Tears flow down my eyes and the words can't reach my throat. I lay here wondering what will come out next as the salt water reaches my lip stinging my taste buds. I open my moth to speak but what comes out is a voice crack. I scream and shout yet no one hears. I cry for mother mother but she never comes. I am that tree that falls in the forest when no ones around. I am the missing girl that never gets found. I am the square that never becomes round. Yet I try and try until someone finds me because to give up means to not be strong. And father taught us to always be strong or not be a family at all. Cause strength meant power and power meant money. Money meant getting out of debt and off food stamps. Money also meant him leaving 3 out of 4 weeks every month and missing important things. The hatred slowly grew inside me and now I sit here crying because I am not strong and never will be.
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Teen Years
PoetryThe struggle of a teenager just figuring herself out. It's not a pity story. But a look on how life is impacted on the little things everyday.
