I can see why I'm lonely now, I'm dealing with everything in a negative way, that I feel like no one can hear me out. Who can I talk to when I'm trapped inside this monsoon. People seem impossible to relate to, I guess because I'm not normal. I never fit in with no crowd, I've always been an outcast. I have to much baggage to hold that I eventually lose my grip and destroy the people I love. I can't stand it, I hate to be this way, but this is how I've been planted. It comes down to days when I hate my reflection. It smiles back at me saying "no one is listening, you're all alone. No one gives a damn about how you're feeling, just be a man. Quit crying like a bitch before I really give you something to cry for. You'll never be rich, you'll never know what it's like to be famous. You're nothing like you've always been, so keep dreaming." People tell me to stay positive when I get inside my head, I honestly wish I could, then I wouldn't have to do this. In truth, this is my bestfreind, this is all I have since I have no friends. It's not that I can't make friends, I just have trust issues with a lot of people. Plus no one really wants to hang out with someone like me, people already think I'm evil. So I don't waste my time trying to deal with people. I stay alone in my cave and write all day. Studying other poets and authors until I lose myself in creativity. I play mind games with my imagination so badly that I go insane sometimes. Does that make me crazy? It may seem to be in your point of view. But most of you don't see the struggles that I'm going through. The only way I can communicate is through writing. When I try to talk to someone, they tell me I'm to young to feel this way, or your just overexaggerating. How do you think that makes me feel when I have to talk to myself just to heal. It makes me feel sick to my stomach to see how ignorant the world can be sometimes. Who am I to talk though, I'm just a monster in your eyes. You don't see an angel trying to earn his wings and halo. Most of you just close your minds in disbelief thinking this is not my only way for survival. When most of you don't know that the only thing that keeps me alive is being honest in this cycle.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


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