Madison Balmont Poet I do not know?

No Sound

I hate it when she comes my way.
I hate it when she speaks to me.
I hate how it sounds.
I hate is when she talks at all.
I hate to see her smile when I don't feel a thing.
If I'm feeling happy, she always ruins the mood.
I hate to hear her silence, when I want to hear her voice.
And when I need an answer, it further fuels my hate for her.
I hate it when I need to talk, and there's no one there at all.
But I hate it when I need some space, and she smothers all the room.
I hate to see her cry, and seeking some attention.
I won't comfort her. When she speaks, it makes me mad.
I hate it when she looks at me.
I hate it when she's there.
I hate this awful life.
I don't feel anything. I don't feel it.
I hate it all, any time at all.
I hate it.

Some times I don't know what to feel.
So I don't.
I listen.
I can hear.
My mind has gone blind.
I can't see. My mouth is deaf. I don't feel.


~Written in 2003 (Tuesday, 18th, March) when I was fourteen.

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