Monday, December 29, 2008

Teen Angst

I wrote this poem in 9th grade:

I had a beer behind a book, no one gave me a second look.

I shot up in a back hall, no one seems to care at all.

I failed five tests in a row, people act like they don't know.

I had a joint under the stairs, I guess that no one really cares.

When I was thirteen, I ran away. I was gone for over a day.

When I got home, I got a beating, which wasn't exactly what I was needing.

I'm more innocent than I appear, for growing up is what I fear.

I'm just a kid, not sure of what I did.

I don't know where to go from here, I guess I'll have another beer.

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