Everywhere I turn there are hundreds

            Of dazzling smiles

So, so many are surrounding me

            In a radius of miles

But not me, no. I do not smile

            Because I am no one

I do not exist among these people

            Who bathe in the sun

These people with perfect

            Skin, hair, and nails

No, I am nothing, nothing special at all

            Only a face with tear trails

What’s this? What is this I hear?

            Oh yes, I remember now.

I am a prisoner, locked in this room

            Always in a constant bow

I am just a restrained little girl

            In a room without sun

A face with no smile

            But a hand with a gun.


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 for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741