Dear Mom,
I just wanted to let you know,
That I’m not ok.
I’m not happy or peppy,
Like any other teen should.
I don’t like life anymore,
And I question why we even exist.
I’m not the toddler anymore,
I’m the teen with problems.
Every time you ask me,
‘What’s on your mind?’
‘Why do you have a pissy face on?’
‘You look unhappy, what are you thinking?’
And all those times,
I just answered ‘Nothing.’
Then comes a sea of comments like:
‘There has to be something.’
‘Something has to be making you mad.’
‘Hmmph.’
If you haven’t noticed,
I didn’t want you inside my head.
Because if you were,
You would be mad at me.
All my thoughts are gut-wrenching,
And images of my own personal pain.
Sometimes you ask:
‘What’s wrong?’
What’s wrong?
Me. You. The world. Everything.
Then you question my movements:
‘Why do you cross your arms across your chest?’
Because I’m trying to hold myself together,
And I’m trying not to have an outburst.
But if I told you that;
You would never look at me the same.
And when your done reading this poem,
You’ll probably try to comfort me.
I don’t want your pity or your sorrow,
Just leave me alone.
Don’t interfere in my life,
You only make it worse.
Let me writhe in my pain,
And let me fade away.
I’m not blaming this
completely on you,
But for part of it I am.
When I did tell you the truth one time,
To all those questions,
You looked at me funny,
And said, ‘I know what your going through.’
And that’s when all my feelings broke lose.
You don’t know what I’m going through,
Sure your four decades old,
I’m only fourteen, so what?
I have experienced different things.
Not everyone’s lives growing up are the same,
So yours is nothing like mine.
Your not in the midst of it,
And in a hating world.
So, finally I just want to say,
I’m not alright.
All those smiles were fake,
All my happiness is gone,
And I’m dyeing inside,
Scratch that, I’m already dead.
From,
Your Suffering Daughter.
