Written work, numbers and all
Tear stained shirts, blood stained wall
Pens running out of ink exploding in my hands
Eyes half closed and bedtimes interrupted
Revision ruining my sleep, sleepless nights messing with my mind
Tears of stress, scribbles on my latest maths test.
Alphabet memorised, but life lessons never taught,
why are we here?
Many footprints on the playground,
but invisible blood on innocent hands.
Relying on energy cans, to get yourself through the day brought down because you write differently to others.
When a number, a fact or a statistic
is all that you have become.
Printed paper, in heavy booklets.
Written agony and silent suffering.
What are we doing?
This generation, will grow up and think,
what if I could have done better on that exam would I be somewhere different to where I am?
What if I didn't have that panic attack, would I have learnt anything else?
What if I wasn't their robot?
Would I have made it to 18?
What if they dealt with my problems, instead of telling me they were irrelevant?
I wouldn't have to watch as my father puts red roses on my gravestone. What if I was treated like a person? Instead of constantly working.
YOU ARE READING
Chemicals
PoetryThere are thoughts in my head laced with chemicals and dread i'll write them all down word for word, in a series of rhymes this way I wont crash and burn. (Trigger Warning)