Words have no meaning
And yet nor do sounds
These letters have no feeling
When I write them down
My pen is a tool
And yet I feel like no creator
I simply copy words down like a common fool
These thoughts are no straighter
Than a forest of weeds
They are burning inside me
But I cannot simply feed
Them out onto paper. You see,
I don’t know what all these thoughts even mean;
They are spoken in a language that has never been seen
So I write and I write and yet I still do not understand
How to lead them out by the hand,
Into the world for you all to read.
Now leave me alone, for it is more than just words on a page that I need.

The only question I really want answered
Is as simple as a white wall.
I suppose it is exactly like a white wall;
Open to interpretation,
Masked by paints and graffiti
Yet still just the same, blank wall as before.
My question, you ask. What is it?
Well, it should be straightforward but there are no answers
As of yet.
My question:
Where do we go when we die?

Greeting and salutations!
Our esteemed guests are here.
To fight their imaginations
And give in to the fear.

Welcome!
Make yourselves at home
We hope you enjoy yourselves
And make it through the night.

One word
Is all
I need
From you.
One word,
Then I
Will go,
Will disappear,
And that
I promise

You mess me around
As if I am clay
Easily moldable
To your cold hands
But I am not clay.

You push me around
As if I am a joke
Laughed at
By your friends
But I am no joke.

You slap me and kick me
As if I am solid
But I will break
Just like glass
I am not that strong.

When you bully me,
When you hurt me,
It does more than just
Shatter my bones;
It shatters my heart

Because I still remember
Those days when we were
Friends,
Those days when we laughed
Together,
Those days when we made fun of
Others.

So when you push me around
As if I am a doll,
The betrayal
Stings more
Than the physical bruises.

I am but thirteen years old and yet
I feel as though I am older

I write, I read, I play, I laugh
All things that a child of my age should

And yet somehow I feel as though
There is more inside that I need to let go
I read these poems, row by row
But these writers shall never know
That I have looked up to them since long ago

I am young, I am smart
Therefore there is not much I can change into art

I'm a teenager, I'm at school
So on this site I feel like a fool

Right now, I don't have much to say
But maybe I will some other day
So please wait for the moment that I say 'Hey!
Here's something I can write about that won't just fade away.'

I know you.
And so I know that you are not from here.
And that you want to go back to wherever you came from.
But you won't admit it - to me or to the world -
Because you are afraid:
Afraid of being rejected by that place and then
Having nowhere to go.
You can't believe that any longer;
if you continue this belief, you'll get nowhere.
And eventually this world will realise that you don't
Belong here and banish you anyway.
So don't keep lying
Because I can't be bothered
With this anymore either.
Good day to you.
And I hope you make up your mind
For it won't be long
Until...well
Do I really have to tell you?