7teen

I'm seventeen and nothing seems right, In recovery, but not mentally, It's these voices that get my attention, Do I respond or push them away, What if they keep getting louder, I tried shutting the door between us, But they have the key, How do I sleep? Midnight turns into my afternoons, Listening to the rain, It reminds me of all the late night tears, Nights where I wish there were other repairs, But they say I can't be fixed, Did I leave the drugs or did they leave me? At this point in my life I am supposed to be enjoying it, But how can I when I have no one to turn to, The walls are the only thing that doesn't judge, But their doors still shut. They ask why I can't be a normal kid, But it's hard when I'm doing the only thing I know, I write poetry hoping someone hears my cry, Because no one else will reply, This poem is more for me than it is for you, It's like I'm stuck in a bad dream, I'm not welcome in my home, I'm the ghost that kids dress up to be, But not just for Halloween, All of my pain and their excuses, How do I undo it?