is this all?
a disapointing mess
going through the hall
full of gossip and stress
you hold your own
fight your own battles
and when somethings wrong
dont dare tell or be shunned cuz you tattled
they call it a social life?
when your not cool, more like social death
your mid clouded with suicidal strife
you wonder why you're living talking waisting your breath?
most of us are reclusive
told so manny times
that telling our feelings is stupid
feeling as thought being emotional is a crime
falling apart inside
constanly wondering why?
most times I holf it in, like a receting tide
then it over flows and it makes me cry
Now i sit all by my self
writing this poem looking at the snow
dubbed the "child of hell"
sitting here all alone
feeling like an EMO
saddness overwelms me
my heart black and cold
my sad emotion I won't let you see
very few care about me
keeping my emotions losked it in a safe
I need to find the key
taking this at my own pace
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