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.