My Book About Poems

Oh the Joy of being 17

Every song said, being 17 would be a blast

But here I sit, 3 am in the dark

The walls are closing in and I want my life gone.

I don't speak anymore

High school friends are only that

In the real world my thoughts would be judged

For my personality has been crushed, a mask I have on

I laugh and I smile, but my heart wants to claw itself out

Oh the joy of being 17, only in songs you'll find love

Toxic people and negativity shift who I am

I disguise who I am, try to blend in

Because it's better to be invisible than to be let down and not let in

My skin doesn't fit me, I want to throw it all up

The food in my throat is stuck

Sitting next to the words I want to scream

Don't touch me please, my skin is going to burst

Being dramatic is what I'm known for, when I try to seek help

It's easier to believe in the tooth fairy than in my mental health

Oh the joy of being 17, the only rebellious acts are in my brain

I want to dance, I want to sing, I want to be able to breathe

But when I do you yell at me, I coughed the wrong way

I just want to touch the grass, sitting by the mountain edge

I just want to listen to the birds, and know I'm as free as them.

You ask, why I paint the sky if I'm afraid of heights

You ask, why I paint the sea when I can't even swim

I paint them because they're endless. Because they have much to explore

I paint them because they're are peaceful

Because they bring me hope.

One day I'll swim, one day I'll fly

I want to see my future, one where I can be myself

But for now I don't know who that stranger is, they're hidden by doubt

I want it all to stop, to be silent and peaceful

To not hear the shouts, both in my head and coming from your mouth

What I don't understand is, why I want to live

When at the same time, I want to die

I can't look at myself or feel pretty anymore.

But I want to see how this ends, how I die or how I live.

Time to take a deep breathe, continue on this endless routine

Fingers crossed for some change, a good one I pray for

Oh the joy of being 17, doesn't apply outside the melodies of songs

- A poem for the teenagers, whose lives are restricted and can't speak out about the way they feel. Hold on just a couple more years, you'll be free like the birds. You are not alone.