If This Is Life..



If this is living,

I'm not sure if I want to live.

 If only I could move.. just get away,

but I can only go where I am taken to.

No one seems to like me and they seem to think

i'm where trash and used gum should be.

I'm always being pushed around,

sat on and sometimes tossed.

I smell weird odors everyday,

and hearing words some should not say.

Someone even used me as their personal drawing board for a tattoo,

highly uncomfortable but what could I do?.. I can't move.

No one seems to care about what this does to me,

I'm practically garbage  compared to the way that I use to be.

But If this is truely life,

is a run-down school desk what i'm destined to be?

..Now I understand the young girl they call depressed,

she's just like me...





Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741