Does anyone see it happening? I'm sure they don't. At lease they don't when it comes to me. I go to school and cry. I come home and cry where no one can see my weakness flowing down my face. At night I lay awake thinking what I do to deserve these vocal bashings. Thinking what I can do to rid some of the disappointment I see everyday in my parents' eyes. Sometimes I can't bare that look anymore. I can't bare the thought that I am just a mess up in their eyes. All I have ever wanted was to make them proud. But I can't. Maybe id I leave. Maybe if I don't come home. Would they bring me back just to tell me I have disappointed them once again? Every night I look at my eraser. Wondering if I could erase enough of myself by morning to make them proud. Dragging the cold rubber across my skin. The faster I go the warmer it gets. Taking me away one layer at a time.
Maybe if I push harder. Maybe I should move faster. Maybe I can get all the mess up out of me. Watching it flow down my arms and legs in scarlet rivers. I smile as I feel the earth leave me. I can feel the puddle growing under me. At a distance I hear a door unlatch. I try to see their disappointed faces. And all I can say is...
'I tried.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is beautifully written. So full of feeling. I pray this is not your life. No child should ever be made to feel as if they're a disappointment to their parents. Shame on them! Keep writing.