She hits me.
She insults me.
Yes, I smartmouth, but it is but a cry for attention.
I want to feel love.
I want to feel what a family is really like.
Every day, there is someone complainng about me.
"She gets to do this, she gets to do that"
I am not as free as I am thought to be.
Chained by my own thoughts, I lie still.
Like a butterfly to-be in a cocoon, althought I doubt
That is what I'll become.
Shedding no tears
Shooting icy glares
But it can only be so thick that I feel this way.
Inside, I am but a wandering spirit
Questioning things that have never been asked
Badmouthed only for my ingenuity
Though I do not cry visible tears, they are still there
Invisible, waiting to be seen
These feelings and thoughts I can tell no one
For no one understands.
