Algebra, how wonderful,
Calculus, even greater,
Do you want the cons,
Now or later?

Well, I can't say I don't enjoy it,
Mathematics is interesting enough,
But it can get a tad confusing,
And pretty freaking tough.

I'm currently in math class,
How funny is that?
Yeah, not much,
But we can't exactly chat.

We can't talk, I finished the task,
So now, what do I do?
Write a poem of course,
With equations like, 73+2.

I tried my best,
A poem in class,
I hope you enjoyed,
But it doesn't mean I'll pass.

Her eyes stand out,
On a canvas full of ink,
The contrast between them,
"Nothing better," I think.

Her eyes reflect her heart,
And the liveliness of her soul.
She's like a problem, needing an answer,
And her eyes are the main goal.

The trees stand before me,
Like a crowd of men,
A jury of wooden minds,
Facing me again.

Unknowing of the consequences,
Of my actions’ reply,
These trees are the gates,
To the forest’s eye.

A whole journey ahead,
And I shall trek on,
I shall take the chance,
Before it is gone.

Take that chance,
Take that risk,
Just believe me,
It shan’t be brisk.

What’s wrong?
Are you really asking me that?

You see me standing alone,
In a hallway,
No one around,
And think something’s wrong.

You see me,
Head down,
Reading a book at lunch,
And think something’s wrong.

No other time,
Have you acknowledged my existance,
That I am even among you,
And now you ask ‘what’s wrong’?

Unbelieveable.

You don’t know who I am,
Yet assume you do,
Because you hear my name called,
Every morning,
Every period,
Every day.

Now, let me ask you something,
What’s wrong?

You have, no doubt,
Heard of the road less traveled,
It would probably be easier,
To call it the road untraveled.

Not many choose to take that path,
And that is, honestly, fair,
It may lead to something great,
But not many seem to care.

Not many walk it’s cobbles,
Hence the metaphorical name,
But the outcome of this path,
Will never be the same.

I can’t tell you what to do,
Or where to go from here,
You need to choose your path,
You need to face your fear.

This isn’t meant to be a poem,
Just a story about me,
A thing that happens often,
A thing not many people see.

Yet, it’s turning into one,
A poem, no doubt,
I don’t exactly control it,
But here’s what the story’s about.

I’m going through a time,
That life just seems bad,
My guardians tell me I have ‘insight’,
But all I feel is sad.

There doesn’t seem to be happiness,
And some people around me know,
But most are oblivious,
So I try put on a show.

I know that a friend is reading this,
And to this friend, I say hi,
I know that you know,
But it still feels like a lie.

When I need someone,
No one’s there,
Life seems to hate me,
It seems unfair.

But that’s not the case,
Or at least I hope,
Because there’s always a way out,
It’s like my safety rope.

So, to my friend, and anyone else,
I’m just here to say hi,
It wasn’t much of a story,
But now I say goodbye.

How are you?
They ask.

Every day, at least twice,
Someone asks,
How are you?

But they really don't want to know,
What is the point,
Of asking,
If you're looking for a lie?

I'm great, how about you?
I'm as great,
As the Great Wall of China,
Broken,
Barely there.

I'm as great,
As the Great Barrier Reef,
Slowly dying inside,
Deep within me.

I'm as great as great can be,
How about you?

Hey, Grandma,
I miss you,
Why did you have to leave me?
I barely knew you,
I barely understood your foreign tongue,
Why did you have to go?

My lfie si a cdoe,
Taht I wnat yuo ot dodece.

Pealse dodece it.

For me.
Help me.

If I say, "leave me alone,"
It means, "go away,"
Didn't you hear me?
What more am I to say?

I want to be alone,
I want to be in peace,
Don't wanna be asked if I'm ok,
'Cause in 5 seconds, my mood wouldn't cease.

If you can't read my expression,
I'm clearly not okay,
So, for now, give me space,
And we'll talk another day.

I walk the halls,
Watching her flowing hair,
Golden in the perfect lighting,
Her hips moving from side to side,
Like Newton's cradle,
Left,
Right,
Left,
Right.

I envy her perfectly highlighted face,
And her winged liner,
That's as sharp as her heels,
Clicking along the wooden boards,
Hypnotizing everyone and anyone,
Including me.

Me,
The girl that walks alone,
To and from class,
The girl that wears tattered jeans,
And stained shirts,
The girl that drops her books,
And gets bullied on countless occasions,
The girl that wishes that she was just like her,
Just like this girl that walks the halls.

Why am I not good enough?
And I'm not talking about others' opinions,
I'm talking about my own,
My self-image,
My self-worth,
My self-confidence,
Why am I not good enough?

Little do I know,
As I walk the halls,
That this girl,
This perfect image of a woman,
Doesn't want to be that way anymore,
While I would **** for that,
She would simply throw it away,
If it were that easy.

The popularity,
The attention,
The friends,
She'd be rid of it in a heartbeat,
If it were up to her.

But I still believe that I'm not good enough,
That I need a face of makeup,
Heels that are too tall to balance on,
An outfit to make me comfortable with my body,
Just to make me feel like I'm worth something,
Like I really am good enough.

So, I watch this girl,
And I envy her,
And she envies me,
As we walk the halls.

