Most people love this time of the year
I don't for me its a time full of tears
I listen to the people say what they will do
While I'm stuck all alone in a home for the youth
Who have never had somebody even the kids here they go
To the family that they have while I'm here all alone
They eat fine dinners with their grandmas while my grandma is dead
Visit home with their parents get to sleep in their bed
As a 16-year-old it is not my first year
that I have been all alone it's just me and my fears
Thanksgiving is just sad as I start to recollect
All the beating that I had, the abuse the neglect
Then comes Christmas and it starts to get bad
I recall all the families and the hope that I had
But nothing lasts forever I have found that to be true
Because in the end it just pretend and they never show through
No, I don't ask for sympathy no I don't ask for much
Because now what I long for is a thing that's called love
No longer want any toys and no longer wish to have a home
Now I see all I want is not to be alone
But I am it won't change so at night is when I roam
In my mind, while I find the words for my poems
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Author:
Mr,apocalapse (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 23rd, 2022 02:38
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: LP2187
Offline)
Comments3
That's quite rough and it is both people that can make it good or make it bad. My thoughts are for the ones that make it good to surround you and for you to be around.
thank you
Just know that time is an ally, writing is a release, and the caring of others can fill the void. Your chronicle here is no less valuable than Whitman's 'Leaves of Grass'. All are just pieces of the process of healing. Never forget what was done, and never be the doer. ~ from a fellow abuse victim and runaway.
i agree with that just it could make it easier to have someone
it's sad to hear mr. apocalypse, i wish i could help
believe me, tt once I get over the yearly sadness im a peaceful and happy person
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