• I wrote a poem long ago--
    It was long, with many words.
    I wrote it, put my soul in it,
    As well as all my hurt.

    I showed it to my family,
    My teachers, and my friends.
    They never truly liked it--
    They hated it, in the end.

    I was left alone--alone in the world,
    With no one by my side.
    I tried to talk, but in the end,
    I was lost in the silent tide.

    I drifted there, alone, and lost,
    And didn't know what to do.
    I hoped for help, I hoped for a guide,
    Yet I never got a clue.

    I looked in a mirror in my bright white room,
    Curious, as always, to see
    The poem I'd written, there on my wrists,
    For everyone to read but me.