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A Troubled Kid
November 5, 2020
A troubled kid,
That's all I am to you,
I don't try,
I don't care,
I would let them stare,
You really hate my hair,
But, is that really the reason they stare?
I am damaged,
Broken,
Used,
Decaying,
As if I'm a rotting apple,
There's only so much good left,
Until it, all decays.
Slowly there isn't going to be an apple left.
© Sared S., Pompton Plains, NJ
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This is a piece about my depression and the way my parents talk about me and the way they make me think! But keep in mind that's what they think, nothing your parents or other people say makes it true!