Dull Roar

I'm so mad I can hardly write poetry anymore, 

every word rushes out and tumbles down, 

knocking the inside of my skull, 

a dull roar that follows me to school and home again. 

I want to write about the world, 

and how everything feels as if it's going downhill. 

You know what they used to say? 

That the world would end in 2000;  

I think it's going to end in 2026. 

I'm a hopeful person who looks for the best in people, 

but I only see red now;  

it's like the annoying sunglasses your parents always make you wear. 

I try to not cry at night after scrolling TikTok.  

I try to watch the happy puppies, but how can I pretend everything is fine?  

I keep seeing little girls forced to give birth,   

and old men telling me my body is not my own, 

and I can't believe I'm the one to blame, 

when I don't even have much of a say at all.