I hear music blaring in my ears. My notepad is on my lap. I don't know what to write, because there is so much to write about. People try to talk to me, but I don't listen. I remember the nightmare I had when my father hit me. Then it dawns on me- He doesn't care all that much. It wasn't a nightmare. It wasn't a dream. It was real. He doesn't care. He works all hours in the day then isolates himself on the computer. Why?
My brother is probably the closest thing that I have to a friend who's mentaly stable. And he's not much of a party. He is very rude. That notepad in my lap, I realize something. He's not a friend. He's a bully. I have taken beatings when he's upset. I have taken his groundings at home. I take everything off his shoulders.
I write and write and write. I come up with something, something new. Something unsuspected. I write a poem, called Blind.
Blind:
I don't see anything anymore.
I smile and wave,
I don't see the truth.
Every day, hidden by darkness,
Provides faulse light.
I'm not scared,
Because nothing can hurt me.
Right?
I'm not scared,
Because I'm fine.
Right?
Maybe not.
I don't know the difference
Between friendship and hatred.
Between Care and Hate.
I am truly blind.
I cannot see the truth.
I cannot see what's there.
I am truly blind.
Blind from everything I don't know.
Blind from the things I am told.
Who cares about me?
Who cares about what I go through?
I am so blind,
I no longer know.
With that music, in my ears, with that pain here, I write down my true identity, for no one knows till they read my poetry.
(Reside behind closed doors, for that is all I am good for)
wow thats touching
Wow thats.... wow..... Is all of that true?
I feel really sorry for you
thats sad im sorry that u have to go through all that...........
I know it's not gonna help you, but still
I feel really sorry for you
This brings out so much meaning.... I feel sorry for u...