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poem -
September 29th 2017, 10:37 PM
This thread has been labeled as triggering, particularly on the subject of self harm, by the original poster or by a Moderator. The contents of this thread might therefore not be suitable for certain sensitive users. Please take this into consideration before continuing to read.
We're sitting in the cubicles,
Alone with a shiny metal friend,
It's the only thing we can truely depend,
We're in the corridors breaking down,
No one seems to understand,
Education isn't right for all,
So we're often looking the fool,
We're screaming out for help,
Somone to notice,
to see, to hear,
We're lost,
We're empty,
We're sitting in the cubicles,
Four in a row,
We're sitting in the corridors,
Tears rolling down our faces,
We aint sure if we are going places
Maybe we're just going to waste it?
Where were you when I needed you?
Off your face in the bottom of a bottle,
We're in the cubicles hurting,
We're in the corridors crying,
But no one ever asks why.
'There will be bad days, there will be good days, there will be really bad days, and really good days, and days that are not bad or good but just simply suck, but either way you got through it and you are here today and that is all that really matters''
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