I just found my poetry book from one hundred years ago (or may be 15..), and I just wanted to share a few things from there. This is one of my teenager poems:
After a lot of good days,
This is a bad one.
I gotta keep strong, always.
But what to do when the strength is gone?
It’s a nasty addiction,
Keeps on asking my attention,
I wih it would be fiction,
But sometimes I only feel the tension.
This atmosphere in my body parts,
It’s strange, what is going on?
Then the aching starts,
It will just go on and on.
Until I grab my skin,
Scratch it all, till it’s gone, the pressure.
But I’d be better off if I’d begin,
Begin to keep myself together: it is the only measure.
How to love the one whose one is not you,
How to make your friends understand,
You are not a crazy person because of it,
but yet you and him still aren’t through.
For this love I am paying a high price.
Cause when I get home at night,
I can’t see which key to use,
through the tears in my eyes.
I try to cut my way to my heart,
Just to tell it to stop loving you.
To make it change its ways,
to make it easier for our ways to part.
I know responding this way is wrong,
Every morning after I realise that.
Disappointed, wishing my scars,
did not stick around so long.
Funny enough it is not even helping anymore,
Blood running down my fingers,
but yet no longer do I feel relieved.
I feel just as lonely and heartbroken as before.
These are just the battles I fight,
All alone, with no one being able to help,
Not sure how long my little army will hold on,
before I finally see the light.