Words of a Lost Teenager

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

There are poets out there who create fictional teen voices, but here is a collection of poetry written by myself. This is the voice of a real teen. Most of these poems are about how I feel living
in a foreign country, Switzerland, and how things are in my perspective. Who knows? Maybe one day my voice will be heard. But who hears those who are long lost?

Table of Contents

Ancient Egypt

Submitted: January 08, 2018

A metaphor of how I felt every day about going to school, comparing many aspects of daily life to occurrences in Ancient Egypt - a time period I am very fond of.
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Qu'est-ce que c'est?

Submitted: January 08, 2018

Living in a French-speaking country makes it difficult to get by daily life, since even after having the language forced down my throat at school I still cannot speak it fluently.
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Submitted: January 08, 2018

This poem compares two interviews I had: one for a college I planned to attend, one for the sixth form I had to attend. In the sixth form interview I was made to feel like I could not do anything
the school wanted me to do and from there my insecurities grew.
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Submitted: January 08, 2018

A poem with a little more structure, telling the story of my daily routine during the week.
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Submitted: January 08, 2018

Told in the perspective of Draco Malfoy from "A Very Potter Musical" and its sequels, I compare me moving to Switzerland to him moving to Mars in order to attend Pigfarts. He misses his home and
his previous school but disguises it with humour, much like how I did when I first moved.
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International Baccalaureate

Submitted: January 08, 2018

Each line spells out a different letter for the title of the qualification I was aiming to get. The IB was very challenging and put many students under a lot of pressure; I have never seen any
qualification as challenging at this age - not even at University level.
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Submitted: January 08, 2018

Just as the title says.
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Submitted: January 08, 2018

Based on an experience I had when in Newcastle, not far from my own hometown, someone I befriended mistook me for a Swedish person. I was known as the person who came from abroad and some people
even tried to educate me on English culture.
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Submitted: January 08, 2018

For a whole year I was forced to be friends with someone my friend knew. My friend and I were previously in a relationship, and I soon found out after the break-up that she and this other friend,
personified in this poem as Russia (since he was obsessed with the Soviets), got together long before my relationship with her ended.
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Digging My Own Grave

Submitted: January 08, 2018

Continuing on with the theme of depression and betrayal, this poem links to my dreams of becoming an archaeologist but also combines with the fact that I haven't got many friends and I ultimately
believe I will never find the right person, nor do I really want to after being hurt.
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The Elegy of Lara Riva

Submitted: January 08, 2018

I often joke about becoming a mafia leader to my friends and thought of writing a book about a mafia group in Switzerland, creating the character of Lara Riva. In this poem, she is betrayed by a
sister-figure because she fell for a Russian man - a man who was already an enemy of Lara's. In the end, Lara was blamed for the Russian joining with her mafia and she was ambushed by her friend,
Beta. The Russian found her alive and had her fed to the dogs. This poem is another personification of my betrayal by my friend, as currently I feel like I am being eaten alive for something which
wasn't even my fault to begin with.
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Submitted: February 18, 2018

After leaving school, I tried to get back into contact with some of the guys I used to hang out with. One guy, who I always saw as the nicest, was the one I turned to and asked for a drink. After
putting me off a few times, he finally messaged me the truth. "You are not my friend." The message stung worse than any emotional pain I've had before; there I was, alone, crying out to someone I
once considered a close friend, someone I had round to my house, someone I bought a lovely gift for and gamed with and laughed with, only to have him turn around and tell me that he didn't see me
as a friend. That the other guys didn't enjoy my company.

On the night this all came out, I went into my living room and obviously I cried a little. It really did hurt. I had already had issues with other friends that day, one of them having gone out with
this group of guys after forgetting a plan he made with me, and this was just the nail in the coffin. Most of my happy memories from that awful school were all lies.

While in my living room, I turned on Netflix and decided to watch one of my favourite comfort shows: Friends. That is why in this poem the characters are known as Phoebe and Chandler. Phoebe is a
character I always saw as one who stood out from the group and seemed the most annoying, while Chandler is cool and somewhat close to Phoebe (also he is my favourite), so to have him be the one to
shut Phoebe down reflects how I felt in the moment of truth.
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