Teenage Years

Teenage angst, women wearing spanx to insecure to say thanks
can’t take a compliment their disaster’s imminent don’t really know if this is relavant but im doin this for the hell of it
picture a scene of a teenage party so obscene bicardi for the alchohol fiends and weed for the ones that find it hard to see without something to free they mind searching for something they’ll never find.
in the corner teenage girl cryin a whole ripped through her chest because the boy in the vest took it for sex and he threw it in the trash when he was done, and the girl just crashed so she grabbed the gun.
That’s how this fucked up world works we yearn and we search trying to learn from what hurts, hopin the people we find never desert, and end up wandering in a barren social dessert, with the popular crowd circlin like buzzards when the boy from down the block enters the room, he feels everyones waiting focused, zoomed, like locusts ready to consume any mistake he makes they’ll use it for their sake, and thats the fucked world we make by actin fake 
And then theres the girl who didn’t get invited she was so excited but was slighted 
it was the last straw that made her fall she turned violent, due to a history of being ignored a series of doors slammed in her face, and new faces taking her place called a whore just because she was poor, and wore tattered clothes because she had no more, felt like each school day was a losing battle in a never ending war but why not have some more?
You see those kids who were watching the block kids’ every move felt to insecure to make an individual move, then one broke from the pack couldn’t take it, that is acting fake, and the rest attacked making direct threats, telling him he’d never be his best he’d wind up begging for the love of the rest when in reality they were all just begging for rest
stoners in a locked closet feeling like socrates making prophecies, drunk kids in the living room living a comedy insecure about all their qualities, and the nerds at home wishin they were the ones that were stoned because they feel so alone
we all have the same troubles no matter what cliques are formed to make us split we all feel forlorn, searchin for love in porn, scared of all our peers scorn, inside feeling torn, 
how do we fix this we just wanna make it through and hopefully live our lifes with a loyal crew, but we live as if our lies are true, and we wonder why we don’t know what to do.
it’s as if the anxiety is the perspiring all mighty, the instigator of why we think were all just traitors to our true self, if this continues we’ll have to hang our dreams on a shelf, and we scream beacuse we’ve never truly felt, welp maybe it’s time to step up and be proud of who you are and yell loud and hard that you’re gonna depart from all these fucktards dreaming about parties in yards and becoming empty bards, so play your own cards
This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world


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