How She Wrote Her Story

Many of us write our story,
Taking pens or such to do so,
Hoping life will just get better,
With every word we place on paper,
But we know inside that it won’t matter,
If paper is the way we show.
.
No one ever stops to wonder,
About the kids who write it under,
The long sleeved hoodies that they wear,
Claiming that they’ll never care,
But deep down inside they really do,
They’re just hoping you will too.
.
She wrote her story on her arm,
Like many other kids like her,
Claiming themselves the right to harm,
Instead of letting others harm them first,
It’s the children, misunderstood,
That bless the words you’ve cursed.
.
I know you think they’re always lying,
Because they just want your attention,
But I’m promising you it’s more than that,
You’ve just got to look closer in their eyes,
And let them know it’s safe to speak,
Without the delusion of your hate.
.
He wrote his story on his leg,
Up his side and down his arm,
Leaving not a word unwritten,
Hoping to express himself inside,
To expose every time you’ve lied,
He wrote his story with his harm.
.
It’s a little task to notice them,
Their tear stained eyes and tattered sleeves,
Always hiding their stories underneath,
So no one knows they’re dying,
It would be a pity to be seen crying,
Because their dignity just leaves.
.
I wrote my story on my skin,
Where all could see my past remarks,
Why I remarked myself each time,
I felt the anger building deep inside,
My emotions and my feelings hide,
As I commit yet another crime.
.
Have you yet to notice who we are?
The children you once knew to love,
For their honesty and open hearts,
Now crawling by without a hope,
Picking up our broken parts,
But only when you aren’t looking.
.
We wrote our stories on ourselves,
Pencils, knives, razors and pins,
On our arms, sides, legs and…
But our stories are not read,
We just keep on burying our sins,
Waiting for you to hear what we have said.
.
Many of us write our story,
Taking pens or blades to do so,
Craving life to just get better,
With every word we place in pain,
Knowing that we may never matter,
When we let no one know.
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About Robin Elizabeth

My name is Robin Elizabeth and I'm 21. I do not create with my own ability, but with the gift God has given me.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to How She Wrote Her Story

  1. Rätsel Ewig says:

    “I wrote my story on my skin,
    Where all could see my past remarks,
    Why I remarked myself each time,
    I felt the anger building deep inside,
    My emotions and my feelings hide,
    As I commit yet another crime.”

    I said before and I’ll say it again: your writing style pleases me!

  2. Kavita says:

    Your writing is really very compelling! I was drawn, and then was glued!
    The pain and feeling show through.. brilliant!
    “It’s the children, misunderstood,
    That bless the words you’ve cursed.” — how meaningful these lines are… albeit sad..

  3. Raven says:

    “Picking up our broken parts,
    But only when you aren’t looking.”

    Been there…couldn’t have said it better myself. Very well written.

  4. alienhippy says:

    Hello friend,
    This poem speaks to me of a child of God unseen in a world of sin and un-acceptance.
    My heart breaks as I remember also being a child of God unseen.
    I remember and now use the emotions to build what is new.
    Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble, take heart I have overcome the world.”
    Love, peace and blessings to you.
    Loved childofagodunseen. xxx

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