You're too young
You don't need the stress of knowing
How about the stress of not knowing
You expect me to be fine
Not knowing if my little sister is coming back
You expect me not to be *******
Not knowing if I'm staying
You expect me not to be scared
Not knowing what happened to my brother
You expect me to trust you
Not knowing who to believe
You put words in my mouth
Not knowing what to say
This situation
Is frustrating as ****
And you expect me to be okay
Well news flash


im not okay.

Hello all my wonderful friends and talented poets, I am seeking advice on the following poem. I find it challenging to edit. Thank you all, for your help in advance.


Lost, and no one is searching.
Not for me,
                   definitely not,
I'm just an "Orphan", and so you seem to see.

I'm scared of the upcoming events.
I'm at a loss for words that are heavy—lead...
Leaflet
of page flips,
a collection of what I can't prevent.
I, it's my expense.
~
I, I bend until I break because of things like this.
No one gets it,
No one will ever get this.
People I live with,
Say that I just need to "believe in myself, and be positive",
Again,
They don't get it.

I just write a lot; I just write...
I have a lot on my mind.
I hate the idea of moving.

The sight,
of a suitcase makes me go blind.

I wish I could spill my eyes
~ like ink ~
There are words I need to write, words have become a monster in my life, crawling up my spine, like waves, ebb, and flow - walls of wakes. I'm drowning in this lake, the weight pressed against me—the cracked skull, and my peeling
mind,
Nothing feels right,
they're all I can think
~ of, words, words enough to make me sink.
Into my hollow chest deep,
and empty.
But inside
my lungs find
a return together, and my diaphragm
fighting—like the closing mouth of a dying-clam.

So far away,
To a University
and Dorm-room stay,
I'm quite a fog, no definition-no importance—I fade
In the grey.
I fade away, every **** day.
Take it all away?
Silly me...
"No, stop being negative", they will say.

It feels like another Foster home,
I just want to go,
disappear - collapse into the undergrowth.
But inside I've never been so low.
Famished, insatiable, and ravenous, the beast still grows.
Chewing through what I've created for you,
To -
Just cut my tongue, and slice my toes
trying to hold.
On to the walls as they slip from my fingertips,
I fold.
Into my brain - filled with holes.
Into myself, a mystery—a candle melting without a flame, a game, that gets dull, and so old.
I've lost again, on this, I've been,
'Ashton' without
a doubt,
My words, I know -
My words know,
no woe.
Losing your interest, I'm only a muddled groan.
A man who is such a child, has to find a way to become grown.

I've no certainty,
Certainly, I cannot keep...
What I cannot see,
I cannot see where I'll be,
Who'll stay? Nobody?
Who would want to stay in my life?
No one needs to say that I,
have become a joke,
and as I choke, I know,
I'm not funny...
~
Nobody?
Not even me.

Hey,
I guess it's okay?
They don't stay.
It's always been the same.
My mind's leaving me.
Nothing will ever change.
All my life, I've been drifting, deranged. Slowly, I fear that I may
never find a refrain ~
That I'll love to be in this state
of mind, so insane.
—They never really did, and slowly,
Through my fingers, they...
Slipped.
Away.
From me,
and my weak grip, white knuckles behind the bleed.
- I wouldn't lie, I tried -
everything...
but it was my weakness that gripped
so I slipped'
like they did.

I guess,
I'm just going to have to get used to this.

I swear, I've been,
Lost, now I'm even more lost when
...I'm searching.
I'm looking
From outside of myself—in.

My ribs open,
I'm an open book, but now, I'm a loose-leaf—dropped with a pen,
~
I, to not be picked up again.

My skin is paper thin,
Go ahead take a look right in?

See what's really inside of me?
That my heart is just too big, to bear its own beat.
Maybe -
Maybe - my wounds will bring you to me?

I have so much love to give,
I cannot keep it contained within.

My heart is exploding,
and I know it...
This life is no longer mine to live.

Why do I feel like this?
Everything is going great, it is.
Yet something is amiss,
I'm reckless, I try, and end up defective.

I feel like I am obsolete.
           and when I fall asleep,
                           I don't even want to dream.
Thinking about more than I can think.
I've been getting better at buying,
The lies between
the pages of a book without a spine - me,
getting better at hiding
that I, I'm just, weak,
I'm obsolete.
Hung up by the seams,
~
A nail in the wall holding me.
A puppet without strings,
The nail has a name, 'PTSD'.
Hang me in the hall,
Watch me drop down, and fall
~
On my face in the heat,
Watch my colors-fade-to-grey
as they blend in the bleed.

A painting of melting color, that drips, and drips,
No worth, I'm worthless...

I'm just that foster kid from the streets.
The one that no one needs,
I don't want to be,
Believe me,
I woke up, and don't want to be me,
I just want to be free.

By: Ash

You clipped my wings
For years.
Subduing me through medications
That now I take to help me.

You clipped my wings,
And for what?
To watch a downward spiral
Of regret and turmoil,
And you'll never be proud of me
Unless I turn out just like you.

You clipped my wings,
But I've grown brand new feathers:
I'm flying and I'm soaring.
This life I have just proves
That your judgment and scorn is boring.

You used to clip my wings,
But you don't have a hold on me anymore,
And I know it's driving you absolutely mad
Watching me soar.

You used to clip my wings,
And I'm so glad that you're not in charge,
Because this is my life,
And I know that drives you crazy.

You used to
And still are trying to
Clip my wings.
But you can't,
I won't let you.
I'm just who I have to be.

You can't clip my wings anymore.

It's time to let birds of a feather
Flock together.

