I know, I’m small.
I’m just 15.
I’m a teen.
If I cry, its drama,
If I’m in love, it’s a phase,
What if I get raped?
Oh yeah, I get to be the reason for “my” trauma.
If I want to be independent,
I have something to hide.
If I want to live alone,
I have someone to put out of sight.
If I talk, I talk too much.
If I’m silent, I’m a freak.
It’s a dangerous world out there,
So I “should” stay within my own clique.
There must be no depression to express,
There shouldn’t be tears to fall off.
Because then, I’m seeking sympathy,
Because then, to my parents I’m a disgrace.
It’s 2 AM and I’m still 15.
I’m one voice here.
I seek one desire.
My heart pains only for my dreams.
I ask for this as I can’t seem to be able to swallow my sufferings screams.
Still, why do I feel like I belong?
Why do I feel like they care?
Knowing they don’t.
Why am I welcomed?
When I should probably just be sent to bed.
Why do I feel wanted?
Why do I feel alive even though every day is a dying day?
And yet I feel betrayed though I’m fully looked after.
Why do I feel understood?
Even though I know it’s just heads nodding in my direction.