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All Alone

I have some friends,
but trust no one.
And until the end,
being alone will be my fun.

I just hate;
I do know why.
Help will come too late,
and I will die.

You can't help me,
because I won't let you.
Because you can't make me see
that your intentions are true.

I've been betrayed so many times
I am now unable to trust.
I don't taste the strawberries, only the limes;
but for just one pure act towards me I lust.

Will you be the one to earn it,
the trust I keep hidden?
What if I throw a fit,
because I don't want to be ridden?

I hate you all
for what you have done
to make me fall
straight into the fire of the sun.

Will you change it?
Resent and apologize?
For all the bullshit?
For all the lies?

I know how you feel:
You don't care
about me or what you steal
from what I share.

No one knows,
no one wants to.
My depression shows,
but you dismiss it as something I just "do."

What's worse,
you make fun of me.
Then you laugh like a horse,
and my sadness and anger you start to see.

You don't understand
what I have to go through everyday...
You can't understand,
you know what I write, but not what I say...

I am all alone.

Author notes

This poem is deticated to my family, friends, classmates, and anyone who has ever heard me speak.  I was gonna explain that, but...all I'll say is:  It's hard, because people only understand me clearly when I write.  Please don't ask...
Written February 18th, 2006

A contest entry

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    I plan to revise this poem: please leave constructive criticism!
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Comments


  • p b without the j
    February 19, 2006
    Edit | Reply
    I will comment, and DIPLOMATICALY!!! Whatever that means...
    You don't have any...nukes...do you?!?!?

    I remember writing like this when I was 13. And lo, you're 13!! So I will not judge you on poetic experience and instead judge you on this poem of yours, here.
    You have a lot of hurt, and I'm sorry. Life can be hard, actually, life is hard. None of that bull about life getting easier when you get older is actually true. People just forget and get reeeeeeally good at hidding it.

    I don't taste the strawberries, only the limes
    I liked that line. It just blew in, unawares.

    I would say, in abotu six months to a year, you'll evolve as a poet and this is your stepping stone. I must admit, I don't like rhyming every line, the ABAB, CDCD, etc. rhyming scheme. That was a downside to this poem. Other than that, it was a mighty good effort.

    Keep at it!