After my delicious dinner with Mom, I head upstairs to relax and write some poetry. Poetry sort of calms me, I guess. It's hard to explain. It makes me feel better about my usually crappy day. I title my poem - and let the words speak for me.
THERAPY
White dark room
Woman with a clipboard
You just don't show any emotion
Cyborg
Cold as ice
And sharp as an icicle
I am strong
I don't need this
I'm fine
I wish that
I didn't need to
LIE about this.
Someone
HELP
ME
Drowning in misery
The term mask
Depression
No
Anger Issues
Help
Anxiety
Stop
I am FINE
I do not need your HELP so
just
stop.
Poetry does make me feel a bit better, but it's not a total stress reliever. I know my parents deserved a regular kid, who does homework and doesn't need to be homeschooled and actually eats food. Oh.
Did I not mention I am anorexic. Pardon me.
I'm full of surprises.
YOU ARE READING
The End of the World for Lillian Brown
General FictionLillian 'Lilly' Brown is not your average teen. She bottles up her feelings so that she can avoid her rare "rage periods", and tries to ignore the haters, bullies, and mean girls. But when she finally cracks after holding in her anger at the world f...
