what is wrong with society?

children are crying.
teens are dying.
drug overdoses, suicides.
they cant make up their minds.

smoking dope
they have no hope.

knives are no longer used for food,
now used as  an escape from your mood

dudes are getting nudes.
girls are getting exposed,
there getting called hoes.

she's 8 and crying,
her sisters upstairs dying
not physically but mentally

bullies, insecurities.
all caused by what?
society.
you can be hated, sedated
depressed , stressed, or even  messed.

but in society,
you're only accepted if your well dressed, pretty,
powerful, or successful.

no one will ever care unless you're pretty or dead .
and that's the truth everything that must be said has been said and done.
-psm

Alone again
Another sleepless night
Alone like always
Not completely at least
My only friend sits in front of me
My last hope
It's cold metallic touch soothing
The taste of steel so calming
Squeeze never pull
And I'm gone
Just like that
Not a soul to remember
Not a person to miss me
I'm just another statistic now
I'm just another stain on society now

why must you stress me, soceity?
not thin enough,
not hot enough,
not... enough
you force me into a mould,
one my spirit just can't hold,
and expect me to go down quietly.
and, to that, i say NO!
i will not go,
will not let society get the best of me.

7-year-old me began elementary
i was not an equation you can solve
i did not play
i did not complain
instead i read and studied

10-year-old me started fourth grade
i was not an equation you can solve
i did not have sleepovers
i did not live in a fairytale
instead i observed

13-year-old me hit puberty
i was not an equation you can solve
i did not cry
i did not scream
instead i hid my dreams

15-year-old me is facing highschool
i am not an equation you can solve
i am not making excuses
i am not sensitive
instead i am wishing

i am wishing for society to stop making life into an equation
i am wishing for society to stop telling me to go to college at 18
i am wishing for society to stop telling me to get married before 30
i am wishing for soceity to stop making me into a person i am not ready for
i am wishing for soceity to stop making fun of me because i am different

i am who i am
i grow at my own pace
time does stop and wait for the world to grow up
so how come time can't stop and wait for me to grow up?

what happened to freedom? what happened to joy and happiness? do they deserve to be taken out of the equation because they value less than success?

what happened to me? am i allowing people to enforce this equation on me? on everyone else?

you don't quite fit
slightly askew
yet, relatable.

I see You.
A person revealing herself to a soceity of weak wolves
You are curious; a truth-seeker
asking questions that make others squirm
You have a deep desire to connect through expression
a need to be seen
You wish for transparcy paired with acceptance
You want to tear yourself open and scream "Look!"
"This is Me! Please, see Me!"
"In all my beauty and in all my ugliness. This, is, Me. Unfiltered. Naked"
"Please, please accept me."
I know this because it is
Relatable.

Relatable. The only way you would know this
is if I told you.
For I have found a way to blend in with the wolves.
I hide behind a careful wall built of cloth and filth.
You can only see Me when and where I allow it.

My face is usually in plain view, for society has told me this is OK.
(Ironic that is my only bit of skin that can change expression, unwillingly)

My other skin is hidden by clothe that I willingly bear.
A winter coat and gloves for the environment unknown.
(possibly hostile. it's better not to risk exposure)
A T-shirt and jeans for the familar
(stragically covering vunerabilities)
A bathing suite only for the most trusted

And naked? Rarely do I allow this, even around myself.
Because when I am naked all I see is the bruises from past abuses.
When I opened myself up and was rejected
Rejected by society and myself.

All the bruises bring me to bear cloth
But I will sincrely root for those who walk around
Naked.

I was told that when you point the finger at someone else, then 3 are pointing back at you. At first I thought this was a clever phrase used by an otherwise defensive person deflecting unwanted criticism from themselves, until the pride crushing wisdom behind this statement riddled my self perception with humbled point bullets one after one. Harsh realities never forewarned the ignorance I had in me, thinking the world was how Id imagine it be. But I realized the truth and revelation of my Father's Words goes ever deeper than the 1st time I've read or heard, without the full understanding or comprehending of what was told that holds a greater weight than an unregenerate soceity knows and even though there is much I do know, what I don't know, is so much more. So why am I trying so hard to be understood when the advantage is in those who understand? What I understand is that the desires of this temporary flesh wrapped around me has no regard for the condition of my eternal soul. What I understand is envy becomes a battle against my spirit man at times when I see a beautiful couple. I’d be lying if I said The sight still didn’t sometimes sting me with a painful reminder of what my feelings keep telling me I’m still missing.

