i am a daughter
from a father that wants to control me
and a mother who tries to be the best she can be

she wants me to be like her
and no one else
can tell me anything

i want to leave this protection
and go to a place
different from all the places
ive visited
in my life

i have gone to many places
europe, canada,latin america
but no place has ehat i need

i would like to find a place
that lets me read that i want
talk how i want
listen to what i want
eat what i want
see who i want

with no one telling me anything
and that they leave me at peace

but after some time
i will find myself sad
for wanting to be loved

and like i wasnt at home
for soo long
everyone hugged me as if
i never left the house

You may feel
Sad
And want to
Cry

But it wasn't yours
you have no right

If they choose
to not greive

you cant judge
for it was some

others loss

Body
Tired to walk
Collapse at any
Moment

Nose
Red from irritation
A cascade of badness
Coming out of
It

It will hopefully
End soon

But your body
Will still be
Weak

From fighting
Itself and Invaders

We bond on the
Way
And we become
Friends

Next day
I feel glad that
I met someone that
Understand
Accepts
Me

I ignore my actual friends
To hang out with the
People I think
Get me

When really
The last day we
Meet
You treat me like an
Outsider

And we go back
To before

No talk
No text
No meeting

Just exclusion

Home
where you Belong
with everyone!

but you still Refuse
to Apolagize
to your Birthgiver

I know That I
Can fix this
Even if I
get into Trouble

Happy
To finally have someone
That understands me

After being around people
who could care less
About me

To them I'm just someone to entertain
While to you
I actually mean something

Tom walked to the door slowly, his heart heavy and his mind hesitant. He knew who would be there, and he knew why. For fifteen years she had been stopping by his apartment, and every time the enjoyed their evening together. Today, though, was different. Today, he would go back to the part of his mind where she would only exist as a happy memory. Tom was acting. He would move on. He would let go.
     Tom approached the door. He heard the familiar knocking. The knocking that no one could hear but him. At the same time, another knocking that no one could hear was getting louder in Tom's ears. The knocking of Tom's  broken heart, echoing the knocking on the door, the door Tom stood before now. He grasped the ****. The doorknob was oddly cold to Tom's hand; ordinarily Tom would explain to anyone listening that the doorknob was exactly the same as always, and that it only felt cold because Tom's hands were hot and sweaty, but now Tom only stared out the doorknob and took a deep breath.