[ruthhardy]

Here's a poem I wrote... it's pretty bad but I thought I'd post it anyway...

The cuts on my wrist
Are a testimony to the pain inside
(A very modern trend)
My parents
Don't understand
-Or care-
I am not my brother

One day
In the future that will not acknowledge
My presence
Will life be better?
Or a monotonous
Semi- conscious
Arid plane of pain

Despair!
The folly of every human heart
Grips on to me
Vice like
Trying to drag me down
Beneath the swamp of death
Why resist?

And yet
Human instinct
Will not let me go
It is not my time
So I still resist
The relentles pull
Of death

Back to my life
And the pain of insignificance
Acknowledging my parents
Using music as a weapon
To fill the uncomfortable
Inevitable slences.
How very British.