Kids Are Not Slaves.
I forgot I wrote this. But I liked it. I wrote this when i got kicked out of Spanish class..... either in december or January. I forget. I know I spelled some things wrong, and I used some words wrong. And some of it doesn't make sense. And I over used some words, or a phrase. But I did some of that on purpose, well the over-use. The rest of it i'm just to lazy to fix. **Big Smile** I'm Sure You Will Get The Point.
As I sit here in this lifeless place i know not what i am anymore. I can feel the red eyes focused on my black shirt. Is it that rare to see? What is there even to look at, to focus on? What could I ever be that could ever remote to any grace? I hear the footsteps graze the carpets, as civilians pass me by. No care in the world, no reguards to ones self. Just figures and thoughts in their minds of what is to come next. I can faintly hear voices speaking to one another in the distance, not to far from where i sit. Thes white walls seem to be closing in on me. All I can see now is white, but all I can feel is red. My breathing is so heavy now, my heart beat races as the thought of frustration. The anger rises up in me, running outside in, and inside out. My pupils widen with resentment for those who misunderstand my ways. I focus on nothing, but everything all at once. Little nicks in the carpet that catch my eye, seem to feel like the flaws i cant control in my own life. I know t hem well, my defects are who i am. My grip gets tighter on thepencil i would hold loosely in my right hand. The repression travels all through my motionless body. I sit and stare at cracks in the white wall, that seems to be moving closer to me. It surrounds my mind, and bottles it in, left with no place to go, no place to run, no place to hide. Fells natural almost. My life is full of obsticles that I can not rearrange to my desire. I wish not death, but difference. I wish not happiness, but contentment. My focus moves to the windows beside me, people playing in the white blanket of snow we recieved not to long before. The sun refelcts its natural beauty, but burns my eyes from inside my skull. I change focus quickly, and relalize that i no longer know what reality is, seems not what I used to know. I feel counterfeit. Fantasies seem real my mind. My distorted sense of dream and reality. But seem so out of reach from my heart. It bleeds with no end to its life. Black Heart, Red Knife, Broken Love, Open Wounds, That Was Me. I sit in this cold scement like shair, i can feel it stealing all the energy from me. I wish i sit not where I am, but where I want to be. I pretend I am someone else, somewhere else, anywhere else, than where I am. The people here abhor hate for me. Speak words of lies, with no fake truth behind them. No reason to hate, but still feel the need to hate the unfamiliar. Am I not a person too? Am i not worth your respect? Questions come at me like bullets from a gun, no answers to be found. With no answers on hand, and I now a criminal? Answers are not for every question, things go better often, unanswered. Opened ended questions, to trick the mind, they can't fool me. I see through the lies, I see through the smiles in which they fake acrossed their faces. What is so wrong with speaking the thoughts your heart feels? Telling the feelings that consume your every speculation? Is that not what truth is, what so many preach they want from society? I find myself stund at the thought of betrayal, and self deceit. Lies are not what should be spkoen, truth is all ears want to know. Truth is the only good taste the tongue knows. Lies are sour, and taste of bitter revenge. If you need hide osmething, you must know you have done wrong. Almost time to leave this inferno. The air taste like sorrow, and i need not more sorrow in my lungs. I can feel my heart eating at my mind, what may my next move be? My leg is shaking with antisipation. I need not die, but out of the place. These peerfect white walls, stare at my pain, and mock its every tear. Telling me i may never amount to nothing in this life time that resembles their perfection. I see them closing in on me, leaving me no where to hide my thoughts. I close my eyes, in hopes i'm just dreaming. But i know not a difference between the two. Fine line between reality and dream, gone. Stomped out and forever wasted away. I do not want this life anymore. Please steal me away from my only hurt. My heart is healing but breaking more everyday. How much more do they think i can handle? My smile feels phony, empty. Heartless even, maybe. No mreal meaning behind these pearly whites, just thoughts of agony, and days wasted trying to please those who may never be satisfied by my only capabilities in my own reach. I wish not death, but to be not who i am. I need to be saved, but no savior is in sight. I'm left here in this room of white walls, to laugh and mock me like they always have. I know I am alone, but I never thought that being alone would feel so solitary. Can no one hear my screams.....
