My Life

May 7, 2012
By littleduck17 GOLD, Shallowater, Texas
littleduck17 GOLD, Shallowater, Texas
11 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
"The people who are cloest to you will be the ones who hurt you the most."
-Unknown


Imprisonment.
It’s all I feel.
Controlled.
It’s what my life is.
Sheltered.
It’s one word that describes me.
All my life these three words have haunted me.
How many times have I tried to be rid of them?
Too many times!
How many times have I succeeded?
None at all.
How much do I wish for a chance?
A chance to prove I am strong enough?
Too much!
So much it hurts!
It tugs at my heart with little hooks that will never go away.
They will remain embedded in me until I can be looked at as capable.
How much do I hate feeling incapable?
Too much!
So much it’s almost unhealthy!
It burns in my stomach with a fire that will always remain.
It will never go away until I can be seen as strong.
How much do I want to be known as strong?
Too much!
So much it brings sadness to my aching heart.
Unwanted tears fall in my hands.
They will remain and never go away until I’m seen as
Strong and Capable.
How much I want that!
Too much!
Too bad it’s only a fairytale and it will never come true
For an imprisoned, controlled, sheltered girl like me.



Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 1 comment.


on Jun. 28 2012 at 9:22 am
powder_blue SILVER, Edgerton, Maryland
8 articles 0 photos 5 comments

Favorite Quote:
Girls are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. The boys don't want to reach for the good ones because they're afraid that they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they just get the rotten apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. So the apples at the top think that something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right boy to come along, the one who's brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

i like the way you wrote this poem. you made me feel exactly the way you felt when you wrote this poem. 


Parkland Book