I was going to originally give this poem yet another blank title, until I ran across some very amusing theories from a friend… She said "A poem is like a child, one that has no name has no place, nor a creator. Give EVERY one of your poems a name, because you are their creator". To explain the content of the poem, I will start out by saying I am a very lost, weak, and confused 16 year-old high school student. My words are expressed through many of my poems. Most will understand my struggles, some will not.

Sitting quietly in the corner of my room

Watching me write this, sits a child

She has no name, no voice… she’s nobody

Lost with in myself I lie back down

These ideas are nightmeres, it’s so scary

Pointing out the broken home I live in,

My skin chills as she sits beside me

and closes her eyes

Those baby blues hide as she sings for

The kids who don’t have a thing

Opening slowly, a tear falls

Along with my heart, along with my will

Along with my family, my mind… Broken.

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