At age five Lincoln was taken from his single mom, who would hit him constantly, and put into a foster home that already contained 4 other boys, all older then himself. He was so frightened; Lincoln had spent all of his life up until this point alone, in isolation and fear. While this new home eliminated the isolation he still spent most of his waking hours in tears. There were many people surrounding him but no one to trust. He had “parents” who only wanted his welfare check, “brothers” who only wanted him as a punching bag, and a social worker who only saw him as another lost soul amongst thousands.
By age 12, Lincoln had been in 6 different homes, all the same as the last. His first had taught him to be afraid, his second had taught him not to trust, his fourth had taught him to run, and his fifth had taught him to fight. He learned that some things are good to be true in his sixth home. He had the perfect family, a loving mom and dad who actually cared about him, but then everything changed. His new “dad” lost his job, and everything fell apart, stress tearing apart a couple and Lincoln being shipped off to yet another new place.
He was thirteen and living in a group home for boys. He felt the push of pressure and loneliness, and found a love for the taste of alcohol and craved the dullness it brought him.  Lincoln was bullied constantly and certainly fought back, he had learned from his first mother the ability to use his fists to let out some of the anger, the rage that wouldn’t go away.
Soon, the aggression building in Lincoln would prove to be too much for the system and he would be cast away, labeled as “hopeless” and sent to a juvenile center to be away from the “socially acceptable” people.
Only sixteen now, and already Lincoln had built a criminal record. Years of low self-esteem and insecurity leading to a life of substance abuse and ****** knuckles. No one looked at him and said “Now, there’s a good kid.”, but instead mothers quickly hushed their children asking “Why is his face bleeding?” or judgmental looks at the tattoos crisscrossing and covering the scars he was to ashamed to let anyone see.
By eighteen, and out on the street, he wandered from place to place staring out with blank eyes, hoping that someone would look into his eyes and see all of the pain and maybe, rescue him, but all anyone ever saw was just a punk who should stop smoking  and just “get a job”, as if it were that easy. As if, anyone had ever taught him how to lead a life that didn’t end up in prison.
On Lincoln’s twenty-first birthday, there was no one around to celebrate, no one to smile, no one to care. He sat on a lonely bench wondering if his birth mother was somewhere out there knowing that today was his birthday, or if she was even alive. He thought about his father, thinking maybe he was leading some luxurious life not even knowing that he had a son out in the world, all alone. He held onto the hope that maybe if his father knew he existed that maybe he would care.
But inside he knew, he knew that noone cared, and no one ever would. No one would ever be concerned about the boy who never knew love.

Every morning I longed to be by my mother’s side.
She was kind and true.
As true as the facts anthropologists find to prove our human roots.
They say we evolved from monkeys and such.
I say there are always lies in between truths.
My mother promised to keep me safe.
She made my world a rainbow dune.

Her all-natural perfume gave me the ability to touch the sky.
Her rhythm and tune collided to bring out a pleasant triad.
I touched the blue and white with my bare hands.
No, I did not hesitate, for she was kind and true.
She gave me life and spirit too.
So easily, I assume.

Now all I see is a flooded platoon.
I was all too naïve to believe in the wicked disease.
My surroundings were made out of candies and sweets.
I am disgusted by her attempt to keep my life platonic and safe.
My mother manipulated my innocence without a care of the sea.
She had forgotten to introduce gangsters, and demons into my docile life.

I was only six when it happened.
My beautiful, heartwarming mother took her life.
She abandoned me to face the demons all too soon.
I was thrown into the streets and lived an uneventful life.
Lee found me lying on the street with tears streaming from both eyes.
The rest of my childhood was spent watching Lee slaughter innocent souls.

I saw too much from my own baby blue eyes.
There were screams and body parts rapidly falling from sight.
I knew all too well that Lee was my savior, so I tried to fit in as an alien might try.
Too soon did I become what my mother would never praise and I did not put an end.
As children, we are too weak and need guidance to live.
We mirror what we see, no matter how wrong it may be.

I needed the right soul to look after me.
I did not have that and so I fell into dark tunnels, you see.
I am not to blame, so why blame the innocent and not those at fault?
Those that walked right past me when I was only six could have helped.
They had the upper hand, I did not.
I never did, I was just a little innocent kid.

Remember me?
I'm the girl you sent away,
Cause you were afraid for your REAL children's safety!?
What happened to "You're our daughter now."?
Did I mean anything? I mean ****?!
And you!
Remember me?
I'm the girl you molested!
After you said I could call you Daddy!
*******
You knew EVERYTHING that happened to me as a kid,
You shoulda known it would **** me up more than I already am!
And you!
Remember me?
I'm the little girl you *****!
While you were beating my mom and me!
You were getting so high, you probably don't even remember me.
But ****! You remembered when your friends came over! So why not?
And you!
I'm the girl you gave birth to!
But you never gave a **** about!
You only cared whether you were sober or not,
Or if your supply was doing ok...
Do you know you have a son too?
Oh yea, you do... But like everything else in your life,
You scared him the **** away too!
So now I have to pay?
I've already given blood!
What more do you ******* want!?
Haven't I given enough???
I mean really,
I'm a big girl now,
And I'm still paying for your mistakes somehow...
But you couldn't care less,
Cause you got what you wanted...
Maybe child support,
Or just some ******* you started.
I Just gotta know,
Did it pay off for you?
You lost so much,
You almost lost me too.
I almost KILLED MYSELF.
BECAUSE OF YOU!
And now I'm going crazy,
I've lost **** too,
For starters, my virginity...
But that wasn't my choice.
But it's all gone now...
And I still don't have a voice.
Second, Blood
**** and lots of it.
I've bled and shed for you,
And you ******* love it.
Third, my mind.
******* thanks a lot.
It disappeared one day
while you were smoking ***.
Do you know what you did to me?
Can't you see?
What the **** is wrong with you?
CAN YOU ******* REMEMBER ME!?