This Is Me

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


The door opens and that's when it starts.

Seeing so many different faces,

so many different voices,

it all creates a spark.

Trying to interact,

trying to make friends,

it makes me feel like

the world is about to end.

There's so many things to do,

I don't know what to choose,

it's all way to difficult.

These people I'm surrounded with,

they aren't filled with my favorite gifts.

I need to find the person

that I can share my feelings with.

So many people,

I tried to accompany,

they all turned around

and back stabbed me.

Everyone is telling me

that I'm too picky

or not giving them a chance,

but in reality it's them

who should being saying thanks.

I know that might sound rude,

but they should be considerate to me too,

because I'm the one

that's playing the fool

in this non scripted play.

Going down the halls

of this giant maze,

I constantly feel the people

walking past me with a

strong, stern, powerful gaze.

I can hear them whispering

when I walk past

and saying things that cause

my eyes to quickly become

glazed like glass.

I start to walk faster

whenever I'm in the hall,

trying to get to class

before someone makes me trip and fall.

I try to avoid talking to anyone

because I'm scared they'll laugh at me

and I'd have to get up and run.

I regret ever trying to make friends

in the first place

since now everyone

makes my heart ache.

I really want to be wanted

in this building called school,

but that won't ever be reality,

it's now my new life rule.

Very few people are ever nice to me

and they're the people I call family.

Most people aren't all that good

They're the people I would call hoods.

I used to be able to walk

around with a real smile

That could be seen from

maybe more than a mile.

But ever since I grew up

and actually saw what life was

I now know that nothing

Is all tulips and buttercups

Whenever I laugh,

I quickly stop

Because it isn't worth it

Oh no it's not

These people I have to be

In the same room everyday

They take the feelings that I have

Away from the cold, dreary day.

Everyday is a challenge

That I never want to face.

I never want to get out of bed

I want to dream my way out

Of a life that's practically dead

I like my dreams better than reality

And that is me

Oh yes indeed. 


Submitted: January 18, 2018

© Copyright 2022 Ryder.Avanue. All rights reserved.

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Comments

hullabaloo22

Great self-expression. It really can help to pour the words out. Nice rhythm and rhyme in a poem that says clearly what it is like to be an outsider in school.

Fri, January 19th, 2018 9:01pm

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