Waves
You wonder why we do this.
Why we leave the scars on our skin.
We do it because we’re angry.
You made us feel that we’ve sinned.
We go through everyday,
Knowing what’s coming next,
The bullying and harrasment.
That we can never accept.
These waves of depression,
hanging on so tight.
We pick up the razor,
cause we’re not gonna win this fight.
The razor is the brush,
our blood is the paint.
Our skin is the canvas,
our bodies, which we hate.
As this poem comes to an end,
as we end our strive.
Haters do not worry,
This poem is our life.
- Jacob Garrett
