i sit here now,
but i am invisible.
you don't see me,
i am passed by.
and if i needed a friend
to help me through this moment
then i would be in trouble,
for i have none.
none but the shadows in my head while we play hide and seek
and loose our minds.
mine slowly slips away with time
as i stare ahead and wait for the
world to end and save me from my pain.
i do not want to say good-bye
but i am done with reasoning as to why
we cannot all learn that we're all killing ourselves
by segresating
and complaning.
we all need to learn that you and i arn't different,
we can see things eye to eye.
our cloths, our speach, and the color of our skin
does not change where we all began,
and that's in blood,
out from the womb,
and we attempt to look around the room
but blinding lights asault our fragile eyes.
and as we grow old and haggered we forget
to appriciate the little things
in life that brought us all
to who we are.
i cannot be content
to sit upon this little park bench
watching all the fools go by
who are pretending they all have lives that never led them all to cry.
but we all know that you're lying,
no one has the perfect life.
if i can embrace your weakness why can't you
endulge your streangth?
and if your only strength is hiding,
well then, i will pull you up and
shake you out.
there is nothing in this world that is too hard for you to cope with,
this i know from past experience.
if you think that i'm too young to have a decent past event
then i can look at you and laugh,
i can turn to you and say,
"then you have never known my pain."
you think i lie.
there is no way that so young an essence could know such torment.
but until you have had the world betray you
and the earth jump away from under your feet,
have your sisters, your brothers, and your own soul betray you
then you have not known my pain.
and i lay my hands down for you,
which are riddled with self inflicted wounds,
however they are small
and you pay them no mind
for you cannot see that it still takes great pain to do souch a thing.
but then i turn around for you
and lift my shirt
and on my back is a scar
that runs from the nape of my neck
the the bottem of the small of my back
encasing metal rods.
....if you are so nieve to think that small age denotes small pain,
then you are not worthy of my embrace
but you shall recieve it anyway.
Tsike Community Member 
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Community Member