History is a Mystery

History is a Mystery

Everything said, I look for the negative,

What’s the point of even considering the positive?

The subject of parents, being strong or even a car,

Even if I look/sound happy, I still feel so far.

People may say I have so much potential,

But right now, I don’t even know what’s essential…

They say I need to vent,

By God were they sent?

Is the ‘right’ choice suicide?

With death should I coincide?

It would not solve any of my feelings,

I’m feeling compressed by the walls, and the ceilings.

My hands begin to sweat now when I write,

I try, but fail to concentrate with all of my might.

At school, it is hard to stay ‘in the zone’,

When feeling lonely, I resort to my phone.

Writing this, my stomach turned,

Even though it was O calories I burned.

I wrote this poem today in history,

Why I feel this way…is only a mystery.

Guide that inspired this poem: 



very good

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