Poetry helps me get things off my chest in a round about way:

To the world, But what am I?

But a lowly, Insignificant child.

My opinion, is none of matter,

Adults..they do it better…

 

A child,

I be no more,

Of that you made sure.

 

With your slashing , words that cut,

With your hand, much too rough,

Innoncence stolen long ago,

Innoncence that’s longed for so.

 

A child,

I be no more,

Of that you made sure.

 

Driven to the edge,  and back,

So easy to surrender to black,

You the shadow that befalls,

The darkness creeping, as he calls.

 

A child,

I be no more,

Of that you made sure.

 

To those that say “You should win,”

But have you felt the words that tear my skin?

Felt the stabbing of a thorn,

Felt the meaning of forlorn.

 

A child,

I be no more,

Of that you made sure.

 

And when blanketed in brown earth,

won’t you cry you were the one hurt?

Eat your meds I don’t care,

I’ll haunt you. just beware

 

because..

A child,

I be no more,

Of that you made damned sure.