Teenage problems, right?

I wish I was different.

My way of thinking is a mess.

My brain's in a constant state of unrest.

It's always telling me things to change, but then says it can't happen, not with me.

I say I'll be alright, that all I need is time, but I'm fighting with something can't see.

Can I be alright if I don't know what's wrong with me?

My mouth swears to be better as my brain rolls its eyes.

I don't want to be dramatic,

But I'm not sick when I act it.

 

 

But what if I am?

And I'm in denial?

Would it make me cry or make make me smile?

To know that there is a reason for this?

 

I've been acting crazy, and I know,

I just don't know where to go.

My biggest fear is disappointment,

but I'm the reason why

My dad is sad and my poor mother cries.

Becaue they think I'm just pretending.

I'm not sick, just sick of learning.

 

 

Teenage problems, right? :)

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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