Who is the true enemy to soceity

and where are they hiding

at what point has the fight
for the freedom of speech,
derive itself from:
having to invite more
joke, and less dialectics,
by passing diacritical
regards...
how many more times
will this, couch-outlet
of a formerl repressed,
medium of the masses,
dictate to me,
that...
             no...
  i din't like plagiarising
foreign cultures..
   hans zimmer
can do his ****...
     spectres in the fog...
but
i get to do my ****,
via
krzesimir dębski:
the hussars' death...
i could have written:
                the hussars die...
now, every time i go back
to Poland,
i have to succumb toward
an expectation,
a facade,
  a...
  oh, you know,
back in in England?
  no problems.
  do i ******* look stupid?
this base-*******
of shim-sham-shimmy:
quick, hide the problems,
let's all look
like a ******* postcard
gimmick...
it's killing me!
to obtain the posession
of owning a heart,
one must first
express the capacity
for uninhibited pride...
which, post-colonial
societies
fail do teach,
their kin...
             savvy?
   i've lived in england
for a better part of two centuries...
first were the irish...
then were the scots...
i might have
expected to seek-out
more english people...
but then...
  i never managed
to mingle with the welsh...
but hardly the english...
it's like...
they were "there": i.e. england,
but they were never "there":
and there's no i.e.
so support that statement...
that the asiatic people
are only smart
as far as their plagiarißm
allows them to be?
so... what's new?
   i guess the last step
of integration would
be to bang some english lass...
oddly enough:
  'ard to find...
   she's having an prgy-fetish
with her
    afro-saxon
****-buddy...
and all i'm doing
is... sweeping
the remnants of letters...
which could have
been words...
but were decided upon
as being, merely remnants
of text: C U L8ER...

it's not even hierogylphics,
rosetta stone...
pyramids...
it's ******* stone-age
crass...
   bone arithmetic of
Muhammad
  (yeah... apparently
he knew the exact number
of bones, in a human body)...
bone arithmetic dodo:
do this: me
reads: |||,|||,||||, |||
no chance that's ever
going to be a rigid
example of:

             Y H W H

so let's revise
   hand-writting
   to pixel: punch-dot?
how's that?
  too dumb, i guess...

no... i can't read
the Chinese phonetic encoding...
but seeing it's so complex,
and the translation
results are so base?

sure... they're smart...
they're smart by
having to plagiariße,
but i'm sure the arabs
will defend them,
by importing more
Bang-Lang-Desh-E
"tourists" over...

       you want to know what
i think?
  no, you don't,
but this rant,
alongside:
      was already over
to begin with...
   drunk, peasant...

you know... when you deviate
from the male, female,
consonant, vowel
instigators of rubric?
when... simple arithmetic,
match-sticks...
ascribed to letters.
does not work?

what do you have?
||: T
W: ||||
R: |||                      (i'm talking,
             bending the rules,
revising the existence of
handwritting)
   Y: |||
O: |
P: ||
H: |||
J: |
Z: |||
            K: |||
  L: ||
   X: ||
           N: |||
   M: ||||
   V: ||
   B: |||
   C: |
        G: ||
   D: ||
S: |
            F: |||
    P: ||
U: |
E: ||||
                       Q: ||
               A: |||
i missed a letter,
i missed a letter...
  but having forgotten...
what... my script,
in print, looks like,
"one-sided"...
of a pen, held,
by my right hand...
to a piece of paper...
and instead...
a mind...
orientated by both
hands being in synch.?
well...
           chess and
counting matchsticks...
expecting
no fire to errupt
in, less a home,
      and more: the soceity.

Whenever I read the News.
I just close my eyes.

Whenever I go back in Time.
I just close my eyes.

When I have to pay back to Soceity
I just close my eyes.

When I think about you
I just close my eyes.