This tear falls,
Leaving a trace,
Leaving a scar,
On my weary face.

What's done is done,
Now, you can't go back,
Inside, where my heart was,
Now it's black.

All this destruction,
Was caused by you,
The damage was assessed,
And it needs more than glue.

You can't cover it,
Not even with a bandaid,
Nothing can hide the harm,
Of this heart-breaking blade.

The wound merely grows,
As the days pass by,
So, now would be a good time,
To say goodbye.

When I look down,
I'm not who I want to be,
I stand in the mirror,
And it's not me I see.

I want to be beautiful,
I want to be slimmer,
I want to be comfortable,
I want to be thinner,

I'm not perfect,
But I'm gradually healing,
It will take a while,
Because it's a new feeling.

I'll be in it,
Until the end,
And when I get there,
No longer will I pretend.

I will be okay,
I will be fine,
And my body,
Will finally be mine.

The metal hanging from my wrists,
And the steel clutching my ankles,
The chains weighing me down.

The chains not allowing me to move,
Or eat, or drink, or breathe,
The chains that stop me,
In my tracks,
Simply to listen,
To give in.

The chains of depression,
Dragging me into the depths,
The darkness that lays below,
These chains are the problem.

Will I ever escape them?
Will I ever find a way out?
Will I ever be free?
Was I ever free?
How am I supposed to know?

The chains that cling onto my limbs,
Are the chains we all dread,
We all despise,
We all don't want in our lives.

But hey, I was lucky enough to get them.

Everyone needs a helping hand,
To band as one,
To fight not run,
To have some fun,
And to help lift the tonne.

A hand to hold,
When it's getting cold,
When you need to be told,
That you are the gold.

It'll be there for you,
When you're feeling blue,
To give you something to do,
And something to look forward to,
But you've no clue,
As to why they stay with you.

As to why they help you through,
Your life that is a devilish stew,
But they make you feel as good as new,
Get you out of that horrid zoo,
Make you want to get back with the crew,
All because of this hand, who knew?

The questions grew and grew,
The theories starting to brew,
Why was this hand helping you?

Well, that's easy,
Because they care,
So, if you ever need a helping hand,
Know that there's at least one in this land.

I see the stars,
Shimmer and shine,
Glinting on the dark night sky,
As if they are all mine.

I make a wish,
Begging it to come true,
And that wish is...
Well, I can't tell you.

It's a secret,
Like most of my life,
A secret that can't be stolen,
With a sharpened knife.

But I know as a fact,
That the wish won't come true,
I secretly know that,
Another secret, with nothing to do.

I waited patiently,
On the park bench,
He was ten minutes late,
The minutes ticked by.

Twenty,
Thirty,
Forty,
He wasn't coming.

But I still waited,
With hope.

He never came,
I'm still waiting.

Youth,
As I watch the children,
Playing and laughing,
I wonder what my life would be like,
If I had that opportunity.

Youth,
As I watch the children,
Smiling and hugging their parents,
I wonder what my life would be like,
If my parents had cared for me.

Youth,
As I watch the children,
Riding their bikes around the park,
I wonder what my life would be like,
If we had that kind of money.

Youth,
I wish mine was more like theirs'.

You miss a meal,
Then it turns to two,
A day passes,
And no one notices you.

Craving nutrition,
There goes a week,
Those many hours,
Longing for something to eat.

Using the same excuse,
"I'm not hungry, I just ate,"
The numbers keep dropping,
Was sixty-three, now fifty-eight.

You can't go back,
People are noticing you,
They say you should eat, and you say,
"You have something better to do."

It's harder than you think,
Just leave me alone!
Stop telling me to eat and drink!
If I need you, I can find my phone.

I grew up thinking that,
People couldn't make you feel anything,
It was all self inflicted,
All your train of thought,
And the way you saw it.

You can let it slide,
Like water off a ducks' back,
Or you can let it get to you,
Let it circle your mind,
Ruining your self-image.

But now I know that,
What people say, can hurt,
Not only emotionally,
But physically,
Especially when it's a loved one.

Someone close to me recently said,
That all I did was stay at home,
Sleep, and write poetry.

That's all my life really was,
Three things,
Three aspects of my personality,
And the only three.

Life isn't always going to be sunny,
There will be a few cloudy days,
A few storms that will eventually pass,
And a few barriers that need to be broken.

People can't make you feel something,
But they sure can influence it,
Not everyone would agree,
But isn't that what an opinion is?

I'm more than three things,
I am human,
I am important,
And so are you.

The good old days,
Where there was no school,
No work,
No worry.

The days where all we did,
Was play,
Have fun,
And live in the moment.

But now,
Now life feels cramped,
Full.

Now we're living in the future,
In the past,
Never in the present,
Never enjoying the moment.

Now we don't have enough time,
Never enough,
No time for anyone,
Or anything.

Just work,
Work,
Work,
And more work.

I want to go back,
To the good old days,
Where there wasn't,
A care in the world.

Locked away,
For no one to find,
Is that special place.

The place I hide,
My deepest treasures,
My best moments,
My fondest memories.

The place I go to,
When I need,
Something to do,
Or when I need,
To be cheered up.

The place I engulf myself in,
For hours on end,
The place where I feel,
Truly safe.

Where I hide,
Is the place in my heart.