    From anxiety, my mind’s creation.
    To keep me in a box like an unopened toy.
    To steal my untapped sense of joy.

    An ability I barely remember how to do
    To just be happy, is unlike tying a shoe.
    Not something that can be practiced
    And purely achieved
    Unless you sincerely believe.

    Happiness awakens a part of me that is asleep
    That is under the surface, buried deep
    The side of me that I dream of being
    That sense of joy feels so freeing

    Walking into my destiny blindly,
    Not knowing where I’m going but I’m here to find me
    To reclaim what I’ve lost, like my ability to talk or cry
    To heal, to dream.. I’ve graduated from learning to walk
    Now it’s time to fly

    Walking poem written by Dana Young and I added a Chorus and added music in this audio clip. Instrumental music generated by Suno AI

  • My Favorite Thing About Myself

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    What’s your favorite thing about yourself?

    My favorite thing about myself is my creativity. I love writing, drawing, painting, improvising songs and short piano composition. I rarely have time to create as much lately, but I love it.

  • My favorite childhood book…

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    Do you remember your favorite book from childhood?

    …was the Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson. It broke me as a child to read about a tragedy. I cried every time I read it, but it changed me so profoundly.

    I understood loss, but I could also see the love, healing, hope and life after trauma. It helped me with my own painful thoughts and situations at the time in ways that are hard to describe.

  • My Autistic Social Tug of War

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    (What I wish I could tell my family member to explain some of my struggles)

    Poem by Dana L. Young 

    I feel like we are on 2 opposing sides 

    Of socializing.

    You cling to the idea of being surrounded by loving family.

    You pull me towards your web of extrovertedness and assertiveness.

    You pull me into your suffocating world of long conversations and overwhelming emotions. 

    You grip and yank at me, keeping me bound 

    To you. 

    Bound to being social with you. 

    I push away as if it’s an object I refuse to be near.

    As if just the thought of socializing could…

    Break me.

    You don’t understand this tug of war isn’t a game that I feel I can win.

    By denying you my time and space I feel 

    Like I’m robbing you of your own joy and satisfaction. 

    Yet I feel like I’m drowning, submerged in a form of quicksand.

    Not able to move or breathe.

    sinking, sinking. 

    Inwardly crying out for you to hear me but afraid to say the words.

    To let you know that socializing drains me.

    Drains me faster than off brand, cheaply made batteries.

    And drains me faster than an app running in the background of a phone. 

    I need resets, refreshes and relaxation

    Just to keep going. 

    I’m operating on an outdated system.

    My brain is shutting down, playing 

    On autopilot, replaying archived conversations.

    Speaking without thought, sound or emotion.

    Knowing that neither of us wins, really.

    You successfully pull me into your solo social circle. 

    But you lose too because I’m only halfway present.

    This social game of tug of war has no winners.

    Poem by Dana Young

  • Hateful Depression

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    Poem by Dana Young

    Depression

    I hate you.

    You stole the joy from my mother’s eyes,

    Exchanging her smiles with frowns,

    Turning her sunshines into turbulent black skies.

    You made every day of rising out of sleep uncertain,

    Of the mindset she will be in and what side of her I’ll get.

    I hate that you took what could’ve been.

    The tiny glimpses of happiness that I see radiate off of her in rare, stolen moments.

    That ends abruptly in seconds.

    You stole the light from inside of her, forcing her to live in the darkness

    Of her thoughts and self hatred.

    You caused her to hate each second of every day that she was born

    Yearning for death at every second

    Because it’s death and not life that she considers a gift. 

    You changed her perceptions of everything.

    She doesn’t feel the warmth of love or the security of family.

    She sees holes, and pits, despair and other distortions.

    I hate how you cause her to view herself and her life 

    As just unnecessary, worthless and hopeless.

    She doesn’t see the reason why she is alive

    And can’t take the pain of living through another day.

    Depression.

    I hate you. Not just for the mental anguish you bring but for the physical representations. 

    For the guilt she feels for wanting to share feelings from her wounded soul

    But knowing the burden and pain it places on the loved listener. 

    To hear for the umpteenth time that she

    Wishes death had claimed her at any of the moments in her life, whether through her hand or natural causes. 

    Depression.

    I hate you. 

    You took everything from me and I have to watch my mother slowly fade away.

    Dying internally, mentally hemorrhaging as her thoughts take her to deeper, darker depths.

    You took away the “her” that could’ve been from life traumas and hardships. 

    You took the oxygen away from me when you claimed my mother. 

    When you chose her as one of yours.

    You took my heart beat when you placed your greedy, narcissistic claws on my mother’s heart.

    Depression.

    I hate you more than I could ever express.

    You chopped away at her heart until all that’s left.

    Is a void…and depression.

    Dana Young