Wednesday, 11 January 2017
Poetry 2017 / 008
I really hate my parents.
They honestly think I'm stupid but I'm not.
They don't know what goes through my mind
or what I'm going through.
Give them any idea of even half
of my troubles and I'd be happy.
I can't be happy because I'm depressed.
I don't know how to be happy.
Fell out with Ash 'coz of other people
Feel it, mate.
Made up with Ash. She was upset.
Took it out on us.
They hate me. This is obvious.
Every single one of them.
If they did care they wouldn't do this.
They wouldn't keep doing this.
I've left them because I don't want to be here.
I guess Alanna's apologised.
We still made out,
Stuart and the boys weren't upset.
(negative emotion) I also wouldn't get my hopes up
only to have them destroyed.
I can't take this any more – the horrid comments
and people hating me for being me.
I don't want to be here.
I hate this life.
Ashleigh's being a right bitch, joined our little group
(me, Amelia and Gee) insults me in front of everyone.
Everyone says it gets better but it doesn't.
It never does. Just gets worse.
One good day,
two bad ones to compensate.
Then I'll call 'Free Fall'
One bad day. Another. Another.
I'm in free fall.
I can't any more.
I'm tired of living.
Why am I even here?
Constructed from torn pages found in Boythorpe Woods, 11th January 2017