Disgust toward the police.
Disgust toward the school system.
Disgust toward the students.
Disgust toward the government.
Disgust toward the citizens.
Disgust toward my family.
Disgust toward myself.
Disgust toward the ACT.
Disgust toward state tests.
Disgust toward society.
Disgust toward impossible standards.
Disgust toward the hypocritical people.
Disgusted by the violence.
Disgusted by the killing.
Disgusted by the inequality.
Disgust toward this nation.
Disgusted by how we treat each other.

I wish you could tell.
When you look in my eyes
They are screaming for help.
My eyes tell the story that I-
Can never tell.
I wish you could see the sadness they possess-
My late nights-
And tear stained heart.
They need you to come back
But all you see
Is me faking happiness.
You see what everyone sees-
And its not real.

Dear Society,
You **** the life out of me. I can't live up to your impossible standards. I can't be pretty, skinny, athletic, smart, outgoing, and carefree all at one once. I don't wear a size 00. I'm not under 100 lbs. I mess up and I will never live up to what you want me to be. I don;t have perfect skin and hair. I don't wear the latest trends nor do I spend three hours getting dressed. I eat pizza on the weekends and have High School Musical marathons. I cry and get mad. I forget to study and fail tests here and there. I wear my favorite camp shirt all the time. I do me, not you. I will set my standards, not follow yours. I will acknowledge beauty in everyone despite their race or size. I am me and you don't own me anymore.
From,
Me

There was a girl.
A girl I once  knew
who never felt cold.
Never felt cold when
taking a shower in
freezing water.
Never felt cold
when she would stand
at the bus stop in 6
degree weather with barely
anything on. Never felt
the slightest bit of cold
even when she layed down
in the snow for 5 hours.
In fact, she loved the cold.
She embraced it; she loved how
cold the winter was in
Michigan. She loved feeling
the icy wind hit her face and
body when she wasn't wearing
much. She loved the
way it made her hands and face feel
anesthetic . It made her feel alive, refreshed
even, and
that’s all she ever craved for.
But she still never
felt how cold it actually was.
But why?
Why did she love
it that much?
Why couldn't she ever
feel frigid like everyone else?
Why love something,
something  you cant really feel?
Because even though she couldn't
feel how shivery cold
it was on the outside,
maybe that’s how her heart
was. Maybe that’s how
she felt on the inside.
**Numbing cold.

I'm tired of being alive
I'm tired of not wanting to be alive
I'm tired of having responsibilities
I'm tired of pretending like everything is okay
I'm tired of going to a house that 'im suppose to call my “home ” but it’s not that at all
Its a roof over my head to keep me warm but not to keep me sane
I'm insane
I'm tired of thinking i'm insane
I'm tired of arguing
I'm tired of having to put in headphones to block out the world
I'm tired of living in a world where money is the number one priority because without money you have nothing
I'm tired of the world
i'm tired of writing about my feelings
I'm tired of hiding my feelings
I'm tired of feelings
I'm tired of thinking
I'm tired of breathing
I'm tired of being tired ..

-n.a.