three poems by Alinea


I ask myself.
Is it because
I'm not good enough?
Am I not smart enough?
Do I not matter?
Must you persecute me
For having my own thoughts,
My own dreams?
Is it because I'm different?
Can I not be who I am?
Can I change who I am?
Would someone please explain
How it is that I
Am a bad person
For trying not to
Be hurt
For trying to chase
You away so
You aren't close enough
To hurt me.
Hear my whispers
Inside my screaming
A tiny voice
Pleading to be heard
Can you not hear it?
I would have thought you could.
If you open your heart
It can hear
My silent words.

For My Dad

You say that I don't care,
But what are you really saying?
Are you saying that you don't care?
From your harsh words, that's what I'm thinking.

You can't seem to realize
How precariously I am balanced.
I don't think you ever saw
That cliff on which I danced.

You see everything in black and white;
When I understand, I'll let you know.
The world is really all shades of grey;
Do you really wish for the result of the seeds you sow?

Everything I am you've driven me to be.
You taught me not to trust, not to care
And then you wonder, and then you take your anger
And get rid of it on me when you realize I'm not there.

When you know the truth about me,
What will you think, or do, or say?
You won't know the truth until later,
When I'm old enough to stay away.

Now I have nowhere to go
I put up with your constant abuse.
All the while telling myself
Over and over, what's the use?

Some of my pain you inflict knowingly,
The rest is hatred toward the parts of me
I keep hidden away, far from the world,
Away from the dozens of prying eyes that try to see.


Why do I long for pain, I wonder
As I go about my dull and lonely life.
Perhaps to convince myself I can feel
Emotions, other than the strong pull of the knife.

Can I feel? Or am I completely empty?
Will I ever feel love, or hate, or pain?
I long for something more than my daily fear
Which I can't stop from appearing, again and again.

I run, but ever it follows me, everywhere.
And just as I seem about to escape, it appears again
It follows me home, and to school.
And how it always finds me, I do now ken.


Did you like it, hate it, what? I have more poems if you like these.Write to sacem@mindspring.com and tell me what you think.

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