Everyone

My name is Vera, I’m 93.

Let me tell you about me,

I have this thing it’s in my brain,

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I am sick. not physically though. I am sick in my head. I am sick of the world. I am sick of people thinking that I am just a toy to play with or just someone that they can use like a plastic bag and

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He made me feel like a burden

But to you I’m a king

I don’t understand

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My cry for help was heard for no reason,

Just a quiet call - my life’s small beacon.

No one could hear, no one could see

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As a child I was scared of someone because I had been hurt

I wanted my specific order

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Treason is not so lonely

Send for the handsome devil

You will find a riddle

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Please don’t tell me to write happy poems

These are my poems

Same as these are my feelings

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I’ve been changing myself to fit people’s standards,

since third grade,

I don’t know her she was weird and goofy,

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You had me on the bathroom floor,

No let me explain,

Not just crying,

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But I’m not this piece of glass you can glue over and over again

Well, I guess I am in a way

Cause you can fix me

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