A Collection of Teenage Poetry

In Which I'm Asked to Decide

How can you ask me to make decisions?

After all the shelter of the shouting

and the cradle of your control,
how can I be expected to have independent thought
and not be afraid?

I've become an infant
struggling through the concept of knowing 
exactly what I want
but being unable
to put it into words, so I do what I can:

I cry

And I pray to whatever gods may be that 
someone understands and makes the decision for me

I've become silent
struggling to find a form of identity

shifting between introvert and extrovert because
I am outgoing and dramatic and fierce
but only behind closed doors and shower curtains

This isn't how I've always been
When I was young enough to believe in happy endings 
I showered my thoughts unto the world
as if they were the stars
I let them shine.

until
Someone screamed that my stars were stupid

And as each light was blown out 
I became quiet
                    depressed
                    "different"

The cursed firemen who extinguished my light,
were the same ones that
"missed the old Autumn"
and scolded me for
"changing myself"

Every turn I've made led me to a dead end
Every friend I've made has decided I'm not worth it
Every time I try to be independent I am just told that I'm wrong. 
Again.

So how, I ask, can you expect me to keep making decisions?