Poetry isn't my Forte, but I'm willing to try.
Location
The true me?
Well there's a mystery.
Even I, myself find trouble to congregate my thoughts.
Maybe that is me-a plethora of lost thoughts?
Microscopic thoughts. Dots.
Dots endured through my limbic system and expressed outward.
Thoughts of lost hope only to be covered with a bright smile.
Nobody understands me, so how to explain my true self?
Here's something: Seventeen
Seventeen and helpless.
Demoralized and confused.
Distressed and un-confident.
Broken of insecurity, yet still attempting.
That's me: a contrite girl with so much ahead of her, but stuck in a sea of troubles.
Therefore I ask of you, don't pull the curtain back.
Please.