#pickyourselfup
Your birth, upon you
Your circumstance, unaware
Love, you didn’t know how
Your needs, all that you care
Questions, which ones to ask?
Direction, ambition or chance?
Life, meaningless or necessary?
Dreams, nightmares or fantasies?
Shadows, yours or someone else’s?
Walls, inside or outside?
Yesterday, regret or forget?
Tomorrow, hope or worry?
Today, cherish or squander?
Prayer, delusion or faith?
Reality, accept, deny or change?
Pain, inflicted or absorbed?
Love, to live or to die for?
Answers, to live with or without?
The time to decide is inside your clock
It cannot tell you when
It only tells you to begin
But are you still a baby as helpless as then?
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
before grade six,
when I entered junior high,
witch felt like junior low,
as it was truly the smallest formation of this lowness they try to hid underneath this word "high",
like high school is alright if you get high enough to get though the rough times,
or maybe I still didn't understand the difference between these words,
the words that hurt like he hit with a closed fist but I was lucky to only get open ones,
to feeling like someone spiked my lunch milk because these definitions make no sense, and my brain is trying so hard to grasp so many terms at once it feels as if its tripping on acid,
but no.
its just distracted,
showing me being a foll of myself again and again,
a repeated playlist of all my mistakes,
of me tripping up.
thats about as far and close to acid as ill get.
but what hurts the most is english,
this first language ******** that the tried to wrap around my mind,
but at the same time I finally learned my first english lesson,
I was in grade six,
I learned a french lesson the class before.
and each and every day I had to work to learn the things,
others were allowed to learn before me,
because teachers and school systems stole my education from me,
were I only even remember sitting in english class once because we had a sub, and I learned cursive on the first day in grade three,
but couldn't spell my name yet,
and the mess I was got messyer as I tried to commit the ink to the paper,
where it made me cry because I knew for a fact I was stupid,
and teachers who still wanted to say I was fine and not help me had the decency to say I was smart,
when they were the reasons I could not succeed.
now letters,
and the alphabet,
had no rules,
why to this day I still have not mastered spelling and cursive,
the basic reading skills you'd expect from someone my age.
im 16 and I was 6 when I could divide and multiple,
by hundreds,
thousands by the start of first grade,
the only type of math,
that made no mathematical sense,
where the ******* how'd you get your anwser questions.
being older now,
I fight back writing
look at my ******* work you stupid *****
so I simply draw an arrow and don't get the credit,
and I leave word problems blank.
and even with doing that,
I had to of gotten everything right,
for them to wanna push me a head a grade level,
because of math,
every single ******* year oh she could go up a grade!
and then my
reading and writing scores said I should repeat a grade,
and they just left me where I was,
see math is the gate way for me,
it was my only thing I felt good about I didnt know what else to call that,
math in my heart of hearts saved my life,
its the only reason I learned any bit of english,
enough to keep up my fight,
its the only reason I belived in myself,
because with math you just have to try,
and you have to try to solve your problems,
instead of writing about them like I'm doing down,
i'm crying while im writing
because they don't see how much they hurt me now.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
yeah it hurts
but so does birth
and look, you're here
that's not a first
moms and dads
work hard to make
people who help
make this world great
s.q.
.
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 7:26 PM UTC