deepundergroundpoetry.com

What Goes Around. . .

"What goes around--" they say, very often and at one point or another.
Eventually, "--comes around."
Now, I just want to say that I am troubled.
In my mind.
If you do not know it, then you haven't given me enough time.
To prove to you, to show to you.
How broken and disturbed I can truely be.
I was abused.
I was broken.
I was used.
I was molested.
I was hurt.
And my life was screwed.
I dropped out of school twice because of bullying, from friends and strangers alike.
I have lost friends.
Gotten my heart broken.
And still stood my ground.
Got pregnant, and suffered through being labelled as a "another pregnant girl on the system" another "pregnant teen."
But I am not a pregnant teen, I am a mother whether that is what you choose to see.
I lost my father during my pregnancy and he never got to see my son.
I was harressed by doctors and nurses alike before my baby was born and later that same night.
My pregnany itself was no walk in the park either.
I was living in a hotel, a homeless girl from a broken home.
I went insane over a girl that fed me nothing but lies and more lies.
Breaking my heart and making me lose my mind.
I fell in love with someone else.
The father of my pride and joy.
And he gave everything for me to get better.
But my problems became a problem and I had to force myself to swallow my pain & get better.
My problems were interrupting my love's life, his schooling especially, apparently all the time.
He �skipped school with me before I had to quit.
He stayed up all night with me when I had nightmares.
He stopped doing homework because he was worred about me constantly, worried �I would hurt myself, worried I would cut.
But my problems though never became too much for him.
Became to much for his family.
Because of my neediness I was called a "brat".
And when I needed help, I was told to "Get over it".
But now it seems that tables have been turn on those who were cruel to me.
Gave me panic attacks over a family vacation rather then a pregnant girl's sanity.
But now the tables, they have been turned.
Karma has come back with vengence.
And a taste of their own medicine has been dished.
They talked the talk now they must walk the walk.
Because now their daughter who was rude to me, pointed out my insecurities.
And was spoiled through the skin and down into her core.
Now she's the one cutting.
And failing at school.
Depending on other people for help.
But now it's okay, it's okay, it's okay.
Because it's their daughter and it's okay.
But when it was me, it was nothing.
It was nothing at all.
Just "get over it" they told me "so Andrew doesn't fail school."
So tell me, oh tell me-- How does it feel?
To be given a taste of your own medicine?
To have a "troubled" daughter it would seem, when she's not posting pictures of her body and of her friend's weed.
I have self-respect and enough brain cells to not get into that, yes correct I am "straight-edge" and fucking proud of it.
But a girl that claims to be an "individual" is another sheep following the herd.
Unable to think for herself.
Get high cause it's cool.
Cut because it's what people that want attention do.
Do you want to see some real cuts?
Let me show you my scars?
"Whore" is branded into my leg.
Do you want to know why?
Would you like to know how it feels?
To be called a cheater when you are only being used?
I had cuts going up my arms and some that will never go away.
Been to the emergency room so many times, surprised we don't all know each other by our first names.
Have you ever seen the inside of a psyche ward?
It scary when the girl in the room next to you STILL hasn't seen her parents, even though they promised to visit her.
Those days when I could not see my son.
Those days that I still can't remember.
I am Edgar A. Poe and those are my missing days.
Now I am trying to get better.
Trying to see the good side of people that hurt me, I know there is goodness in everyone I just have to look deep inside.
But here I am, yet again-- writing, writing, my mad raving of a man woman about madness again.
When will the torture never end?
I do not want any more wars, can you not see the white flag?
I have given up, laid down my arms and given up the fight.
But it seems there has to be something THERE that just doesn't rub me right.
After sending me to the hospital with ignorant words and cruel assumptions.
This girl that has hurt me, and shoved in my face that she can have whatever she wants because otherwise her parents will feel bad.
This girl has not respect for her parents, her friends or herself.
She takes disgusting, low-class pictures of herself practically naked and claims her breasts are too small.
But then quickly following her teenager girl centerfold piece, she follows it up with how sad and miserable and depressed she truely is.
How no one understand her, and how no one care.
I believe I was there when she first started cutting and said that I would always be here.
She got involved in arguements that she was never apart of.
I was never mad at her.
But now I am, you hate yourself but you want the world to see your body?
I am NOT even your friend on this social networking site, and I can STILL see it it.
Do you know what that means?
Other people can see it?
Strangers can see?
Some fifty year old man is jacking off to it as we speak.
Don't you get it, you're being ignorant.
You're being stupid.
I want to be your friend.
If you have actual problems, you can get help.
I can help you if you want.
But stop doing these things if you are really broken in the mind, why?
Tell us why, we are dying to know?
Because otherwise no one is going to care.
Whether you got your clothes on or not.
No will care about you cuts when they want to see your chest.
People will walk all over your feelings because you're a easy slut.
That's what it looks like, it looks really bad.
You can't hate your body and show it off at the same time.
So what is your problem, putting the pictures aside?
I'm listening. . . Please, tell us.
What are your problems, why are you so depressed?
I'll be a therapist: "Come tell us what's wrong?"
So broken, so sad, so lonely, so mad?
Tell me, tell me, tell me, what is it?
Because as soon as you give me an answer I'm going to tell what I was told.
To "Get over it", because this story is getting seriously old.

"What goes around--" they say, very often and at one point or another.
Eventually, "--comes around."