Her mother roared, pushed her inside this h o m e .
The girl cried, yelped to be alone.
A door slams; she howls with tears.
A grunt downstairs -
"I fucking knew it."
Another day,
Another attempt to be a runaway.
Can you blame her?
With this pain?
A preteen was never meant to be so slain.
A mother deeply invested in vain,
A father messed up in the brain.
He was in cells, two fists compelled.
She was a freight train, merely trying to be sane.
In this world, now, you either are
With selfies and young bodies looking in their twenties,
Or enclosed with locked doors of grief and hate taking the s a m e n a m e .
But with this so-called family, neither are right, and you will never be a good sight.
She whispers into her phone, asking for a consul.
Her friend responds, but with who knows.
Her mother is loud downstairs, complains about everything here and there.
Her daughter cries and plans her way to Anywhere But Here.
_
And though this girl,
All rebellious selfies and hating on me,
I despise and wish will never rise
To inspire those younger, not with her now-mind,
I hope she makes it.
I hope the rain washes away this agony
And there will be a tomorrow
That will be a new day.
I hope she finds this mystical place away
From all that is unsafe.
_
for Katy; the girl I hate, but the girl who pains.
YOU ARE READING
the Angry Girl
Poetrysome things are better off unsaid but they were tossed in my head so i decided to scream. Original content. Lowercase intended throughout the book. Previously titled "Tossed Thoughts". Highest Rank: 4 in Poem, Poetry
