10/6/2021
Smoke in my lungs regrets on my mind vodka pouring down my throat with tears in my eyes Sat on the hood of a car inhaling a spliff picking up the vodka bottle and throwing it far looking at lost friends knowing that they were never far.
I miss some of those days when I knew someone always had my back before I was depressed And I lost some of my friends to crack see everyone rights me off but I don't talk bout most my trauma I'm just trying to make some friends but people keep telling me I have to be calmer I miss those days before my demons arrived before they chained me up and locked me in this cell.
I'm out of my mind I know that but that's mental health I am not at all well in fact I'm quite sick but unless you know what's it is like to swallow pills while you slit your wrist then you have to right to fucking bitch.
I try and I try every single day to forget my past and all the trauma but that's apart of me and things keep getting harder but I will hold my head up and say "to hell with the world" because as long as I don't slip nothing can break the walls I've started to build.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of a foster kid
PoesíaThis is a collection of poetry I made from ages 15 to 17 it's about mental health and growing up the last few years in foster care it's a journey about maturing as a kid but also learning to grow and deal with my demons in the on going battle of eve...
