You’re constantly yelling at me even though I’m not the problem.
My bottled up emotions make me want to down the bottle of rum that you have stored away.

Stored away like all of my happiness that you’ve hidden under lock and key.
Hidden from me,
Forcing me to live my life like it’s the highway to Hell.

And I don’t know how much more I can take these days.
Dealing with all of this pain every day to the point where all I can see is grey.

And I can’t take back what I have done in my past.
Slicing my skin again and again because I wanted the feeling of release to last,
Holding on to that feeling because it was the only thing that was worth holding to.

I try to be the perfect child that you want me to be.
But when you started insulting me for every mistake that I made,
A little atom bomb went off inside of me,
Vaporizing all of the pride and courage that I had left.
And yet you still have the audacity to just sit there and continue criticizing me.

People used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up,
And I would say, “An engineer because I’m good at math” or “A counselor because I don’t want people to feel alone”.
But the more that I ponder the question of ‘What I want to be when I grow up’, the more I realize what I actually want to be.

When I grow up I want to be alive and not 6 feet below the ground.

People ask how I’m doing and I say “Fine”.
But in reality,
I’m not fine.

In reality, I’m scared because I don’t know what my future has planned for me,
And right now it doesn’t look too bright.

I used to get excited for tomorrow to come,
Wondering what awaited me.

But these days that’s the thing that tears me apart bit by bit:
The fact that I don’t know.
Anxiously waiting for the day to end but having no time to prepare for the next,
The pressure of it bends my spine.
Because in reality, I’m not fine.

Growing up I used to want toys and candy.

But these days all I want is black clothing because I feel dark and empty on the inside.
I want long sleeved shirts that I can wear in the summer so I can hide my scars of defeat that are scattered on my arms.
I want long hair to hide behind so I don’t have to see the looks of accusation and disappointment aimed at me like a rifle.
I want a muzzle so I can’t even say anything that I’ll regret,
Because I walk around with enough regret as it is.

But thing that I want the most is the key that unlock the happiness that you have hidden from me.