A Lost Child

Location

I felt society's idea of "normal" slipping through my fingers

Like a handful of sand. 

"The way God made me" drifted away like feathers. 

 

I prayed to Him at night,

Begging to be more like Hanna across the street. 

Hanna's hair was blonde and her eyes were blue,

She was boy-crazy and I wanted to be, too.

 

My friends gossiped about boys,

And I pretended to be interested. 

I only cared about pretty girls

And I was lost.

 

I turned to pills to dull my thoughts,

But only sharpened my blades.

To numb the pain in my heart

I drew blood from my wrists.

 

But no one will ever care about

What slowly eats away at

A lost child.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741