I want. . but

I want to write without a poem,

but prose is to hard to write my feelings in.

My thoughts usually don't come in complete sentences,

and when they do, they hurt.

I want somebody to listen

but I'm tired of looking for somebody.

I want somebody to help me through

but I don't want to be a burden.

I want to be confident

but they only told me what is wrong with me

I want to be told I'm pretty,

but they only remembered that I was the smart one.

I want to live life to the fullest

but I'm to tired to move from my room

I want to love

but I'm afraid I've been broken one to many times.

I want to escape in a book

but I don't want to have to draw away from it

I want to write a story,

but I'm scared other people won't like it.

I want to listen to music,

but mom says I listen all the time and I need to take a break.

I want to wear what I want

but these insecurities weigh me down.

I want to be helpful and nice

but that could get me killed.

I want parents to show up to concerts on time

but they're always just a little to busy

I want a quiet home

but there's always a little to much stress and we're all drowning

I want to be more than the smart one in class

but that's all I ever am

I want to be more than just the cute friend

but once your labeled it's hard to rip the sticker off.

I want to be than just the funny friend

but I can't help but make jokes.

I want to know what people actually think about me

but they always pretend, even when I beg for the truth.

I want to be more than the writer

but I'm no good at getting people to listen when I speak

I want to be the younger sibling that I was born to be

but I know more than my older siblings and they look up to me.

I want to be MORE than just the silly aunt that is awkward

but I don't know how

I want to be the person that they want to hang around

but I'm to loud.

I want to tell people what I'm feeling,

but then I feel like I'm just trying to play victim somehow, even when I'm truly hurt.

I want to show you my cuts,

but I'm scared you'll poison my blood.

I want to be the person they choose first,

but I'm left alone until something happens.

I want to be told things,

but somehow I'm always seven steps behind.

I want to tell stuff outright,

but I've only been good at answering questions fast

I want to be able to read minds, make life easier

but I'm only good at reading books and straight A report cards.

I want to get out of here and be older

but I don't want to miss out on high school year

I want to pretend I'm older, I'm mature,

but I'm still just a kid behind a screen.

I want to be known for more than I am now

but people will always come to see me as the one way I always am.

I want to go back to how things were

but mom says it's for the best not to.

I want my parents to listen

but they're always right, even when they don't know.

I want to have SOMETHING to hold onto forever, a comfort

but nothing lasts forever.

I want and I wish. But in the end I'm just the barely teenager who doesn't know about the real world. Who can't make decisions for herself. Just the dumb teenager who barely understands her feelings and won't share them because she doesn't want to overshare and be a burden. The teenager who's told to tell how she feels and what she thinks, when in the end they're used as a weapon against her. And if mom doesn't agree with it she'll just scream until you give up. After blowing birthday candles and dandelions, eleven-eleven on the clock. You realize they were just that. Just candles and fire, just flower seeds, just a time. And your still the teenager who tried to get a job at fourteen, who won't share for fear of being yelled at, who won't scream because she doesn't want to be to loud. Just a vessel full of words she wishes she could speak as it rises like a storm inside. But it only gets let out on journals that burn in fireplaces so nobody can read them. Released in stories and poems that you hope nobody and somebody would read at the same time. In the very end, you are just the teenager who hopes adult hood is better, who wishes she could go back and say no. Who wonders why she wanted to grow up so fast. In the end, your just the teenager behind the screen trying to pretend your alright. A smile fastened on so perfect, so pasted. Your just a teenager who had to learn about the world to fast, who had the responsibilities of an adult, but you don't know enough about the real world. Just a middle schooler who's looking forward to freshman year next year like that will change something. Who wants to be let out of the house and go to public school again. Somebody who wants to go back out and find something that she will probably never find. For every shooting star, coin in the fountain, wish bone and sky lantern. You realize that's what they are. A dying star, wasted money, a dead animal, and a light faded with time and space. Sold off like they were worth something. In the end, your just a teenager.