This is ME
- Reads 159
- Votes 10
- Parts 4
hungry, not hungry for righteousness!
yet hungry when I go home. there's no food on the table everyday.
hungry just wondering how will I survive
will I have food?
will I have clothes?
will I even have anything?
no money, broke
not only broke with money
but my soul is... yet... along shattered!
I'm broken inside and nothing no one can say or do can ever change that
I'm just this little girl, trapped in a bubble
scared with no way out
stuck here alone thinking...
"is my mom gonna die tomorrow, the next day or, the next?"
confused on where I'm gonna live
with my mom dad or sister?
knowing my brother isn't talking to me because of the cuts and scars on my arm
confused on if I will make it to the end of the tunnel or 6 feet deep down under
I'm angry.YES!
angry with my life!
with being hungry, getting bullied and never having someone to be completely open with
this anger is boiling up inside of me
I just want to hide away from the dark shadows
this is me
and I am depressed
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#206
uncovering
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I was kicked around like trash on the streets. I was the book that nobody could understand or read, but without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. I screamed for attention, but time after time, I was ignored. Nobody noticed me, so I made myself at home in my own shadow. They say there's light at the end of the tunnel -- I searched and searched for it, but it could never be found. Therefore, I lost hope as I hid in the shade and endured what seemed like everlasting pain. The little hope I did have was snatched from my arms. My baby brother was my life, and they took my glimpse of hope away. Home. Is that a word? Maybe for a family of some kind, but for me, I never had a place to call home. I moved from place to place. Unstable foster care, fighting for my life in group homes, barely surviving in detention centers, and running away from being mistreated as I made many benches my temporary home. The only thing that I was familiar with was a black plastic bag containing my dirty rags. I am too young to know what it feels like to survive. These are the cards life has dealt me and I am not meant to win; however, I easily lose without trying. It is hard for me to find peace. I am paying for my mother's reckless actions. I am trapped in a world where the sun has died because I am unable to feel love. I am unable to dream. Sorrow is my aura, and the sadness hugs me. My eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence from my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. I am damaged. When will the morning come? Did the sun put up a fight last night, like I do every single day? If I can survive the day, I know the sun isn't dead. One day, I will awake to a glorious sunrise. Until then, I hope my brother keeps blowing his pinwheel, and I will keep making wishes with every dandelion I come across. For now, all I know is that everything was taken from me, and the only thing I own is my name.
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