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Literature Text
I am thirteen years old.
I am one of Jehovah's Witnesses.
I am proud.
I am strong.
I am unique.
I am a poet.
I am an artist.
I sing.
I draw.
I create.
I express.
I have Bipolar Disorder.
I have hallucinations.
I have delusions.
I am not crazy.
I am not strange.
I am different.
I am me.
Who are you?
I am one of Jehovah's Witnesses.
I am proud.
I am strong.
I am unique.
I am a poet.
I am an artist.
I sing.
I draw.
I create.
I express.
I have Bipolar Disorder.
I have hallucinations.
I have delusions.
I am not crazy.
I am not strange.
I am different.
I am me.
Who are you?
Literature
I am not
I’m not your little boy.
You’re not my little girl.
I’m just someone you met,
And wants to change the world
I’m not the prince in your dreams
I don’t have smarts or might
I’m just the one that screams
And cries to sleep at night
I’m not who you want me to be.
I will never be what you are.
I’m myself, I am free.
I’m not ashamed of my scars
I’m not that weak
You’re not that strong
You still have company
But I’m still alone
So I speak
Though this poem.
It’s not a pretty love song
I’m just saying what pains me, explaining what’s going on
Literature
A Lonely Life
I have proof that love isn’t real
And that fate means nothing
Though I did feel my heart breaking
So there must be something
Maybe I’m alone in my thoughts
That love’s worth fighting for
Maybe I’m alone in my dreams
Just as I was the night before
Oh Lord, I don’t need no children
Lord, I don’t need no wife
Please take me now or leave me here
To live out my lonely life
I have proof that love isn’t real
That souls are worth nothing
But I felt my spirit leaving me
While my life was ongoing
Maybe I’m over sentimental
And listen to poets too much
Maybe I’ll believe in what I feel
Not only w
Literature
Therapists, I don't like their taste.
i.
in 7th grade
i didn’t know depression
until she told me her name,
carving forever scratches
along my limbs like
little love notes on the bark
of a tree.
she stole my rings
and left me hollow.
ii.
i had only ever met anxiety
in passing, until one day
he handed me power and told me
to hurt someone else with it.
iii.
inexperienced,
with an uncontrollable
quivering in my fingers,
he whispered, “ to survive,
you must learn quickly.”
as i shoved the bevel of a needle
into a strangers arm.
iv.
so, if a therapist
could talk away my scars
like iodine disinfects,
guide the ships
through
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This is me.
© 2013 - 2024 MikkiMarie
Comments50
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Good for you. I am different too, but in a different way. This is awesome, thank you.