ninestars

i used to dream

of the day

i started middle school,

thinking the excitement

of getting older

outweighed the pain

of growing up.

my teachers wondered why.

and now that i'm in

I sob for

something I think I

hate, but cry "no no no"

when asked if I

want to quit.

Because I just can't.

There is no

possible way

that I could quit.

Lie awake tired, won’t go to sleep, regret it in the morning,

repeat. 

I try to break the cycle, 

but then something stops me.

Oh wait, it was just myself, again,

like always,

but I'm stuck and

Pages hold the ink

of my pen, tears of my eyes,

power of my words.

Conflict causes crazy

crisis, confuses me

until I'm numb.

Don't know what

I desire, asking the

question, "who am I, really?"

because I really want to know.

People's perceptions poke