The boorish stereotypes

That surround my life in poems

My life in angst

Blending me into a general category

Of depressed teenager

Who takes life for granted

And cuts her own flesh

Has pushed me to the limit.

So what if I do, so what if I am

I did not ask to join the crowd

My poems write themselves

My life is formed by you

I am simply powerless

I am surround by people

Who silently abuse

By a media who promotes

Anorexia, bulimia,

Friends, who promote

Converting people to be like them

A education

That tells me 2.8 is not good enough

A mother

Who’s comments

Bite and sting, and compel me

to scream and cry and withdraw

A father

Who doesn’t remember my birthday

Who tells me that my best isn’t enough

The world might as well hand everyone

A razor blade

And then those who are strong,

They can find a way to ignore all this

That doesn’t involve the words worthless daughter

And blood

But I am weak, and I do not care

I want out of the rat race

I want to know that I am good enough,

That I am pretty enough, smart enough,

Fine as I am

If you can do that, you are truly a god

If not, welcome to my world