Cigarettes help me forget
The taste of your lips on mine

Now let's go back, back to reality we fell for each other but there was no gravity to hold us, but I caught you, held you tight with all my might even though we were crash landing, I loved the flight, I would do it all again start from the beginning where we were just friends
I would go through the all pain I endured when you walked away just for a moment in my arms where you would lay because time with you always took my breath away

It doesn't bother me that,
my parents are abusive.

It doesn't bother me that,
my poetry goes unnoticed.

It doesn't bother me that,
my friends think I'm psychotic.

It doesn't bother me that,
I'm the worst of both batches,
maternal and paternal.

It doesn't bother me that,
I have nothing left.

But the trees and the sky,
keep me alive long enough,
to get a perspective.

The pines whisper that in a few months,
I'll be released from their tyrant grasp.

The birds murmur that my poems,
are the best ******* words they can't understand.

And even the clouds,
grab me by my shoulders,
and thunder in my face,
that I have so much left to learn.

for seven years i believed that i had no right to say
that i had been abused because it wasn't physical,
like my friend who was beat by her drunk father on
a daily basis.

my abuse was only on an emotional, psychological scale
and while sometimes his hand slipped or gripped too tight on me,
i honestly wouldn't count it as abuse.

recently i began reading into this and while it's not
as talked about as physical or ****** abuse it still counts
and it carries over as children grow up from these experiences.

even experiences that i didn't think counted as emotional abuse,
from times when i was far younger than just a teenager.

the abuse i've dealt with hasn't made me any stronger than i was,
it's made me the exact opposite;
instead of being the person i was before, bright and optimistic,
i'm apologizing constantly for things i don't need to and
second guessing myself and others intentions.

constantly i wonder if i'm bothering someone,
am i being too much of myself? am i allowed to speak?
does my opinion matter? is it all right to assert myself?

after being told for three years that i don't matter,
and there is no point of me for existing and that
it's no wonder i don't have any friends,
i'm trying to break myself out of the box i've placed myself in
and it's so **** hard.

My teenage years flew by,
and not once have I experienced
the quintessential rebellion
that movies portray.
I've never smoked.
I've never drank.
I've never been to a real party.
I've never snuck out.
I've never kissed anyone.
My teenage years have been
uneventful,
and I'm not sure if I should be
grateful
or upset about it.