The Color Pink

Fri, 07/17/2015 - 04:51 -- Ava R

Do you ever just want to kill yourself? 

I do a lot actually
Do you ever just want to post about killing yourself?
I do a lot actually
you can blame me 
call me an attention whore because its true
but I never really learned how to speak well so,
I write
I type actually 
my thoughts always seem more fluent when I type
so does that that make a writer or a typer? and which one is less acknowledged, cause that's where I fit in,
and since I'm a teenager, is my metaphor of my escape from myself going to be accused of plagiarism because "thats all kids do now days,"
here let me annotate it for you, because 
thats all I've been taught to do in this public place you call an education system 
 
I see a kid, no a child that never grew up, parallelism.
 
when you say child opposed to kid now days they have two different meanings, I'm picking up some metaphor here...
 
a kid implies that at one point they were happy... fearless... daring
a child however brings along immaturity and frailness 
but what's so wrong with that?
Some rhetorical question DAMN SOME GOOD SHIT.
 
when did we demolish the opportunity for a kid ,oh, a child to be immature 
isn't that the whole point of childhood?
that "you have yet to mature" 
I guess i'll highlight this, sounds nice, relatable…
 
and were back to square one. 
my thoughts are jumbled
I started reading out loud
I tend to stutter, but, ya, 
I started thinking about my method of release and trying to organize it rather than using it for its purpose, some say I have OCD, I'm glad those letters are alphabetized i'm just trying to help.. or please.. I never learned the difference, I just type.
 
wait I'm trying to release...
release what?
my daily routine goes as planned
wake up, self loathe, take mothers bullshit, DONT FORGET PLEASE EVERYONE ELSE, sleep, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, self loathe, sleep, get yelled at for sleeping, self loathe, loose count of the word worthless, YOUR FORGOT ABOUT PLEASING, YOU LEFT SOMEONE OUT, YOU WRECKED THE ORDER, START OVER AGAIN, and just like that in the middle of a though, sleep
but not the good kind of sleep, where you're calm and white, the sleep that you were forced into, forced by yourself, by the fast heartbeat, the instant sweat, the anxious thoughts, the anxious people, the anxious you.... that type of sleep, thats red, most people see this as black sleep but not me, black sleep, complete unknown, seems much more comforting than red, not to be confused with pink, pink sleep, which I've never felt before but damn does it sound great.... pink sleep is the type of sleep that makes you want to light a cigarette at the bar and drink your problems away, but Atleast that way you're never alone, at the bottom of the bottle most people are promised purpose, but I find more comfort in the smoke, its lingers, just like pink sleep,
but i've never had that before…
 
so do you ever just want to kill yourself 
 
"RED!"
 
 I do a lot actually
 
"WHITE!"
 
I never really learned how to speak
 
"BLACK!"
 
Little did I know that was the only way to reach pink... 
 
I guess i'll just type in gray
after all I'm just a child 
wishing for pink sleep
in a world of "white" kids
 
 
  
This poem is about: 
Our world

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