Imagine a scene
Tiny me, at the age of nine
Understanding I don't wish to live.
I tried to commit suicide
For the next 4 years time.
Picture a girl
Near genius; she's bright.
For some reason staying up
Crying all night.
Not doing well in school
Nobody thinks she's cool
And my dad just says
"Quit acting like a baby, you fool."
In my high school years
I just accepted sadness
As a part of my life.
Grew too tired of the
"why aren't you all right?"
and the occasional
"you're too smart to be acting that way"
Create in your head
Me, who is passionate
About poetry. Only because
It became my method of venting.
For some reason i thought
I was a burden, to all of my friends.
Better sad than disturb them
With my troubles.
It's the mess my room is
And the disintrest to everything
The self hate, sleeping late, and fatigue
That makes up the depression in me.
It's nobody understanding why I cry
Or why I don't take the time
To talk about my problems.
It's the not knowing myself
And looking at my reflection in the mirror
Only to say to her
"You're so ******* pathetic."