I know you’ll never understand;
I’ve come to accept this.
No, don’t fool yourself;
It is so NOT okay;
I now know it will never be okay;
And it seems ineffectual to care so much
When you don’t.
I’m not asking you to care,
But its unthinkable to me how
You don’t even NOTICE!
How can I make you see???
I’m not afraid of blood,
But cutting myself didn’t seem
To be a very astute solution for this.
I could scream,
I could cry,
I could lock myself in my room,
And refuse to speak to you,
But I don’t need a doctor’s diagnosis
To know I’m depressed.
Plus, maybe someday I’ll want to go to college
With the money you would spend on that therapist.
Do I need to have a pregnancy scare
For you to realize I’m an at-risk teen??
Cause I kinda wanted it to save it for marriage,
But anything for you.
Do I need black hair dye,
Or to pierce my face
And double pierce my ears
For you to see how I don’t fit in!
But, you know, I’d rather not
Look so unkempt and …ugh,
I hate black.
Now I know I don’t need to write a scary little note,
Swallow a whole bottle,
Or tie a rope to a ceiling fan,
For you to see how unhappy I am with my life.
Right?