What am I doing here?
I don't belong. Not like the girl in the corner.
She acts like three or four years old.
She's disruptive. I can't even think around her.
So I drink and smoke weed.
So I ran away a couple of times,
and tried to slit my wrists.
Does that make me crazy?
I'm just doing what my parents do.
What about them? It's always me, me, me.
I'm the problem child,
I'm aggressive & angry & depressed & suicidal.
They always blame me.
They're so stupid.
They don't see that it's them.
No responsibility; they're always high or drunk.
Then they get mad when I do it,
And push me around like a little doll.
I hate them.
I wish I could take a gun and blow them away.
I wish they loved me.
I'll never treat my kids like that.
I'm gonna be a good parent.
I only do a little weed to calm me down.
I'll never hit them; I'll be good to them.
I'm not like my Dad.
Or am I?
Written October 22, 1998
By Bonnie J. (Askey) Weathers