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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