Everything I’m writing is a waste of time .
Tell me ,
What will this change ?
How will this eliminate that pain in my chest ?
Explain how writing my thoughts out can possibly help me .
Because these words feel useless .
Half filled water balloons
but instead of water
it’s fire .
Throwing fire balloons
Yet I live in a wooden shed .
None of this makes any sense .

These words feel like they’re burning a hole
In this poem
And not one you’re likely to remember .
Something insignificant .
Something only a grain of sand could fall through .
Tell me ,
How can someone as unimportant as me
Truly be heard ?
I speak when spoken to
And sometimes I speak just because .
But instead of a voice , all you hear are squeaks.
Unused to truly vocalizing what’s important to me
Because every time I used to try to speak my piece ,
They muted me .
How can I speak
If my problems don’t mean
A **** thing .
I talk about me to me
So much yet I don’t care about me .
So , my problems ?
They mean less to me than me .