You'd think.

April 1, 2011
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Books fill up the wall
a guitar leans against the closet door
my paino beside it.

You'd think I'd
be happy
being spoiled.

With my mother being single
it means she had to get married

It means moving away.

Suddenly being spoiled
doesn't seem so good.

This time I'm the poor kid
looked down on.
Passed by.
Banished aside.

The book store clerk
knows my name
I can't seem to remember his
my teachers say I
need to do my homework
I find reading more important.

My 'friend' invites me
to her house.
I invite myself home.
I wish to be alone.
Is that so wrong?

I wish to be back at home.
My real home.
with my real friends
Not my pretends.
She wonders why
I never take her home.

How do I say
'I don't want to'
so it won't hurt her?
How do I say
'I like being alone'
to someone who wont listen?
How do I say
'I don't like you'
to someone who wont hear it?

You'd think I'd be happy
to be away from the drama
the fights and guns.

But I miss the known,
when everyone knew my name,
the screams of my friends,
not doing my work because
I was talking
and not because
I didn't want to.

You'd think I'd be happy
to be alone.
You'd think I wouldn't care.
I wouldn't dare.

You'd think I'd be happy
if you were wrong.

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