As I sit here in this lifeless place i know not what i am anymore. I can feel the red eyes focused on my black shirt. Is it that rare to see? What is there even to look at, to focus on? What could I ever be that could ever remote to any grace? I hear the footsteps graze the carpets, as civilians pass me by. No care in the world, no reguards to ones self. Just figures and thoughts in their minds of what is to come next. I can faintly hear voices speaking to one another in the distance, not to far from where i sit. Thes white walls seem to be closing in on me. All I can see now is white, but all I can feel is red. My breathing is so heavy now, my heart beat races as the thought of frustration. The anger rises up in me, running outside in, and inside out. My pupils widen with resentment for those who misunderstand my ways. I focus on nothing, but everything all at once. Little nicks in the carpet that catch my eye, seem to feel like the flaws i cant control in my own life. I know t hem well, my defects are who i am. My grip gets tighter on thepencil i would hold loosely in my right hand. The repression travels all through my motionless body. I sit and stare at cracks in the white wall, that seems to be moving closer to me. It surrounds my mind, and bottles it in, left with no place to go, no place to run, no place to hide. Fells natural almost. My life is full of obsticles that I can not rearrange to my desire. I wish not death, but difference. I wish not happiness, but contentment. My focus moves to the windows beside me, people playing in the white blanket of snow we recieved not to long before. The sun refelcts its natural beauty, but burns my eyes from inside my skull. I change focus quickly, and relalize that i no longer know what reality is, seems not what I used to know. I feel counterfeit. Fantasies seem real my mind. My distorted sense of dream and reality. But seem so out of reach from my heart. It bleeds with no end to its life. Black Heart, Red Knife, Broken Love, Open Wounds, That Was Me. I sit in this cold scement like shair, i can feel it stealing all the energy from me. I wish i sit not where I am, but where I want to be. I pretend I am someone else, somewhere else, anywhere else, than where I am. The people here abhor hate for me. Speak words of lies, with no fake truth behind them. No reason to hate, but still feel the need to hate the unfamiliar. Am I not a person too? Am i not worth your respect? Questions come at me like bullets from a gun, no answers to be found. With no answers on hand, and I now a criminal? Answers are not for every question, things go better often, unanswered. Opened ended questions, to trick the mind, they can't fool me. I see through the lies, I see through the smiles in which they fake acrossed their faces. What is so wrong with speaking the thoughts your heart feels? Telling the feelings that consume your every speculation? Is that not what truth is, what so many preach they want from society? I find myself stund at the thought of betrayal, and self deceit. Lies are not what should be spkoen, truth is all ears want to know. Truth is the only good taste the tongue knows. Lies are sour, and taste of bitter revenge. If you need hide osmething, you must know you have done wrong. Almost time to leave this inferno. The air taste like sorrow, and i need not more sorrow in my lungs. I can feel my heart eating at my mind, what may my next move be? My leg is shaking with antisipation. I need not die, but out of the place. These peerfect white walls, stare at my pain, and mock its every tear. Telling me i may never amount to nothing in this life time that resembles their perfection. I see them closing in on me, leaving me no where to hide my thoughts. I close my eyes, in hopes i'm just dreaming. But i know not a difference between the two. Fine line between reality and dream, gone. Stomped out and forever wasted away. I do not want this life anymore. Please steal me away from my only hurt. My heart is healing but breaking more everyday. How much more do they think i can handle? My smile feels phony, empty. Heartless even, maybe. No mreal meaning behind these pearly whites, just thoughts of agony, and days wasted trying to please those who may never be satisfied by my only capabilities in my own reach. I wish not death, but to be not who i am. I need to be saved, but no savior is in sight. I'm left here in this room of white walls, to laugh and mock me like they always have. I know I am alone, but I never thought that being alone would feel so solitary. Can no one hear my screams.....