Teenage Poetry #1 and Being Picked On As A Child
Some old “poetry” I found in my teenage journal. Let’s guess who owned a rhyming dictionary, shall we? I don’t know what’s wrong with me Am I really this messed I’m just like them, why can’t the see? I feel like I’m being possessed I don’t know what I feel I just want to fit in These wounds will always heal Want to fight back but I’ll never win I’m tired of the lies, the cuts and the bruises I’m sick of the pain, the hatred of me Forget the teachers and all their excuses Can’t we all just get along, wouldn't you agree? How many more times will I be kicked to the ground How many more times will I be insulted and mocked? Do they pick on me because I can’t make a sound? I run away but I’m being stalked. If you couldn’t guess, I was picked on a lot as a kid, and through my teens. I was the classic weird kid. Super smart, shy, practically mute, speech impediment, weird interests, weak, gullible. I remember as a kid, maybe around 8 or 9 years old,