Clueless

Pen. Paper. 
Love. Hate. 
No one knows. 
They give and take. 
My corrupted mind.
Twisted between there hands. 
It's there fault 
I have become a person they can't stand. 
They want me to die. 
And so do i. 
I am no longer alive. 
They've murdered the real me inside. 
And they don't know
That i'm already dead. 
They wish for me to allow them
To get inside my head. 
But they can't. 
And if they only knew 
All the things i would do. 
Those people don't have a freakin' clue.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace