Rage builds inside me like boiling water spilling from a pot. I silently scream and shout and do things hoping I won't get caught. It kills me and eats away from my happiness. It spreads like an infection and soon everyone is careless.
Consequences are a myth, and so is happiness and crime. It can feel sweet sweet but then sour like a lime. Nasty words exchanged, adrenaline kicking in, it's never my fault i'm this way and it's never been. It's not fair to me, and not fair to them. But until it's fixed i'll just pretend .
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Poetry By A 6th Grader
PoetryPoetry written by a 6th grader that I know. She wants to share her poems with the world, and hopes other people enjoy or relate to them.
