You keep telling me things that I know
But what if you were in my place?
Being unable to stand
The look of your own face?

Can't trust thoughts anymore,
Myself, a living disgrace?

School is all that matters,
Not anymore education,
I speak to you, what you tell me to do
You say its "frustration."

Ignoring, abusing, overusing, shutting down my body systems-
People are so hard to please,

Don't know accurate name for my behaviours,
Just call it "Disease"

Being a misfit,
I try to be you,
You don't know I've been suicidal
Since my second *Grade 2

I don't ussually ask for much
But when I do
Apparently it is to great
For you to do?

Apologies for I, disappointment.
Please, I don't ask for sympathy
You may not believe, but,
I do not cry deliberately.

honestly, I TRUELY naturally forget
I don't know how to communicate with spoken words, yet.
When I do, they are usually lies
So my only way , throu poetry, I write.

When you ask what's going on,
Honestly, I can't recall
Without my poems and songs, about me,
No one would know much at all.

Been this way ever sine in Haiti
What I call "Disease"
Is an extended, ongoing culture and reverse-culture shock, maybe?