The Struggle of Being Me
I am not who I wanted to be
When I was just nine.
The skinned knees and broken bones
Turned into attention pleas and "forgotten" loans.
Cut? No. Burn> No. Purge? No.
Cry?
Everyday.
Because people make bad decisions.
My life is full of them.
But I have grown.
Now I am strong.
I'll be the one they hate.
This poem is about:
Me