I speak my mind,
And I'm rewarded with blank stares.
"You're too young to not feel fine!"
Yet I wake up every day to despair.

I feel my hands trembling.
I see their confusion.
They aren't understanding.
They yell at me to come back in unison.

I'm only Thirteen,
And I feel as if I have the weight of the world,
Weighing down on me.
Suffocating me, blocking out all my words.

I write with my blood,
I've watched my arms be drained,
They see my cuts,
And ask me how it happened.

They think I'm too young to feel pain,
But I have it in Spades.
I can't tell them how it happened, so I run into the rain,
Panting, exhausted, and lost, just looking for somewhere to stay.

They don't understand,
Your just a kid,
Are you mad?
Just because I'm young doesn't stop pain from digging a pit for me.

I crawl into the pit every time,
Knowing it's the only peace I'll ever have,
Even if it is discomforting.
They see me suffer in silence, with a confused look, they'll never understand such a young soul to be tormented like this.