A poem by: Axton N. O. Mitchell
What can I do to get out of this
nightmare called life?
I don’t want to be here.
I am not having fun.
I am just so fucking done.
I’m as close to the edge as I have ever been.
I’m so fucking lonely
I have no one
I can even trust to say anything to but
I always knew I’d be alone
And
I’m sick of being treated
Like I’m not wanted everywhere
I go along because so is life
then
Get questioned about
why I’m trying to sneak and
take my leave.
Don’t worry I hate me I get it.
We agree there it would just be
real nice to have a few more people who support people like me.
I wish my mother was still alive.
She never made me feel
unwelcomed
unaccepted
or unloved.
I’m clearly too much for all of you
but
my mom was always too much
for all of you, too.
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