Poem: Little Did You Know

​What about me? 

What about my hurts, my woes, my deep seeded fears? 

Don’t they matter too? 

I scream, from the inside out. 

Can’t you see that the fear in my eyes isn’t rebellion, it’s all a telling disguise.

My cries for help are obvious, but no one hears me scream. 

They’re oblivious. 

When I speak; I’m hushed.

When I cry; I’m told to stop.

It’s like any form of emotion is outlawed, unless it’s you who shows them.

If you cry, or scream, yell or curse, it’s warranted.

If we did it, it was bullshit. 

How dare you, you’d say, most kids dreamed of my life. Dreamed of the bed I slept in or the food I got to eat, no one liked a spoiled rotten bitch like me. 

I should feel like shit, she’d say, complaining about injustice.

I should let them verbally abuse, misuse, and harm my soul.

For what? 

A roof, some food, a sanctuary where I fear to breathe? 

I can’t even open a book to read, without being ungrateful. 

How dare I want I better life, or a life that’s in a dream.

I should be more grateful than I seem.

I shouldn’t fear my parents, but I do.

I shouldn’t hold on; but I do.

I should move on; I know.

But how?

Because little did you know, I was just wanting a home. 

Not this.