Untitled Poem by Ellis Slater

I wish I could get some kind of relief
But that would mean trouble
For me and loved ones, who's teeth
Often burst my feelings like bubbles

One more call from worried friends or teachers
Could mean trust or my "privileges" taken away, gone.
I am having a panic attack under the school bleachers
And my everything is weaker than a new-born fawn.

I know, I am an entitled, rich, white kid
But I am told it doesn't make my suffering any less
For now, Ill bottle and store my thoughts with a lid
And ignore your angry rant, saying Im selfish and thoughtless

You beg and plead for me to ask for help or advise
But then again, I will have deal with this by myself soon
If I do reach out, you're "disappointed" I went to friends once or twice
You want me to depend on only you, midnight to noon

Somedays, it feels like I can only complain and whine
I am like a million others out there, so why even try
All of us tell our families and ourselves that we're fine
I want to treat my heart like a towel, wring it and hang to dry

You see, I am nothing but a drop in an ocean
An ocean of tears shed by the hopeless
Always drowning on my overwhelming emotions
Emotions that managed to silence my fearlessness

I want to write a happy poem, but it gets all twisted
Starting off with sweet, but the past makes it bitter
Politely declined that train of thought, but it persisted
Turning my opinion in something less than litter

Everything I think for goes into these simple lines
Lines of my life that add up to mean nothing
I am procrastinating dealing with all my showing signs
Signs that I need help, despite not asking for a single thing

Insomnia shouts at me, then begs my eyelids for alertness
To pass the time, I think of the future hopefully
The future is a dangerous thing for someone without boldness
Is my future bright when I can't remember all of life beautifully

I cannot stop worrying and I cannot say why.
You won't know if it is from me not knowing or not voicing my dilemma.
Please believe me when I say I try and try!
I guess this poem could be considered my life's lemma.

If only someone could actually see and help me
Instead of putting me on a podium, a prize for a selfless act.
When it is me that has been the one acting carefree!
Now everyone can see who I am with my mask cracked.

For some, things like this are easy and effortless.
It seems every interest I have ends up unfinished or poor.
I wish I could attempt one with skillfulness.
I'll just sit here not letting anyone in, blocking my door.

Now, I'll let you go, but with a quarry.
One that I hope will never leave your mind.
If someone is opening up about their sob story,
Would you help them, or leave them behind?