The Poor, Depressed, Misunderstood Teenage Girl.

A Poem by Abigail

This is my free verse poem. (This poem is not about how I feel. It is about how I used to feel before I got help.)

Here I am alone.
No one is here to

catch me when I fall.
No one is here to
dry my tears.
No one is here to
see my scars.

Some strangers stare
and I glare back at them.
I do not want them to see
my pain or my
sorrow.

I advert their
judgmental stares.
I ignore their
snickers behind me.
It hurts to know
how people talk about me.

People do not know the real me.
They never will.
By the time they find out
how much their words hurt.
It will be too late.

By the time anyone notices
it will be too late.
The cool blade will slice through
my wrist with an ease.
my pain will end.

The pills will
make things feel numb.
That is what I need.
I need to feel numb,
I do not want to feel alone.

The bullet will be
quick and messy.
The mess will be left for
my biggest fans.
They will have a fun time cleaning.

The rope may be
slow and painful,
exactly what I want
my fans to see,
how painful my life was.

I want my fans to see
how much they hurt the life
of someone who was innocent.
I want them to know
how they pushed me into the abyss.

I want everyone to see
how they ruined my life.
I want my family to see
how much they really
hurt me.

Everyone needs to know
they were my inner
demons that played
with my heart and
picked away at my stability.

So goodbye to
my family,
my fans,
and everyone
who just did not
care about the poor
depressed, misunderstood
teenage girl.