Unstable

Mine is one fairly easy to explain.

My frustrations and pain

have both morphed into a rage.

 

Rage

At the boy who called me fat in fourth grade,

because words can’t hurt me so verbal bullying is “okay”.

 

Rage

At the father who didn't know how to keep my mother,

because raising 6 kids is “easy” and appreciation is “too hard”.

 

Rage

At adults always looking at one side and not the other,

because teenagers are just “dramatic” and our

frustrations “don't matter”.


Rage

At the teacher who said I was selfish

for loving a boy who made me smile.

 

And I have TRIED to salvage what was left of the four year old me,

but she is lost and so is her memory.

 

And now

after all the chaos and pain,

Is an ugly

pitiful

rage.

This poem is about: 
Me

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