shattered hopes and broken dreams;
i've really had enough of these.

bring it on!
though, really, i'm just a fawn

so new and struggling to stand,
you should really give me a helping hand.

they help me lots, these words of hate.
they help me to create.

as i sit, i ponder what you said.
and it really gets into my head.

and now i sit here, pen in hand,
and am thankful, now i can stand.

although you didn't help (you hindered)
and though you left me feeling splintered,

i thank you, Dad, for those hurtful things you said.
i thank you, Dad, for the occasional smack on the head.

you've made me strong.

I just want to be known
I need to be heard
I just want people to remember my name
I'd love to make a difference
     in at least one person's life
I would like my words to resonate within
         at least one soul
I'd love for my rhymes to be the flow
    in which at least one heart beats
I need my life to mean something
I want my poetry to matter
        To anyone
          To  everyone
              To somebody
   To at least one single person

It* feels like a weight
on my chest
It feels like a pressure
on my brain
It feels like a lack
of oxygen
It feels like a knife
digging between my ribs
It feels like a hand
clenching my stomach
It feels like an aching
throughout my body
It feels like a vice
compressing my lungs.

but the thing is, i don't know what
It is.