Parents bury their children,
Children bury all they have left,
And I'm sitting here crying over a boy
Who lied when he said he loved me.

Crying would be the wrong word,
Fuming would be better.


Men go to war,
Watch their friends being torn
Limb from ******* limb
By other humans,
And this is supposed to be
A civilized society?

It isn't.

And I'm sitting here,
Groaning and whining over the fact
That I can't stop vomiting,
And that the room won't stop spinning.

Little kids freeze to death
Because they have to sleep in their parents cars
In the middle of winter
Because their parents can't afford a home
And the shelters are full.

While I sit here and type out a poem
About how ******* rough my life has been.

I struggle with not being able to tell
If Right brain or Left brain is in charge,
And depending,
Which gender I would prefer to be referred to as.

I struggle with seeing colors constantly,
In and with everything,
To the point of sensory over load.
But some people never get to see color at all.
They don't even get to know anything more than darkness,
And even then, they don't know the difference.

Some people cry because the person that likes them isn't the right one,
And now they're left alone.
Some people rip their skin apart because
The person who touched them didn't ask permission.

I know.
I've been there.

But it's all trivial,
Isn't it?
Because there's always something worse.
Because if it's not happening to you,
It's not that bad.

Right?

Don't call me trivial, again, darling.
You wouldn't ever want to be where I've been.
I've been to hell and back.

So please, darling,
Fear me when I look into a fire and smile.