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Hanna Kelley Jun 2015
At age 8* my teacher would ask me what I wanted to be when I grow up, so I told her a fashion model.
She laughed and wrote it on the board.

At age 9 I wanted to be a doctor along with half of my class.

At age 10 I wanted to be a teacher, they all told me it takes a lot of education and I would have to work hard in order to get there.

at age 11 I wanted to be an artist, they told me to pick something more realistic so I said a singer.
They said to stop playing games and choose a job.

at age 12 I was pretty hooked on the idea of a singer, so I sang
And I sang
And I sang
Until I believed that I was good enough to be famous.

at age 13 I was so confident about my singing
Until I heard their voices.
Most of the girls in my choir were reaching the high notes and their tones were so clear.
I gave up on that dream.
I knew I wouldn't be like them.
So I began poetry.
This was the year I wrote my first poem "nobody cares".
I showed it to a few really close friends and my sister.
They said it was really good, it got them emotionally and that was what I was aiming for.
At first the poem was about 2 pages long but I cut it shorter every time I showed it people because they told me what parts didn't make sense to them.
I took it as a way to improve my poem.
So then I started posting it on quotev, and tumblr, and now hellopoetry.
I wasn't expecting anybody to like it.
I continued poetry and now it comes to me so easily, I can write poems like I'm writing my own name.

at age 14 I told my teacher I wanted to be a poet and he told me that
"I needed to improve"
At age 14 I didn't know what I wanted to be.
Nothing was good enough
Nothing was realistic enough
Nobody gave me enough support to go with my dreams.
At age 14 I decided that I wanted multiple jobs.
I still haven't told anyone because I already know what they're going to say.
maxine May 2015
nothing i do will ever be good enough for you
Dōlō Mar 2015
I don't cry in tight corners
I don't sob when I'm alone
Instead, I think
Constantly ... Of everything

I think I have a gift
If I talk, no one listens
I'm the background
No on knows what it's like

I just go along, forcing myself
Being like others causes a disturbance
Instead, I think
Continuously ... Of everything

My thoughts are outlandish
They make sense to me
I keep thinking
Everyday ... Of everything.
I can feel it coming on again.
That feeling of hopelessness
It's in the back of my throat
My heart is aching
And the pain is starting to tell me
That I'm not good enough
Again.
That the reason he's not answering
Is because
He doesn't want me
How could he?
I'm not good enough.
That the reason my mom stopped talking to me is because she found someone better
And my dad stopped talking to me because I'm unimportant
He's got better things to worry about
The pain tells me that my parents neglect to invite me to family events because I'm no longer
a part of the family
I am not good enough.
I used to think I wasn't pretty
Enough for any guy
To ever love me
Now that's all they like me for
And I'm still not good enough.
So many things can trigger this pain and I'm sick of it
I'm sick of feeling like I'm not
Good enough because it isn't true
I am perfect just as you are.
Everyone is perfect because
There is no such thing.

I'm good enough for the boy
That won't reply to my texts
The one person that makes me
So happy
The one person I'm too weak
To stop caring for
I'm good enough for him.

I'm good enough for my mom
Who can't seem to find the time
To make a simple phone call
Or show me that's she still cares
I'm good enough for her.

I'm good enough for my dad
Who won't talk to me
Because he doesn't trust me
Even though I've given him
Absolutely no reason not to
I'm good enough for him.


I have to tell myself that it doesn't matter, but I do. I matter. My feelings matter and every tear I cry for these people isn't because of nothing.

I'm ******* good enough.
PrttyBrd Dec 2014
to be seen within
unknown eyes that feel like home
hearts wanting love
121214
AmberLynne Jul 2014
Your preference for her
     is all too clear
and becomes more obvious
     each time you turn
     away from me
     to seek her out.
I'm left behind, reeling
     from your silent insults,
breaths stuttering as I try
     to comprehend
     when I stopped
     being good enough.
I'm aware my poetry can come across quite bipolar. I find poems where I've left them all over my house and then add them here in bunches. So I'm not actually cycling trough moods as rapidly as it may seem ;p Also, despite it's seemingly romantic sadness, this poem was written about my boss and being passed up for projects lol
Johanne Jul 2014
you told me that
i wasn't good enough

and in the end
i believed you
this really *****, but whatever

— The End —