Something brought up over something that cant be helped

I know I may not be the person everyone wants to be around but I have a voice

I know I may be the freak you laughed at when you really had a better choice

I may not be perfect but I know one day I will see my life come to a end

I'm sitting here writing this with no grammar so my sentences blend

but think of it like life who would rather be perfect in every single way

When after the end of the day we are what we are and that's how we will stay

So ask yourself who really has a choice over who the other person can rule life

When even though were grown now the scars still remain  from the figurative knife

We may not be the prom queen or the jocks that felt they was the best

But this is for the victims who feel they never get any rest

We are silent but screaming inside our mind wanting out

Asking the question of whether we deserve the abuse that we want to shout

We bottle inside hoping that one day the scars will heal

we may be fat, thin, short or tall wear glasses or have mental issues that we have to deal

But who can take back the death on the hands that stains them so red

Who can apologize to us when all of us are Dead

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed