Who I am.

Everyone says I'm a good person,
Everyone says I have a kind heart,
But they don't know everything I've done.
They don't know that instead of sweet, I'm actually tart.


"You always have a smile on!"
"How is it possible you're this nice?"
"Your heart is too big for this world."
No, it's actually made of ice.


Broken and torn,
Shattered and busted,
Say it as you will,
Either way, I've been hurt by those I most trusted.


This smile is fake.
It's just a big show.
It hides the pain I really feel.
But does anyone care? No!


I've tried to reach out,
I've tried to get help.
The pain and sadness I feel isn't safe or natural,
But no one hears anything I say, not a single yelp.


I try to tell myself that I deserve better.
I try to fit in.
But nothing ever works.
Am I really nothing more than skin?


I get bullied every day.
I get called names, I'm a target for spitwads, and I'm shoved in the halls.
Still no one understands,
No one gets why I have put up my walls.


I'm nice because it's polite.
I'm helpful because I care for others.
Why shouldn't I?
We're all humans; we're all sisters and brothers.


So why am I not treated as such?
Why am I not treated how I treat another?
What happened to different being good?
Why does it seem like all I'm good for is being smothered?


Okay, maybe you're right.
Maybe I am just trash.
How many times have you called me that?
When you add it up, you'll realize how I've become as brittle as ash.


They don't say I'm trash for nothing.
They don't say it just to be funny.
I've accepted it's what I am, though.
My life, anymore, isn't sunny.


I've hurt people, I've lied, and I've cheated.
I've been told I've been a bit of a tool.
To think I deserve better?
Wow, I really am a fool.


I deserve every pain I have.
No matter how hard I try,
I cannot make things better,
Maybe I should just lay down and die.


After all, isn't that what you've all been telling me?
Isn't that what you've said all these years?
Even my own father...
He left, not even wanting to help wipe away my first tears.


If I leave this world, everyone will be happy!
You'll all celebrate and slap hands with each other.
While a soul that just wanted to help is lost,
You won't even give a single bother.


Mom, your little girl can't take it anymore.
They all agree, all of those fools.
I would stay for you if I could,
But, hey, majority rules.


To my few friends who stayed,
You deserve better,
But I wanted to thank you for trying,
So I mentioned you in this letter.


All right, I think I'm done.
Maybe that's it?
I needed to say thank you and goodbye first.
Maybe now I can finally quit.


Okay, you win!
I'll lay down and die!
I'm done, I'm through,
The twinkle of life has gone from my eye.


But wait, what's this?
What is this light?
Should I run away?
Should I stay here and fight?


Is this the end?
Did I forget someone?
Oh right, my sisters!
Thanks for all the love and fun.


Thank you to all my family,
Though it's so little and so broken,
And I barely see you all anymore,
Thank you for letting me be the one you have chosen.


Now I'm done.
But why is the light still here?
I think I remembered everyone this time.
Does it mean the end is near?


Ow!
The light hurts my eyes!
Every book I've read said that death is welcoming when it's your time,
Were they all full of lies?


No, they weren't.
I'm not dying at all.
Because just as I was about to cut,
I let the knife fall.


Remember when I said I was done and through?
I meant it.
It's just that I'm not done with life,
I'm done with getting hit.


I refuse to always feel like this.
I refuse to give in.
I'm going to keep going.
I'm going to prove I can win.


Yes, I've hurt people, I've lied, and I've cheated,
But I've apologized.
I've tried to make it right.
If you think people should rectify, I'm the most qualified.


Just because I've done wrong, it doesn't mean I should die.
No one should feel like it's their only way out.
The bullies lose, I win,
Go home, cry, and pout.


The bright light wasn't the aftermath of death,
It was the beginning of a new life.
It was the light at the end of the tunnel.
I no longer need that knife.


Things are still hard,
Things are still tough,
But I'll keep breathing and I'll keep going.
I hope that's enough.


People might not be supportive,
People might not think I'm able to succeed,
But they don't realize that I already have.
That's why I have yet to bleed.


So who am I?
That's hard to answer when you're such a beginner.
I have a new life now, a new identity.
I guess that makes me a winner.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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