segunda-feira, 27 de março de 2023



My world is starting to die.
and I slowly start to cry.
People talking smack,
right behind my back.

The childish games they play
need to end this very day.
I don't think they realize,
the tears coming out my eyes.

I hate how they get to me,
and how they don't see
that my heart is bleeding,
and that my tears have meaning.

They mean I am hurt,
and I want them to stop talking dirt.
They mean that I can't take it,
and that there's stuff they just don't get.

There's more to me than they know.
I just don't let it show.
I hide the things inside.
But I wish I could speak my mind.

I wish they knew the real me.
Then they could leave me be.
I'm just so scared of rejection
that I can't even stand my own reflection.

People just don't understand,
I want to show who I really am.
There are so many things I need to say,
but even if I could, they won't give me the time of day

If only I could say it all.
Then I wouldn't easily fall.
They just don't comprehend.
That I could be a great friend.

I hate how they view me,
as small and weak.
Inside me I am learning to be tough,
I am able to fight through the rough.

I just wish that was who I could be,

on the outside that is, I mean.
My world would be so much easier,
if I could be a little happier.

Like I had said,
their childish games need to end.
and they need to realize
that there is truth beyond these eyes.

Tabitha Houghton-Smith 

Published by Family Friend Poems March 2010 with permission of the author.

Poem chosen and read by: Afonso Luís, 8.º A, n.º 1.

You gave us a poem, I (Biblioteclando) give you a picture.

«On the Boulevard» (1911), Kasimir Malevitch (1878-1935).

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